From the Cobwebs: Superman # 1

 I was home on leave from Luke Air Force Base at Christmastime sometime in the early 90's. Vicky and Douglas were still living at home, and--surprisingly--Lana was home, too. Getting all four of us home at the same time was always a challenge. Perhaps, it was that we were all home that made Daddy so sentimental; but, I remember a conversation we all had sitting in that living room at 422.

Smiling that smile he has when he is happy, Daddy told us that we were each his favorite child. I remember wondering how in the world that was possible when he explained with four stories. I don't really remember anyone else's story. Those of you who are old enough will remember a handy device called a play-pen. A mother could place her child in it, along with several toys and a sippy cup, and the child would play by himself for quite some time. Daddy and Mother had one of those for me when I was still in diapers. It was obviously a usual thing for me to spend the later part of my afternoon in that gizmo because Daddy's favorite moment for me involved it. When he walked in the front door of base housing, he would shout a greeting at us. According to him, every day--when I heard his voice--I would crane my neck back in order to see him. To me, his voice came from somewhere way up high, as if my daddy was 12 feet tall-- bigger and better and cooler and funnier and more wonderful than any other man alive. This poem comes from that memory.

Superman # 1

No matter how old

I get, you'll always be as

tall as the ceiling.

 While recovering from cervical spine surgery, I tried to branch out a bit. I read A LOT—everything from The Reagan Diaries to The Case For Christ to Lloyd Alexander’s series The Book of Three. I learned to like a few new bands and songs. I even took a painting class with my Aunt Gail.

During that class, I re-learned some of the basics of painting and learned some new things, also. I learned how to mix my own colors and about the different kinds of brushes and what can be created using each different one. I learned how to make “reflections” on water and even how to erase my mistakes—if I catch them soon enough!
On my last day of class, my teacher, Joyce, was showing me how to put the finishing touches on my painting. My job was to paint a few pieces of “uniquely hued” grass right around the front of the trees. Since she didn’t think I needed very many of these fuchsia and orange grasses, she was reluctant to allow me to add those colors to my palette. This was because most people—when squeezing paint out of the tube onto the palette—use too much and waste the paint.
To solve this problem, Joyce brought me one of those small plastic containers filled with the leftover paint from previous weeks. She showed me how to take the tiny, pointy brush (Okay—so I didn’t learn all the names of the brushes), dip into water to thin out the paint, and then paint the grasses.
So, here I was dipping my brush into this small plastic container filled with paint. As I dipped I thought, “Well, I never thought I’d be using this contraption as a palette. Just goes to show ya that almost anything can be used to be creative. You just can’t count anything out, can ya?”
Immediately, I stilled. You know, the way they do in the movies when someone has an epiphany. I thought again, “It’s kinda like Christianity, yeah? You just can’t count anyone out.” Christians come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. People—who aren’t anything like what we think Christians are or ought to be—can become Christians. They can be affected by the Gospel and then be molded and shaped by God’s Word.
It is easy to behave like the people described in James 2: 1-3. We decide—based on someone’s dress or words or actions—that they wouldn’t be interested in learning about God’s love. And really, who are we to judge? When Jesse presented Eliab as a possible future king of Israel, God Himself said, “Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (II Samuel 16: 7)
Just a few verses later (vss. 11-13), David, the youngest of Jesse’s boys was picked over all his elder brothers. This was just the beginning of David’s usefulness to God. By the end of his life, God described David as a man after his own heart.
In Bible times, women weren’t really looked upon as equal citizens in ability or worth. Nevertheless, the Bible is rife with examples of women who helped make the church stronger. Dorcas, for example, was well-known for her godly works. (Acts 9:36, 39) She spent her days making clothes for those who were needy and being kind and good. Lydia, a businesswoman in the city of Thyatira, upon learning of God’s love, obeyed His commands and immediately began working at encouraging brethren and strengthening the Kingdom. (Acts 9 and 16: 14, 15, 40)
In II Timothy 1:5, Paul gave kudos to Lois and Eunice, the mother and grandmother of Timothy for their work in making Timothy the man he was—Paul’s right hand man. Mary Magdalene began her spiritual journey as a demon-filled woman. After they were expelled, she began contributing monetarily to the work of God. (Luke 8:2) Mary, was one of the few standing at the Cross as Christ died (John 19: 25) and was the one of Christ’s followers who discovered his empty tomb on the third day. (John 20: 1-2) Despite her dubious origins, Mary was clearly part of that special group of people with whom Christ spent His last days.
Peter, along with his brother, Andrew, was merely a fisherman working in a family owned business when he met Christ. However, He helped them to become “fishers of men” (Mk. 1:16-18) and—on the day of Pentecost—thousands of souls were added to the Kingdom because of his efforts. (Acts 2:41, 42, 47)
If we are looking through the feeble and cloudy eyes of man, it is so easy to mis-read people and their intentions and their attitudes. My sister and brother-in-law, at their first meeting with me, saw—instead of an immoral, alcoholic fornicator—a soul who needed God’s love and forgiveness. I thank God GREATLY for their clear and loving eyes. I hope we’ll all make diligent efforts to see people through the eyes of God. Just some food for thought. Love y’all.

From the Cobwebs: The Promise

 

This poem was written by Mother in 1971 as she watched a two-year-old Loralee sleep. It reads, in part, like a conversation or prayer to God regarding her hopes and fears of the role she played as a mother. Through the years, I have harbored in my heart some questions as to whether or not she really wanted or loved me due to some of the behavior she exibited toward me, especially in comparison to my siblings. This little part of me really appreciates reading this poem, years later, and knowing, for certain, that at one time, my welfare, my spiritual path, and the kind of person I would become mattered to her. It is a really lovely poem.

The Promise

I watched my baby's face tonight
as she lay curled in sleep,
and wondered how, on God's great earth
the promise I could keep.

To guide her and to show her...
Not to do just the things I said,
But ready her to attempt the things
Just right for her, instead.

To help her learn to know herself
and be proud of what she knew...
and maybe...just a little,
She'd be proud of Mommy, too.

Can I teach her what it means to be
A mother and a wife?
Yet never let her see the tears
at the sound of a distant fife?

Can I let her have her heartaches
And learn with them, as I did?
Can I remember, while she's learning,
That I, too, was once a kid?

Can I teach her how to clean a house
When my example isn't great?
Can I teach her to be on time
If I am almost always late?

Can I teach her all the things
That my Mom taught to me?
Can I, in teaching them to her,
Somehow become a better me?

God, help me keep the promise
Given at her birth,
To guide the child you've loaned me
and make hers a better earth.

Pattalee Glass-Ford-November 9, 1971

-- An end note: Whilst typing this poem onto a Myspace blog, I noticed the date on which she wrote this poem. It just brings chills to my heart. Some of you know that just a few years after Mother wrote this poem pleading with God that she would be able bring me up in the right way and make sure she would do right by the God who gave me to her...she left God and the church behind her. But somehow, strangely, this prayer she prayed in poem form came to fruition because twenty years after she wrote the above poem, on November 9, 1991, I was baptized into Christ and became a part of God's church. Exactly 20 years later, to the day.

From the Cobwebs: NO SALE

 I know some of you who subscribe to this blog think I have a special way with words. I like hearing it, but I gotta tell ya...my mother was waaaayy better. It must have been a partial writing gene from HER, along with the auburn hair gene that got twisted into my DNA strand upon my conception sometime in the month of January of 1969. (Edit, To be truthful...information attained after the original writing has put that conception somewhere in the Autumn of 1968) One of the poems she wrote really struck me and I wanted to share it.

NO SALE

You can't bargain for tomorrow.
Time is never yours to trade.
Tomorrow isn't offered.
Until Today's been paid.

You can't pay with cash or check
or money order form.
You'll not get a warning notice,
or grace because of storm.

Life gives you but a minute,
The one you have right now.
It's up to you to fill it,
Someway...somewhere...somehow.

You may not have another.
There is no guarantee
And no way to force one second
With any court's decree.

When your last second slides away,
your eternity begun.
Will you say, "I paid today..."
or did you squander one?

Pattalee Glass-Ford-November 1971

This poem made me cry when I read it. It was written by a woman who still had some connection with the church which belongs to Christ and with the values she was taught during her childhood. But she made her choice. I guess the tears I shed were useless because we can't change the past and we can't decide what other people do. But, we can heed the advice given by the young 28-year-old Mrs. Ford and use each moment wisely serving the God we know lives and loves us.

From the Cobwebs: The Anchor

    Imagine you are on a boat, sailing the high seas.  You have all the things you need:  a sail, a helm, a galley, bunk beds, and an anchor.  You are sailing along when you happen upon a most idyllic spot on the ocean.  At this spot, a lovely breeze is blowing, the sun is shining so as to warm you, but not bake you, and there is no roughness in the waters.  It is perfection.  You have plenty of supplies so you decided you want to stay in this spot for a bit.  So, now that you’ve made the decision to stay, how do you accomplish it?

 

    How can you assure that you stay at this exact latitude and longitude?  Well, you drop the anchor, yeah?  You let it drop all the way down to the sea floor where—conveniently—it hooks under the edge of a solid sheet of rock.  So, now you’re safe and can stay right here in your newly found paradise for as long as you want to do so.  Even on those rare occasions when storms come to mar the beauty of your oasis, you will stay right latitude and the right longitude because you have lowered your anchor and you are secure.  No matter how strongly the winds blow no matter how roughly the winds toss your boat you will not move from that rock to which you are affixed.  You are safe.

We are just like that boat, y’all.   If we lower our anchors all the way down and attach ourselves to the bedrock of Christ, we’ll be safe.  It won’t matter how hard the winds of false doctrine blow in our faces.  We will stand firm.  It won’t matter how intense Satan makes our toils and tribulations.  We will stay securely fastened to Christ and Salvation. Because we’re anchored to the bedrock foundation of God’s Word.   

 

 

Repeating Unspoken Words

 

Repeating Unspoken Words

for mom.

They are in the tiny, hand-made,

A-line dress with tangerine-colored strings

that tied at the back of my sun-burned neck.

Each stitch of the red, embroidered

flower on the front pocket

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the, now tarnished, Gemeinhardt flute

which often sat with me in the last chair.

Each payment of $23.00 earned at

her job at Judson Road Growers

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the Christmas tree cake needed for

biology class, remembered...almost too late.

That last bit of colored, home-made frosting,

squeezed out at two in the morning,

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the tears which fell from

the bottom of those really thick

blue glasses as I climbed into Daddy's

truck at 4 a.m. and headed toward downtown.

Each wipe of kleenex at her eyes

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in Claude, the dog. His soft white fur,

dark black ears, and pink bow are a comfort

to me as he lies beside me each night.

Each gruffly spoken word that boxing day

(Here you go. He is for you)

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the two, maybe even three blankets

that she wrapped around me when she

found me asleep on the upstairs couch.

Each word of comfort, whispered softly

as I lie there nearing dreamland

repeating unspoken words of love.

They are in the hour-long phone calls...

which, now, always end with

spoken words of love.

But she doesn't need to speak them.

...not really.

because I still hear her voice

repeating unspoken words of love.

From the Cobwebs: The Dark Shadow

    I found this old piece of writing that came up on my Facebook Memories. I had forgotten the whole backstory until I read through everything. Facebook has a reputation of taking things you've posted and getting rid of them, so NOW I post everything important on my blogspot (and eventually a usb) 

    In 2007, I was going through boxes in my storage unit and found this A+++ piece of literature that I wrote when I was in elementary school. I typed it out, word-for-word and letter-for-letter. I proudly claim all the spelling mistakes which, reasonably, belong to the writing style of an 8-year-old. Once I got to a certain point, I 'finished' the previously 'unfinished' story, trying to stay with the theme, and adding elements of my life as a 38-year-old. I'm sure y'all won't be surprised that it had a happy ending!!! 

    Anyway, here is one of the first stories I ever wrote and proof that I've been creating, not only in art form, but also in writing form, for many, many years! I hope y'all enjoy it. I made me laugh out loud. And I read it aloud to the 'Rachel' who made an appearance in the story and she liked it, too!! 

                                                     The Dark Shadow

               written and illustrated By: Loralee Ford (Sorry, no illustrations are extant!) 

     Part 1 Once there were 7 sisters and there names were Susan, Sylvia, Gay, Ann, Felishia, Brenda, and Shamarie, since Shamarie was seven a shadow was around her house. Susan said "hit's that Shadow agian." "I'm scaird" said Ann. 

     Part 2 "Well, I'm not!" said Sylvia. "The rest of you may-be scared." "What would you do if the shadow came up behind you and grabbed you." demanded Gay. Sylvia said, "I would scream as loud as I could." Brenda said, "I wouldn't, I'd run as fast as I'm able." Felicia asked, "How do you spell mouse trap in 3 letters?" Susan replied, C-A-T. That joke is dumb." Felicia said, "I was just trying to cheer you all up!" 

     Part 3 "Oh! That is Dumb" said Sylvia. Sylvia asked Why is a rabbit's nose always shiny? "Because he has the powder puff on the right end" Felicia said. Susan said "Because he has the powder puff on the wrong end." "right" said Sylvia. "Susan is right" "Just because I got it wrong Don't mean you have to make fun of me!" Well Just Because we say something it dosn't mean you have to cry! "I know but......and The lights went out for a min. Then they were on agian but Sylvia was gone. Lori(editor's note: Where did 'Lori' come from? She wasn't one of the original seven sisters! Did I just want to insert myself in the story? P.S. My nickname as a child was 'Lori.') Susan Gay Ann Felaia Shamaire went out to look for her. 

     Part 4 and then they came to a big house on a Mountain. On the front of the House it said: go in and they went in. and they saw a shadow it was dancing like a ghost. "I'm still scard" said Ann "I told you Don't be scard" said Gay. 

     Part 5 Susan asked Why don't womam be-come bald as fast as men? Brenda replied "Because they wear their hair longer" "right, " replied susan. "What if the shadow gets us?" Asked ShamMarie. 

     Part 6 "We will get mom and dad fast and try to get out of the house" Gay exclaimed. "How can we, the door is locked?" demanded Sylvia. And there aren't any window!" continued Susan. "Well we have a hammer it might help." Demaned Brenda.    

    Part 7 We can kic the shadow down and run. One day they went to..............(The original script ends here. Everything from here on out is written in 2007) ....their friend Rachel's house. She and her sister, Abbey, were really good at Tai-Bo, so the girls thought they might be helpful with defeating the Dark Shadow. Then they all decided that they should head on over to Daniel and Bryant's house. They were twin brothers and were really smart, so they all decided that the boys might be helpful in knowing what can defeat the Dark Shadow. 

     They decided to meet at Chipotles and eat Mexican food and plan their attack. While they were eating, Jackie, Rebecca, Jamie, and Karen S. came in to the Chipotle's to eat, also. "What are you all doing here?" demanded Jackie. "We are planning to defeat the Dark Lord...errrr...I mean Shadow." declared Rachel. "Yeah, Bryant, do you know what a horcrux is and how we can defeat it?" asked Felicia and Gay in unison. "What do you get when you combine 5 female pigs and five male deer?" asked Felicia. "Ten sows and bucks. That joke is pheeewwweeeeeee!" said Susan. Felicia replied nicely "I was just trying to cheer y'all up!" 

     Part 8 The gang finally decided on a plan. As they headed out of Chipotles and toward the Mountain on which was perched the house wherein the Dark Shadow danced like a ghost, they ran into Analisa, and Bug, and Reagan and Shelby and Noah and Amelia and Jon Rountree and Reina and Katie and Jason and Randa and Robin and Lacey (LF2) and Diana and Catherine and Philip and Edmund and Rick and Lieh. 

     They all crossed Town Lake in canoes. Whilst they were rowing, the newcomers asked what the plan was to defeat the Dark Shadow. "It is a secret,” declared Abbey, Rachel, Daniel and Bryant. We will tell you when we get to the house. So, they reached the other side of Town Lake and they walked up the Mountain to the scary house that had "go in" painted in big red letters on the front. When they walked in they heard music and saw the shadow dancing like a ghost to "You make me feel like dancing" by Leo Sayer. Everyone loved that song, so they took a few moments from their Dark Shadow-defeating to dance the Macarena to that song. 

     Part 9 When they finished dancing , they all faced the Dark Shadow and explained to him that he scared them and they didn't like it. "Oh, but I don't want to scare you." explained the Dark Shadow. "I don't have any friends so I put on music and dance. I painted the "go in" in big red letters hoping that some people might come in and be my friends. Plus I like corny jokes, too. So, if you know any, I'd like to hear them. "Oh," declared Shamarie "I know one! Why was six afraid of seven?" "Why" demanded the Dark Shadow. "Because 7 ate nine!" "Oh, that was very funny!" explained the Dark Shadow "now will you be my friends? Please?!?" "Yes, we'll be your friends!" said the whole gang " we'll even do the Macarena again every once in a while!'

     Part 10 "I'm hungry" declared Bryant and Daniel at once. "Let's go back to Chipotles! "Yay! What a great idea!" exclaimed everyone else, even the Dark Shadow. So, they all walked out the front door of the house on the Mountain, rowed back across town lake and enjoyed a delicious mexican meal at Chipotles. The end

April 2nd dream about Daddy

Loralee Ford Apr 2nd, 2016 · Branson, MO · Daddy visited me in my dreams again last night. I was in a dorm set-up and still asleep. He came into my room to get me awake because I was about to miss a Gospel Meeting or a lectureship or something. He was a little stern in the dream, but not disappointed in me or anything. I knew it was a dream though (after I awoke) cos--in it--my room was SUPER clean and organized and neat. Bwahahaha I really appreciate it when he visits me in my dreams. I miss him, so it is really nice to see him. 🙂