Showing posts from November, 2015

The Twelve Blogs of Christmas #1

What would this special season be without some heartwarming stories of love, faith, and family? While these tales don’t qualify for holiday Hallmark movies, they were experiences that helped folks discover the best gifts aren’t found under the tree they come from a heart of love.

                   Friday Tidings will be sharing twelve "heart-touching" stories.

Full of Thanks

Lilly stood on a kitchen stool washing forks and spoons in sudsy water. Next in line were the plates that she’d already scraped off, and then the worst—dirty cooking pans. It was her nightly chore since Mommy needed to study. 
The doorbell rang and Mommy didn’t seem to hear it, so Lilly ran to open the door. No one was there, but a box was left in front of the door.

Mommy came up next to her and they both looked upon the box containing a Thanksgiving dinner—a small turkey, cans of fruit, green beans, gravy, a package of rolls, stuffing mix, a pumpkin pie, even a box of candy. Lilly squealed with delight. …

End Times Checklist

It began like this: “You religious people are the problem. It’s all about your god and things being done YOUR way.”  Not exactly a friendly blog critic.
“ISIS is doing this because of all you sign-waving christ-loving idiots.” 

I considered replying that thus far ISIS has killed more Muslims than Christians—which is why there are millions of refugees literally running for their lives. Grisly videos portray ISIS murdering Christians and anyone else not strictly adhering to their creed. ISIS has no love of diversity (read: gay rights, women’s rights or religious freedom).

But the lambast continued: “People shouldn’t be allowed to dictate their religion to others.” 
Easier said than done in the Middle East right now. ISIS has conquered a land mass about the size of Great Britain. Their goal is the world. But before ISIS began its brutalities others had the same supremacist ideals. In earlier times horrendous bloodshed came at the hands of the Imperialists, Nazis, and Communists. Religion…

The Power of No

Rejection hurts no matter how softly it’s delivered. It took just one line in the brief letter to tell me they weren’t interested in my project. 
Rejected again. 
That’s the life of a grant-writer. You spend hours carefully crafting words about an exciting endeavor with provable results. All that’s needed is money. And then you wait to hear if a corporation or foundation will buy in.
I’ve heard no more times than I’ve heard yes. But quitting was never an option with needs stacked as high as they are in our small rural community. If I’ve learned anything from a decade of grant writing is the power of no.
Every no has a lesson to learn. The no becomes the catalyst to look beyond the rejection letter, go back and rework the words to express the need more convincingly. And it works. Eventually. Good projects are always funded….eventually.

So there you have my word for the week—eventually. The power of no is that eventually it will be a yes. 
Have you heard a no recently? Maybe at work, or i…

Carly's Face and America's Obsession with Beauty

First it was Donald Trump demeaning Carly Fiorina’s facial features. Then last week it was the ladies on The View. The hosts, Whoopi Goldberg, Joy Behar, Michelle Collins, Paula Faris, and Raven-Symone compared Carly's face to a Halloween mask and joked about her “demented” smile. Enough. It’s one thing to discuss the points Carly articulates so well, it’s another to mock her appearance. 
Carly has taken the abuse and criticism with her trademark eloquence. Yet, every time she comes to the microphone others may recall senseless remarks about her appearance rather than what she has to say. This is a critical election and the debates, the campaign speeches, and the interviews are all we have to evaluate who can lead our nation.

Beauty won’t help the national efforts to deal with our debt crisis, ISIS, foreign policy, immigration, or any other vital issue. But we’ve been conditioned by Hollywood to evaluate by appearances.

I’ll never forget the time my mom hauled me by the arm into a ha…