Not a spinning toy on a string that some people can use to perform attention grabbing tricks. I taught with a collegue who married a man with two boys and they added two more to the family. At the end of some days, she would announce, “It’s a YOYO night.” This was translated as whatever you can find in the back of the fridge or in the pantry or in a cabinet is your supper. Have at it! Even with this as an option, four strapping men are now doing good in the world. In spite of the fact that exceptions to a rule can always be produced, my pediatrician brother-law-law said of picky eaters, “No child ever starved to death in the sight of food.”

The choices to define your eating habits vary country to country and person to person without chasing the rabbit of a true diagnosed health problem. A Mediterranean Diet can be yours even if you live in Kansas. A government plan from USDA offers daily specifics. I almost lost a proposal from the man who became my husband for 56 years because in courting days I cooked him a broiled flounder, a treat in South Louisiana and unheard of in El Paso, Texas. Most of us build our own habits: a mixture of on hand, can assuage a rumble in the tummy, the addition of a comfort food, and maybe the possibility of something sweet at the end.

At times, not getting to make a choice is the problem. God provided manna every day after the Israelites complained about starving, yet they became specific. We want meat, fish, cucumbers, melons, and different kinds of onions. OK, so they got quail, protein to round out the diet. I am reminded of the child who accused me of not cutting the peanut butter sandwich the correct way. Research says if you can have water it is 30 – 40 days before you die of no food. Being fed is a very real need and around the world that is not happening for victims of a flood, or drought, or war or economic poverty. That’s why in the middle of a prayer with instructions to praise and honor God and ask His protection is that very personal statement.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Matthew 6:11

I am a designer, maybe not like you Some look at a room and rearrange furniture. If I put a chair next to the door it stays there until I move to another location forty-two years later. However, sit me at a table with pieces of colored paper and a stack of pictures or words gathered from various sources, and creative juices begin to bubble. Newness of output is aided by some type of glue. In earliest childhood days, that glue was make your own with equal portions of flour and water stirred together and applied to Biblical based offerings from a weekly Sunday School booklet. At some point I moved on to Elmer’s clear glue. I had to remember to wipe off my fingers and clean the nose of the nozzle or reuse required opening the flow again by wiggling a pin in around the white stopper. At some point glue sticks became an option. While the purpose of attachment was accomplished, the problem existed to confine the glue to the back of the offering without running off the edge and leaving smears on the table or by pushing too strongly and tearing the paper. A glue gun gave the impression that the task would reach the ultimate attainment of professional presentations, except it also required that an electric plug be near at hand, extra sticks to melt always be close by. and a careless finger didn’t touch a hot funnel.

After years of creating Smithmark birthday cards, place mats, posters for a classroom, or noble quotes to go in a journal, I have settled on three rules of progression that are needed. First, glue to the edges. If this step is ignored, at some point in the future, those edges will start to curl and even fold back destroying any beauty intended. Second, press down and wipe up the extra.That little shine outside the edge can glue the intended object to an unintended object pulling part A away from part B leaving an unsightly unintended tear. Thirdly, view with satisfaction and then wait for it to dry. You don’t want to create a stack of one that was intended to be five unique offerings

Stick to it can retain focus beyond carrying out a decorative idea. One calls up hang on, stand firm, be determined, preserver,and don’t give up to finalize any path from conception to completion. These phrase have carried me through the demands of financial papers and the struggle of putting three children to bed at the end of a day. A slight variation of the rules still matter: organize all the pieces, be sure each step fits the process, and keep moving toward the goal. Maybe you are encouraged by “He that endureth to the end shall be saved.” Personally, I put on a smile and chant the words of the Message.

Day and night I‘ll stick with God; I’ve got a good thing going and I’m not letting go.

Psalm 16:8

A tend-to-errand gave me this week’s rumination which is the only word that will really give life to the happening. However, the title had to work its way out, so listen to two stories and one more in the last paragraph. The money earner in your household may require certain training and respect as did my brother-in-law’s being a pediatrician. However, his household ran smoothly because of his wife’s list of ‘little men.” (no gender offense) The yard man, of course, and the name she called for stopped up toilets, and Henry with his hammer and saw when a stair rail needed mending. Story 2 involves the family of a nuclear scientist. They went on vacation and gave a teen-age son $50 to buy food. I don’t remember how he ate, but he brought a car repair manual twenty -five summers ago with the cash and has been gainfully employed and an on the spot helper in restarting vehicles that have stopped. If we can’t do what is needed, aren’t we glad someone else can.

I have the gift of understanding fabric and sewing. I learned on my mother’s 1930’s machine housed in a fold down cabinet. In 1954 I was given a Featherweight Singer which served all my needs for more than 25 years. Then I bought two steps up with a few more options. This required a specific level of care. I have used a shop out in an industrial neighborhood on the west side of town. Not only do household hobby sewers come, but shops and businesses bring a variety of machines for repair. This group worked their maintenance magic on my machine in mid-July, yet when I got back to a project, the auto threader wouldn’t work. Today was the first time someone could drive me down the freeway to the galvanized building where the business is housed. I explained to the Latino lady the problem and she went in the back to bring out a small Vietnamese employee. “He doesn’t speak English. Follow him.” We wound our way between tables with machines waiting their turn. Rows of shelves had one small box next to another, each labeled with a specific number or size of a part. At his work space, he had a row of various screwdrivers, a bit of smoothing paper, a bottle of oil and a focused light of a brightness to illuminate a rock star concert. Step 1, step 2, step 3. He closed the housing, raised and lowered the jammed lever easily and gave me a smile I translated as, “All fixed now.”

Back out front, the sales lady declined pay. I gave my silent helper a tip anyway. You know the third story. A machine won’t work. A older man appears with a ball pein hammer, raps smartly, and gears move again. The charge is expensive, not for the action, but for knowing exactly where to hit. I had sat at home for almost two months, recognizing the problem, yet having no idea how to solve it. The labor required was specific and its worth to me was beyond what I offered as recompense. Paul gave the world a basis for our foundation of theology and his pay for the work of his mind and heart was a secondary expertise: the tents he made to support his life.

The laborer is worth his hire. 1 Timothy 5:18

A group gathers. The talk centers around cardiovascular, immune system, and respiratory. That’s the doctors. Engineers spew magnitude, stress factor, and even cylinders. I am at ease with principles, aptitudes, and pedagogically. We are there in the know with career vocab. Lurking in the background to trip us during the years are those contemporary for the time words grouped as jargon. Two decades ago, an eighth grade boy with a twinklier his eye interrupted a class discussion to ask, “Do you like bling?” I had no idea, so I just raised a disapproving eyebrow and continued with indirect objects. He tried again as he left class and a girl had pity on me and clarified, “He means dangling earrings and a matching necklace” Ohhh.

My early morning wake up my brain moments are the Mini Crossword Puzzle and NYT Connections. Once in a while for the puzzle I have to look up a sports hero or a 1997 top record. These answers would be known by any teen or even their parents. Connections is more tricky. On a good day I manage three of the four groups and win a Perfect by default. Then it doesn’t matter that I don’t recognize the name of four horror films. I’ve just learned a new term in a sports group that came from cricket in the 1850’s – hat trick, three positive accomplishments in one game. This counts for my daughter’s offering of three helpful errands in one morning. Hat trick has true validity now because the three panels of MUTTS comics strip had squirrels making three Bonk acorn hits on the people below and the punch line is HAT TRICK.

Since the month is October, we need to tip a hat to a word that had one meaning and has grown into another. Ghost can be the white clothed nebulous creature who gives off ghostly moaning sounds. Ignoring a text or an e-mail on purpose is now known as ghosting. The action is recognized by the name and is almost on the expected behavior list. We have thoughts for our inner feelings and ideas. Body language can express intent or reaction. Words are that attribute of humans that tie us to each other from a first mama, to communicating a skill throw the switch now, to cementing a relationship your work is amazing. Build the reserve you need for the purpose required and use as the situation demands.

“Gentle words bring life and health; a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.”

Proverbs 15:4

“Kind words are like honey – sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.”

Proverbs 16:24

A friend was newly wed when a couple with a three year old stayed at their house. When they left, she declared, “My child will never act like that!” But when he came along he certainly did and as certainly learned how to be the well-behaved adult he is now. This is a life lesson. All times, small and large, demand that we move on. I took a class in the 1980’s to learn how to use a dial up internet and write a barely usable program in order to keep my spot as a teacher. Very few people now even know what I am talking about from those early days. I’m making progress, yet not sure how far ahead I will go or when I will join the crowd on the sidelines just watching.

The WSJ section named Journal Report is all articles on Artificial Intelligence and CHATPGT. Since the terms first came out, I have already moved with it. My initial reaction was groups of school children turning in pre-written essays like the 6th grader who said she hadn’t copied from the encyclopedia; she had rearranged the words. Steps have been taken to monitor writings and question sections that don’t sound like the original writer and go provide information to consider. My favorite article for now has a title Will AI Make Job Recruiting More Efficient -But Less Fair. I’m past looking for a job. If this is your road there are ten statements of pros and cons worth considering if using the program or to make you aware of a detour you might have to take. Options are out there to go with the flow without running a red light.

I’m still standing in line to buy a ticket for CHATGPT – an acronym with a long meaning. I do understand that it is most helpful when answering questions, of which there are always an abundance. Some options of how to do something seem to be updated Your-Tube offerings. The chance that I could improve my Spanish with a program that corrects my mistakes might be worth trying. Having moved from landline phones to the cell always in your pocket or purse to watches that can send and receive, I hope I’m not an “old fogey.” However, at the end of the day, nothing will replace that flesh and blood person who, without an app or password, calls or comes by and discusses all, beginning with questions and concerns and moving on to blessings and goes by the name FRIEND.

A sweet friendship refreshes the soul.

Psalm 27:9

I am a water baby and the Zodiac had nothing to do with it. The nature is by place and persuasion. My mother was afraid of water. “You can drown in a thimbleful!” My daddy was a fisherman. By the time I was five, she put a life jacket on me and send me forth to accompany. “Now, take care of your daddy.” My early locales were Tangipahoa River, Lake Ponchatrain, and Manchac. An uncle had a fishing camp on Cane River: a wooden cabin one room wide with a kitchen, a long bedroom, and a bathroom. Oh, yes, a screen porch that held tables for food, games, and chairs for rocking. The sleep sounds were snuffling nightlife punctuated by a sometimes splash of a leaping fish. Black River and Toledo Bend were added to my mental knowledge. The catch your breath river is always the Mississippi that flows from Lake Itasca, Minnesota, until it slows down enough to dump silt and create a delta of note at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. I earned a geography minor and cherish words like crevasse, levee, and jetty. Husband David vowed I would follow him anywhere just so it wasn’t more than 50 miles from the Gulf Coast.

So, is it any wonder that when a book appeared on a casual search ad that I ordered it? The Gulf, the History of An American Sea by Jack Davis. Chapters of information and research destroyed paragraphs of history that I thought covered the subject. An overview of the early exploration of the western coast of Florida which had already been occupied successfully for years required an extensive knowledge of estuaries, oyster beds, and mango groves. I had a reading and speaking acquaintance with Iberville and Bienville, but had no idea that LaSalle who stood at the mouth of the Mississippi and named a new territory Louisiana after the king of France would become so befuddled that he never found that exact spot again and tried to replace it with Matagorda Bay. More enlightenment about this sea awaits a journey to a western curve and down along a southern coast where the waters join again the Gulf Stream that New Englanders utilized to reach Europe.

Often, and truthfully, the underlying reason for a going forth is a desire for profit and wealth. Yet a most descriptive sentence in my current reading page begins this way. “If curiosity is the facilitator of exploring and charting the New World…” Curiosity to know more about your passion counts, and for true explorers, monetary success ceases to be the motivator. I learned that it takes commitment to sail into the danger of unknown waters. Humility is required to assimilate the knowledge of those who have gone before if their survival efforts were more effective than those you have tried. A journey becomes more successful when you have a good map. Three different cartography experts committed themselves to drawing inlets, bays, bayous, and sounding the notorious shallow water of the Gulf while looking constantly for natural harbors. This then is my inheritance. Knowing that a mighty river and its triibutaries water America from the Continental Divide to the Appalachian Trail, flowing downward to finally add its effluence to the American Sea: the Gulf of Mexico.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.

Psalm 16:5

All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. 

Ecclesiastes 1:7

Mornings start a new day however the moment is revealed. One child was barely walking when the skill of swinging over the rail of a crib and plopping to the floor at daybreak was the first step to a new day. My bed shook a little and a small hand patted my face and a jubilant voice declared, “I up!!!” At that point day after day choices had to be made. Some were family hafta’s from breakfast to getting another adult off to a job. A grocery run might be on the list after delivering older children to school. Off in the corner of my mind were a few wanta’s that might or might not make it to completion. Life had a routine that rocked on the edge of a rut.

Days make months that bleed into years and now I am the only one to decide the flow, yet the routine doesn’t always come easily. The last month has had several outside intruders. One non-threatening health problem required meeting commitments: insurance, physical therapy, doctor appointments. Times for actions taken were penciled in calendar squares. I also had made a decision to change banks. To move money I had to make time to contact a long list of businesses with passwords to make sure money was in the place it should be when payment was required. Every day seemed to demand instigating, noting down, and verifying phone calls or internet connections before I could walk away satisfied after making a heavy black check mark .

Monday my decision maker rebelled. I had planned to go to the bank at 9:00 and finalize a next step. Like a rebellious child, some part of me stamped a foot and screamed, “No!” I sat at the breakfast table with my arms folded over my chest. Then the idea came. I went to the wash room to the infamous junk drawer (you probably have a similar one). I moved everything from more than enough screwdrivers to mixed up batteries to the table. I tested keys and put in a labeled envelope. All hardware of various screws, nails, and bolts were assigned to baggies for Good Will. After an hour, I had a drawer any neatnick would be proud of. Without apologies, I took a morning nap. After lunch, I filled the rest of my day with fringe wanta’s. Tuesday, I turned life over again to cerebral tasks because for Monday to clean a junk drawer was just what I needed.

Ponder the path of your feet, then all of your ways will be sure.

Proverbs 4:26

How special that September came in on a Sunday to provide a full week of the thrill of looking for change. Early in the month we start with a holiday and a four day week. Even if the 1894 recognition for a improving work conditions is not the focus idea, most people look on Labor Day as a chance for one more small trip, bar-b-que and watermelon, and a breather before settling in for an every week the same routine. We even dare to use the word FALL with a little optimism.

Theoretically, September is the first fall month, though that is difficult to prove. The average high temperature may – and may is the operative word – drop to the low 90’s before October comes. We live with the encouragement of daylight arriving later in the morning and dusk falling earlier in the evening. That’s because the Earth’s spinning on its tilting axis and orbiting the sun leads us every year to the Autumnal Equinox on September 22. If you live on the equator, day and night have equal time.

A mixed affirmation of look for something new is the browning of leaves to fall and collect in piles on lawns and under trees. To rake instead of mow is herald of a different season. However, hot, humid weather still greets mornings and the danger of a hurricane, or even two, lurks through the month. One recorded as late as November caused flooding in Big Bend Park in West Texas. In 1961 high winds and rain blew through on Labor Day and wiped out the underground water supply for Spring Branch delaying for a week and a half the real beginning of school.

All else aside, I consider September as the start of moving on instead of January. From families with offsprings to committed teachers, the 9th month is a new year. One is now a 5th grader instead of just a 4th. Friday night football along with profession teams begin thinking about a championship. Clothes, clubs, and school supplies need new as the adjective of choice. This month is a specific reminder of hope, change, and the repetitive circle of a year.

As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.

Genesis 8:22

This is maybe a topic that right off the bat divides my readership whoever you are. Read and follow. Couldn’t care less. Comic – not tickling my funny bone. Those story strips were probably part of the reason I sorta read in first grade and through years of teaching I clipped panels to illustrate plays on words or illustrations of allusions, those life lessons that everyone is familiar with. Join your journey with mine or just shake your head at what attracts some people.

My daddy loved comic strips. He sat in that previously discussed rocking chair and chuckled out loud at the antics of Jeep in Bringing Up Father and of Li’l Abner , the hillbilly who lived in Dogpatch, the counterpart of the day for The Beverly Hillbillies. He sat me on his lap in a position where he could see the paper over my head. One finger pointed to what was happening and the words that brought life to the actions. Two of my favorite strips are still in our paper. Though at one time I was enamored (yes, that’s the word to choose) with Prince Valiant and his Singing Sword and ongoing adventures, that fervor has dwindled. He married, had children, and now is being drawn by the fourth illustrator since 1937. The story line is like reading paragraphs and problems/solutions need to be remembered from Sunday to Sunday. My next ongoing series is The Phantom, currently #22, I think. Very up to date, the strip this week deals with AI and a capsule that is programed to think it has landed on the moon instead of in the jungle.

Comics are not all of this world. The story lines of Peanuts are still from the archives of Charles Shultz and the personalities of his characters will ever remain the same from Lucy being snippy to Charlie Brown’s memorable lines from A Charlie Brown Christmas. B.C. works with the stone age crew that at times offers a spiritual moment to note and remember. As the verse for the week reminds us, papers have to fill pages. On some days, I am just glad I have these as a choice over political discussions, climate disasters, and riots around the world.

There’s no end to the publishing of books, and constant study wears you out 

Ecclesiastes 12:12

Ask any child, “What makes a superhero?” Loudly and clearly, “A cape!” From a towel, to one of Dad’s shirts, to a red shiny swirl with a clasp at the neck, that one item transforms one from timid and incapable to stalwart and invincible. Not a cape, yet maybe my daughter thought I needed help dealing with the challenges of aging when she gave me a shirt identifying me as a javelina complete with a line presentation of the squatty stalwart body with protruding tusks.

I dressed for going forth to solve a problem this week. Age requires more than Tylenol. Some medicines need to be provided only by prescription, approved by insurance, and taken religiously on schedule to avoid disastrous results. Over a week end I had reached a need to have a refilled moment. I checked a password and texted a message to the doctor and received a reply that the request had been sent to the pharmacy.

In and out of a drug store can take care of any need from a greeting card to photos developed. Dealing with the pharmacy is a different level. The white coated employees are the ones who have a degree in the field and can mix and offer specialized advice. The blue outfits can verify your birthday and address and charge your prescription to the card on file. When I called to check, my order was In Process. At 6:30 that night, the word was it would be filled in 90 minutes. That was past my bed time. I’d pick up in the morning.

On line at daylight, the word was Not Available. Time for action. I javelined up and went forth filled with righteous indignation. As I walked through the auto opening door, two phrases came to mind. “A soft answer turns away wrath, ” and “Pick it up by the easy handle.” By the time I got to the back of the store I could say, “What can you do to help me?” A blue-shirted girl was able to call a pharmacy two miles away, share all the information, and give me a yellow sticky to solve the problem. When I looked up javelinas they are not as aggressive as I thought. They live in support groups and find a place to rest in the heat of the day. I can put on my shirt and do that!

So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength,

Colossians 3:12