Me, Myself and I

          The new year is almost here. Out with the old and in with the new, but, it is the old we must worry about. The debt that this country has hanging over it, is to large to even comprehend. It is a debt that our children and grand children will be paying on all their life. It is a problem that is effecting ever country in
the world. People don't want the debt they have, yet, no one is willing to give up what they believe they are
entitled to. One day, those entitlements, will over take the tax money coming in and all entitlements will be lost. Even taxing the wealthy 100% will not be enough to cover the debt. WHAT THEN?
     Will we have riots, like we see in other countries! When and where will it all stop? As I have thought about what we as a nation are facing, I realize how selfish we have become. We think about self, our needs and wants and those of our families. No one else even matters. We are called to be servants in the scriptures. To server others and not think about self. What are we willing to give up for the good of others and for our nation? I wrote a poem several years ago about selfishness, that I'd like to share. Look and see if you can see yourself in this poem! We must each ask, do I serve myself or am I a servant of God?
John 12:23,24



                                                    ME, MYSELF AND I

   Me is always asking, what about me? When is it my turn? Nobody loves me! Nobody wants to help me, nobody even cares. Everybody is out to get me. Me is so frightened, insecure and very dependent on others to meet their needs. Yet, me, does not trust anyone. Believes, God has abandoned me.
   Myself, feels they need no one. I can do it all myself, with no help. Myself is very protective, sometimes yelling to make sure they are heard. With everything they acquire they say, "this is for myself". Selfish, stingy and never shares with others. Myself, doesn't believe they need God.
    I, is very arrogant. I don't need anyone! I can do it alone. Very proud, pout'y and demanding. I, cares for no one else. Lonely, but will not let go of first place. There is no room for loving others. I, doesn't believe they need God.
     Me, Myself and I, Often throw a wild pity party. It leaves them very discouraged, moody and down for days. Me, Myself and I, are so lonely, even when all together. Never allowing anyone else in their lives. They won't let go of first place, no matter how painful or lonely they become.
     Then the Savior, our Lord Jesus Christ, won the heart of me, myself and I. Now they step aside, proclaiming, with our Savior we now abide. The Savior came just for me and gave me life. He told myself, you cannot do it alone, lean on Me. I AM, will carry the load. He came that I could have peace. A place where grace abides. The Savior came and gave up all for me, myself and I, that we could be free. Life is not about me, myself and I, but The One who came and died.
 
     Titus 2:13-14 Learn to be a servant.

     May God's blessing be poured out on each of us and our nation. I pray God's people will humble themselves and call out to God, to heal our land.  2 Chronicles 7:14
     To all my family and friends, I pray for you, our nation and Israel,  for God's grace and peace throughout the new year.
 

To all Happy New Year, Brenda



(c) Copyright 2012 all rights reserved


 

Pecans and Little Sister

Hi Everyone, Want to wish you a very Merry Christmas. This is such a special time of the year. A time to remember that our Savoir  was born. God's gift to the world that first Christmas day can only be compared to the death on the cross of our Savior for you and me. God's love walked this earth as man for 33 years and the world has never been the same.
Christmas holds different memories for each of us. I don't remember the gifts I got except for The White Dog that I shared in my first posting. The small leather purses that James D gave us is my other memory, I called them our first young lady purses. Yet I do have fond Christmas memories. The year my little sister Becky was born is a gift that still keeps on giving and then the baking that mom would do. So I'd like to share two of my writings Pecans and Little Sister. I'll visit again for New Years. Have a wonderful time with your families and let them know you love them.  Brenda



                                                                     Pecans

     Amazingly you can find grace in pecan pie. Growing up in the little house gave me many fond memories. We had pecan trees in the back yard and on the east side of the house. I loved to eat pecans right off the trees. The back yard had soft shell pecans that were longer than the regular pecans. You could easily crack them in your hand. Mom used the regular pecans to do her baking. I have always wished I had a pecan tree in my yard.
     Mom did a lot of baking of cakes and pies to sell.  Making  extra money to help the family. She went through a dishpan of pecans around the holidays. Yes, my favorite pie was and is pecan. She made every pie and cake from scratch, no mix was ever used. Coconut, date, angel food, carrot, German Chocolate and of course banana were among the cakes she baked. Pies included pecan, pumpkin, banana cream, chocolate cream, coconut cream, all kinds of meringues, custard, apple and berry. Later came the mandarin orange and red velvet cake.Our house filled with the most amazing smells at holiday time.
     Around the holidays our tiny kitchen was a flurry of work. Every table and counter was filled with fresh baked pies and cakes, waiting to be picked up. People would call weeks in advance to be sure they got their order in. It was hectic the day before a holiday. mom trying to things ready for the family and everyone picking up their orders.
     I don't remember ever getting a birthday present. Christmas was the time for gifts. But on our birthday, we had the choice of cake or pie that we wanted. Mom's date cake was the best for me and then pecan pie. On April eighth there were two cakes. One for me and one for Linda. That was our special treat and one time we didn't have to share by picking just one cake for the two of us.
     There was always batches of cookies and candy made weeks before Christmas. We would box them up and send to cousins in the military. To me mom's pecan patties and the divinity topped the list with her fudge.
     Mom taught us to cook and bake. But, I was never able to master the pie crust. Thank goodness for store bought. When it came to cooking meals, mom never measured anything. Her measurements consisted on handfuls of this, dabs of that, and pinches of this, seasoning to taste. It is very hard to write down a recipe with that kind of measurements
     Mom's pies, cakes, cookies and candy are among my fondest memories at the little house. You may ask where is the grace in pecans. The warmth and love shared together in the little kitchen and knowing we were loved was God's grace in our lives.




                                                                  Little Sister

     Becky, short for Rebecca Lynn. We were all thrilled when she was born that December day. Linda and I were eleven years old and we thought it would be great to have a little sister. She was spoiled from the day she came home by everyone in the house. Linda and I had a large collection of dolls, Becky managed to get them all, but we didn't care. Linda and I would bribe her to sleep with us. Very rarely did Becky sleep in her own room.
     When Linda and I were to take care of Becky, she would run off to the Packing House, where mom was working, it was a short distance up the lane from the house. Linda would go outside and yell for Becky, but she would never answer. Years later Becky told us she would hear Linda yelling, she just laughed and ignored her.
     Becky hated day care and mom finely hired Rose to stay with her and care for the house. Becky loved staying with Rose and would mind her.We all came to love Rose. She was and always will be a very special person in our lives. I was disappointed when she and Ernie did not come to my wedding. Rose said she didn't think blacks would be welcome in our church. I was deeply saddened by that, but she was probably
right. We rarely see Rose and Ernie any more, mostly at a funeral visitation of our family. Ernie worked for dad for many years. He was a hard working, quiet man and I have a great respect for him.
    Becky loved animals and made pets of everyone that came near our house. She even made pets of the cattle, bulls and horses and would feed them vegetables from the refrigerator. Mom gave in and Becky was the one that she allowed to have a pet in the house. She stayed up all night one time caring for her sick kitten. Several years ago she was looking for a place she could buy in this area and raise cattle to sell. Our brother James told her, no way, you would make pets of everyone and have them all named. You would never be able to sell them. She gave up the idea.
     One thing I do remember, I was laying on the floor watching TV, Becky was sitting on my back and bit me. I yelled, it did hurt but I was the one that got in trouble for yelling. I always felt mom was unfair to me. Becky was very young, I didn't blame her for biting me and I know she didn't mean to hurt me. But I didn't deserve to get in trouble either. That one situation still effects how I handle anger today.
     She loved to embarrass me. Just as David came to the door to pick me up one night for a date, Becky announced, I saw Brenda and David kissing. Then she grinned at me, like she was innocent, I knew better. At that moment I wanted to strangle her.
     When it came to mom and dad, Becky would butt heads with both of them. When she got older and would pick out her own clothes, mom was not always happy with her choice. Becky would find a way to get around her. Becky was the one that could hold her own with dad. They were a lot alike, they fussed at one another all the time. Mom would just shake her head. I think it was fun for both of them. No one else could fuss with dad and get away with it.
     It was not unusual for Becky or one or all of James' kids to go shopping or to run an errand with me for mom. You could often find some of the kids out on a date with David and I. We would take them to the movies from time to time. Becky even sang a valentine song for David, that we recorded. Some years ago we gave Becky a copy of that recording. I have many fond memories of times with all the kids.
     I was not able to watch Becky grow up.She was nine when I married and moved away. Wish I could have been there for her. Becky had some rough times growing up. Dad's health was not the best and there was problems with the business. She has become a beautiful caring woman. Loves to help others. She is still very independent  Has two wonderful kids. Marcus is in Alaska working. Tosha, I worried a lot about her.Traveled the world with her boyfriend on bicycles. They both taught in China for a few years. Now they are back in the states and she is working for a bank.
     Becky likes to stay busy and to travel. She has spent years in Alaska and Arizona. Traveled to Mexico many times. She now makes her home in Canada. Wish I had her energy. Becky will always hold a very special place in my heart. We have spent many hours on the phone over the years and I probably know more of her secrets than any of the family. There has only been a short times in our lives that things have been strained between us.I always look forward to spending time with her. She was an early Christmas present the year she was born but my most treasured of all.


Merry Christmas to all and may God bless your time together the holiday season. Love Brenda




(c) copyright 2012 All rights reserved




.

The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary

Hi family and friends,
Today I write with a heavy heart. The school shooting is so heartbreaking. So many children lost their life because one man chose to go against all that God says not to do. He had a free will and he used it for evil and not good, and the innocent suffers because of it.
As I have thought about it the last few days and wanted to write, I was reminded that God understands exactly what each family is going through. His only Son died on the cross because of the choices men made.So I'd like to share a piece I wrote a few months ago that speaks of the death of our savior and what that means to me. I love all of you and wish you the very best. Brenda


                                                  The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary

                A cross of death, heartaches and tears, is what it was meant to be. So many hung on the crosses of ancient times. For freedom rights, for peace and safety for their families, was their guilty plea. They were judged by cruel men who cared not for humanity. One less piece of trash to keep under control. Not even given the right to be called a person of dignity.
                 But, there was a cross in all that time, that history still cannot define. A different man hung on that cross for the world to see. Even nature cried out for the injustice done that day. The wind, the rain, the darkened skies, the fear it brought to some, could not explain why that cross was different on that day. The
tree that made the cross cried out. oh evil man can't you see, it's Love that hangs on me.
                 The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary, that is where Love died for you and me. The man called Jesus, accepted the debt. To the Father above he did plea for you and me. The price he paid was death for all to see. Love so great to hell he went,but in three days he returned as King. And Love would never die again.
                  The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary bought salvation for you and me. The emblem of suffering and shame, where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain. Yes, I'll cherish that old rugged cross. Despised by the world but holds a wondrous attraction for me. Stained with the blood of the dear Lamb of God, no greater beauty has ever been seen. It stands today in the hearts of man, to the lost and dying world we plea. Come accept the Savior at the foot of The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary.
                   The song The Old Rugged Cross is a treasure I hold. For I know my Savior died on that cross for me and no greater love have I ever known. The grace of God, I'll never let go. My Lord has won the victory for me on The Beautiful Cross Of Calvary




(c) Copyright 2012 all rights reserved

The White Dog

Hi my name is Brenda Carney Eldred, I graduated high school in Dexter Mo in 1965. For many years now I
have journaled but a few years ago, I started to write. Writing was for myself or to share with family and friends. I received so much encouragement that I started putting a book together. I have not published it yet, but decided to blog to see if others would enjoy my writings also. I told my sister Becky that I was lost when it comes to computers but she encouraged me to just jump in and see what happens. So here I am. My book is Journey of Grace, it is about God's amazing grace in my life, also poetry and other short  stories. I will share some of my writing every few days. Today, to get started, I share a piece I wrote last month for my writers group. I am in my third year with the Ozarks Chapter of American Christian Writers. Here is my first published blog story.The White Dog is about Christmas and the white stuffed dogs, our brother James gave Linda and I one year before we started school.
                                                         

                                                               The White Dog
     Linda and I were only six that Christmas, so long ago. I don't remember what time of day it was, presents had been opened and we were playing on the floor. Mom, dad and sister Phyllis was there and our brother Kenny, who was two years older than Linda and I.
     Suddenly our brother James, who was fifteen, came through the door dragging a hugh  box. He had saved his money from helping dad in the family business, just for Christmas. My eyes grew big with excitement as Linda and I learned the box was for us. Looking at the box through six year old eyes, it seemed like it touched the ceiling. James had to lay the box on its side for us to open. Out of the box, we each dragged a large white fluffy dog. They were almost as big as we were.
     The dogs had a large head that rested on its front paws. Long floppy ears that touched the floor. A body large enough for a six year old to sit on and it had a short fluffy tail. Throughout Christmas day you could find Linda and I playing with our dogs. Sometimes lying on the floor, using them as a pillow. Other times sitting on them and using the ears to hold onto like a halter.
     Aunt Joe and Uncle Junior came in with their kids, Susan four and Wade two. For the next several hours, the four of us spent time playing and talking, but the center attraction for all of us was the white dogs.
     From that day forward, my white dog always sat beside my bed. A few years later, we moved into the big house on the hill, after Grandma Carney passed away. My dog could still be found beside my bed. My sister Becky, eleven years younger, could be found from time to time sitting or playing with the white dog.
     As I grew into my teenage years, my dog found its way under the bed and was forgotten for several years. Then as I prepared for my wedding and was putting things in storage, in a spare room at my parents home, I found my dog once again. It was so very dirty but the memories of that Christmas came flooding back. I dusted it off and carefully packed it away with most of our wedding gifts. I was only able to take what would fit into a mustang. David was in the air force, stationed at Altas, Oklahoma and our apartment was furnished. Personal items and clothing was all I took with me.
     Nine months later David was on his way to Guam and I joined him three months later. More things were added to the storage for the next two years. Finely back in the states and settled in Illinois, we had all of our belongs with us. The white dog once again found its place at the side of our bed.
     Two little boys came along and from time to time would play with the white dog. A few times I told the story of that special Christmas day, when their uncle James, gave me the white dog. They have probably forgotten by now, it was so long ago.
     As the boys grew and left home, my dog once again found its way to my room, in the closet, under the bed and finely under a chair. I could see it each time I entered the room and went to the closet and I fondly remembered that special Christmas. Strange but I never did give the white dog a name.
     Then at fifty nine and rearranging the room I decided it was time to get rid of the white dog. It was stained from many years of playing.Most of the fluffy material was gone and its head no longer stood up but fell to one side. The ears were so droopy and no fuss was left at all. Little did I know my dear brother James would lose his battle with cancer, just over a year latter.
     Now I only have pictures and the memories. But I have put those memories into words so that some day my grandchildren can read about the white dog that meant so very much to their grandmother and they can see the joy of that day in the pictures of Linda, Susan, Wade and I with the white dogs on that very special Christmas Day.

(c) Copyright 2012 all rights reserved.