Friday, April 27, 2012

Friday Funnies!

Staff Parking!

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"
Proverbs 17:22

Friday, April 20, 2012

Friday Funnies!

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"
Proverbs 17:22

(Hmmm! This was a scheduled post that was supposed to post this morning.
It didn't! I wonder what other funny stuff blogger has up it's sleeve?)

Monday, April 16, 2012

Decorating For The Birds!

I'm not sure how it happened, but I have somehow
amassed a collection of birdhouses!
It's okay, though, for I love birds!
This is the entryway to our little abode,
and I like to change up the decor with each season.
I've had all these birdhouses displayed in my
hall bathroom for a couple of years
but thought it would be fun to bring them
out for a springtime display in my entryway!

Below the shelf, that my dear Gentleman Farmer made for me,
 which holds the birdhouses,
is a dear old vanity that was once my grandmothers.
I love it here in the entryway because
it is so handy to set down one's things upon entering the home,
or for a quick glance to check one's hair or clothing
before leaving.
It is always a gentle reminder, each time I pass it, of the grand
lady that raised me from a small child.

The birdhouses came mostly as gifts,
though the large one I bought
because it was too good a price
to pass up! 

A little display of a charming hummingbird nest
with a sweet little 'mushroom' bird and a
lichen covered twig under a glass dome.

Here are several bird eggs, in various stages of
development, as found around the farm.
A chalk ware plate with violets stands behind.
It was my grandma's too!

Because the entryway is very dark,
I like to have a lamp there, in addition to the
overhead light. The lamp gives a softer, more welcoming glow.
I have two 'birdhouse' lamps, one a rusty red and this one,
a faded blue.
I favor the blue, but the shade that came with the lamp
was too large to sit properly on the vanity. I 'borrowed' one
that was a better size from a lamp in my bedroom, but I
didn't like the color. Remembering some fabric in my stash,
I fashioned a little slipcover for the shade
with the bird covered cloth.
If you would like to see a quick little tutorial on
how I made it, please visit The Sewing Room.


"How amiable are thy tabernacles, O LORD of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the LORD: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O LORD of hosts, my King, and my God. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will be still praising thee. Selah."
Psalms 84:1-4


Friday, April 13, 2012

Friday Funnies!

A collection of humorous newspaper clippings!

And this was reported, why?

Such happy memories!

These must be the smartest deer around ~ they can read!

Such a happy companion for children!

"If I were a rich man..."

Pay first!

You be the judge!

Hope he was wearing SPF 15!

Must be all muscle?

Big cops!

M I Double S, I, Double S....

I'll take the cat!

KFC has really fresh chicken!

It's all Greek to me!

My personal favorite!


"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"
Proverbs 17:22

Thursday, April 12, 2012


...a girl just needs a simple, little refreshment.

Organic Peanut butter, and homemade Raspberry Jam on
Cracked wheat bread with a tall, ice cold glass of raw Jersey milk!

"That I may come unto you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed."
Romans 15:32

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Friday, April 6, 2012

The Ragman ~ an Easter Story

No Friday Funnies today. Instead I give you this repost from last year ~ an Easter Story told on Christian Radio by one of my favorite preachers ~ Alistair Begg.


by Walter Wangerin, Jr.

I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange, like nothing my life, my street sense, my sly tongue had ever prepared me for.

Hush, child. Hush, now, and I will tell it to you.

Even before the dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome and strong, walking the alleys of our City. He was pulling an old cart filled with clothes both bright and new, and he was calling in a clear, tenor voice: "Rags!" Ah, the air was foul and the first light filthy to be crossed by such sweet music.

"Rags! New rags for old! I take your tired rags! Rags!"

"Now, this is a wonder," I thought to myself, for the man stood six-feet-four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, and his eyes flashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be a ragman in the inner city?

I followed him. My curiosity drove me. And I wasn't disappointed.

Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch. She was sobbing into a handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad X. Her shoulders shook. Her heart was breaking.

The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, he walked to the woman, stepping round tin cans, dead toys, and Pampers.

"Give me your rag," he said so gently, "and I'll give you another."

He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up, and he laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined. She blinked from the gift to the giver.

Then, as he began to pull his cart again, the Ragman did a strange thing: he put her stained handkerchief to his own face; and then HE began to weep, to sob as grievously as she had done, his shoulders shaking. Yet she was left without a tear.

"This IS a wonder," I breathed to myself, and I followed the sobbing Ragman like a child who cannot turn away from mystery.

"Rags! Rags! New rags for old!"

In a little while, when the sky showed grey behind the rooftops and I could see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the Ragman came upon a girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage, whose eyes were empty. Blood soaked her bandage. A single line of blood ran down her cheek.

Now the tall Ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart.

"Give me your rag," he said, tracing his own line on her cheek, "and I'll give you mine."

The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the bandage, removed it, and tied it to his own head. The bonnet he set on hers. And I gasped at what I saw: for with the bandage went the wound! Against his brow it ran a darker, more substantial blood - his own!

"Rags! Rags! I take old rags!" cried the sobbing, bleeding, strong, intelligent Ragman.

The sun hurt both the sky, now, and my eyes; the Ragman seemed more and more to hurry.

"Are you going to work?" he asked a man who leaned against a telephone pole. The man shook his head.

The Ragman pressed him: "Do you have a job?"

"Are you crazy?" sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole, revealing the right sleeve of his jacket - flat, the cuff stuffed into the pocket. He had no arm.

"So," said the Ragman. "Give me your jacket, and I'll give you mine."

Such quiet authority in his voice!

The one-armed man took off his jacket. So did the Ragman - and I trembled at what I saw: for the Ragman's arm stayed in its sleeve, and when the other put it on he had two good arms, thick as tree limbs; but the Ragman had only one.

"Go to work," he said.

After that he found a drunk, lying unconscious beneath an army blanket, and old man, hunched, wizened, and sick. He took that blanket and wrapped it round himself, but for the drunk he left new clothes.

And now I had to run to keep up with the Ragman. Though he was weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling his cart with one arm, stumbling for drunkenness, falling again and again, exhausted, old, old, and sick, yet he went with terrible speed. On spider's legs he skittered through the alleys of the City, this mile and the next, until he came to its limits, and then he rushed beyond.

I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see his sorrow. And yet I needed to see where he was going in such haste, perhaps to know what drove him so.

The little old Ragman - he came to a landfill. He came to the garbage pits. And then I wanted to help him in what he did, but I hung back, hiding. He climbed a hill. With tormented labor he cleared a little space on that hill. Then he sighed. He lay down. He pillowed his head on a handkerchief and a jacket. He covered his bones with an army blanket. And he died.

Oh, how I cried to witness that death! I slumped in a junked car and wailed and mourned as one who has no hope - because I had come to love the Ragman. Every other face had faded in the wonder of this man, and I cherished him; but he died. I sobbed myself to sleep.

I did not know - how could I know? - that I slept through Friday night and Saturday and its night, too.

But then, on Sunday morning, I was wakened by a violence.

Light - pure, hard, demanding light - slammed against my sour face, and I blinked, and I looked, and I saw the last and the first wonder of all. There was the Ragman, folding the blanket most carefully, a scar on his forehead, but alive! And, besides that, healthy! There was no sign of sorrow nor of age, and all the rags that he had gathered shined for cleanliness.

Well, then I lowered my head and trembling for all that I had seen, I myself walked up to the Ragman. I told him my name with shame, for I was a sorry figure next to him. Then I took off all my clothes in that place, and I said to him with dear yearning in my voice: "Dress me."

He dressed me. My Lord, he put new rags on me, and I am a wonder beside him. The Ragman, the Ragman, the Christ!


"Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

II Corinthians 5:17

Thursday, April 5, 2012

A little spot of Springtime!

Inspired by the brief, albeit welcomed sunshine,
I brought out my few pieces of Springtime decor consisting
of chicks, eggs and bunnies.
I hesitate to call it Easter decor,
for none of these represent the
Truth of Easter.

A few flowers from the garden

 Sweet little golden chicks

 an assortment of eggs.

These are some first attempts at Pysanki (Ukrainian Easter eggs) that
I made ages ago. These are dark and not very
Springlike, as all  the pretty ones have been
given away.

These are some 'drilled' goose eggs
also made years ago,when I kept geese.
The eggs are blown out and cleaned
with a vinegar solution to whiten the shells
and dissolve the thick membrane lining the
inner shell. Draw a design on the shell
and with a Dremmel Drill fitted with a small
grinding bit, 'cut' out your design.
These are much prettier if sprayed with
a light coat of varnish.
If I ever get more goose or duck eggs
I will make some more and perhaps do a tutorial.


The chicks and eggs speak of the
'new birth' of Spring and
are a reminder of the New Birth
that we can have because
of the death and Resurrection
of our Saviour Jesus Christ!

"I am He that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore."
Rev. 1:18
"Because I live, ye shall live also."
John 14:19

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