religion

I was mulling over this thought while cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast the other morning when someone knocked loudly on the back door: “We are here to work on the pier and did not want the noise of the machines to frighten you.” I had forgotten that a crew of big, strong men was to arrive that morning to rebuild and strengthen the 256-foot pier that goes out into Dickinson Bayou on Galveston Bay where my friend lives.

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I read much of the time, and before Hurricane Ike destroyed a great deal of the Bolivar Peninsula, I had quite a personal collection of good books. Some might not seem like significant works to others, but to me, they were old and dear friends. I might not be able to tell you the exact page number of a certain quote or story, but I could come very close to opening many of my books and pointing to the left top or the bottom right of the page where the writing nested. I had used many of these books for quote sources or good illustrations in all of these years of writing.

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I wrote recently about some of the budgeting lessons I learned from my precious Mama Cole while I lived in her home from the time of my birth until my biological mother remarried and moved me to the Atlanta area of Georgia. Mama Cole did not believe in owing anyone and was adamant that if we could not pay cash for it, we could not have it.

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An old thought from my childhood crossed my mind last night, and I have given it considerable mulling over time since it did. I have now reached the age when I can think about something for as long as I want, often without interruption or change of course, since my children are grown and gone from home, and I am not working full time. I like this newfound ability very much.

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I don’t really know if it is a woman thing or a man thing or perhaps a people thing, but we seem to spend so much of our time worrying about what happened in the past or what will happen in the future that we forget to enjoy today. I am guilty. I have found myself going through so many adjustments and changes since my husband died Aug. 16, 2014, that little has seemed normal or “right” in my world.

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Reading in the Book of 1 Samuel, we meet another of God’s chosen servants, Hannah, whose soul longed for a child. We learn she was a consecrated woman and had a good and faithful heart. For those that know the back of the book, we are aware that God honored her sincere request and allowed Hannah to become the mother of Samuel, the earliest of the great Hebrew prophets after Moses and the last of the judges. Her story breathes of her love and care for her firstborn.

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In a recent column, we met one of the Marys that we find in Scripture and determined that it is important to remember just which woman we are referencing in teaching or writing. Mary Magdalene is referred to in each of the four gospels as being an integral element in the ministry of Jesus Christ on earth.

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History tells us that the story of Valentine’s Day begins in the third century with an oppressive Roman emperor, Claudius II, and a humble Christian martyr, Valentinus. We of course, do not know for certain if this is the case, but this version has lasted through countless years and has been repeated from generation to generation.

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If you follow my column regularly (and I appreciate those who do), you may remember that we met Mary Magdalene, the person I believe received the most important message ever given: “Go and tell My disciples that I am alive.” These words came from the Lord Jesus after He had risen from the dead as He said He would. We then met Peter, also called Son of Jonah, the Apostle Peter, Simon Peter and “the Rock.” (Yes, I know we have a modern day wrestler named the Rock, but he has little strength compared to the man Jesus called the Rock).

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When Jesus first spoke to the brothers Andrew and Peter, who were fishermen by profession, he told them to follow Him and He would make them fishers of men. Andrew and Peter might not have grasped exactly what those words meant at the time, but in the coming months and years, they would see the Lord’s words come to fruition.

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