I am a Christian, a retired teacher, a mother and a grandmother. I love to read and I love the Lord Jesus Christ! Unless otherwise specified ,all visual illustrations are from the YOU VERSION APP of the Bible.
Ah! The official beginning of summer, beach traffic and tanning season! But, Memorial Day is much more. Just a reminder that many gave their all so that we can have the freedom that we cherish today. Let us pause from our celebrations, picnics, cookouts and family time to remember their sacrifice and to be thankful that they were willing to die for their nation.
“It is, in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away. The imagination plays a trick. We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired. But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives — the one they were living and the one they would have lived. When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for our country, for us. And all we can do is remember.” Ronald Reagan 🇺🇸
I really dislike when I am in a public place and someone starts berating another person, giving them a hard time loudly enough that those around them cannot help but overhear. I would like to think that the person berating the other one apologizes later and the rift that occurred gets healed. I’m not sure that is always the case though, and that saddens me. A heart was hurt that could have been encouraged. In teaching high school students for many years, it was a common sight to see the kids “dis” each other. When I would say something about it, the reply was inevitably that they were just jokin’ or kiddin’ around. I generally tried to remind them that the heart is not something that is easily mended but it is easily broken. Some were open and either did not criticize their peers in front of me or they dropped the habit. I would like to hope for the latter.
In this day and age when everyone has an opinion that they want to share with you, it is refreshing to hear kind words. Even when they are not addressed to me, I love to hear them. It stirs something deep within me to hear a wife say that she loves the tie her husband chose or that his new pants fit him well. I enjoy hearing parents tell their children what a good job they did listening and paying attention. I am often sitting quietly in church as I wait for the service to start and it’s heartwarming to see most of the interactions. Kindness is abundant and cheerfulness is apparent. I wish that this attitude would go out the church doors with everyone and into the grocery stores, the restaurants and other public places. Kind words are not just needed in church; they are needed everywhere, at all times. Our words matter and kindness counts, when we least expect it and in ways that we can only imagine. In a busy and hurrying world, take time to be kind and watch faces smile and hearts cheer up!
God showers us with blessings and sometimes in our ignorance of what He is doing, we put up an umbrella or run for shelter. Instead, we need to be in touch with what God’s plan is and accept the kindness, wisdom and understanding that He is giving us. Stand under the shower, don’t run away from it!
Just when I was beginning to think that I was on the mountaintop, looking down into the valleys of all my trials and worries, a new medical test comes along, and boom! There I am, calling out to God for help to get through this one. I awakened a lot during the night, knowing that my EMG is early this morning. Each time, God would bring a praise song to my mind and I would drift back to sleep. It doesn’t help my state of mind that I have had this test before, know that it’s uncomfortable and takes about an hour of pins and electric shocks, simultaneously. Nevertheless, I am trusting God to get me through it without tears of anguish and frustration. The last time I had the test was over eight years ago, after my stroke, so I don’t recall a lot, just the pain and the feeling that it was taking a long time. I think a “long time” is relative when you are in pain that is being dealt out by a machine in the hands of a technician who gently says that it will be slightly uncomfortable. But, just as God has been with me through all the other tests, He will walk with me through this one, too. It reminds me of the wilderness experience of the Israelites. God took them through the wilderness, not around it. So, through this trial I go and I am confident that I will come out the other side, more compassionate for others going through tedious and painful medical procedures.
Fixing my thoughts on God helped me sleep during the night, so I know that fixing my thoughts on Him will help me get through the pain of electricity coursing through my body. Honestly, childbirth does hurt more, so there is that. And I know that my Lamaze breathing helped the last time I had the test done, so I will take deep breaths and with each inhale, I will say a prayer of thanksgiving that I am able to have the test done and a prayer that the test will show what the doctors need to know.
I think that peace comes as a result of prayers, so I am wearing my full armor today, including the shoes on my feet that come from the peace of God’s Good News. As He continues to remind me, nothing will happen to me today that He and I cannot handle together!
Generosity is, of course, associated with giving. And most people then go on to assume that giving has to be money. But that is not an accurate assumption. God has given us many talents and brings them to the forefront when we become Christians. I think the Lord does that because He wants us to use our strengths, our talents if you will, to serve others. I may not (and I don’t) have a lot of money. But what I do have is a love of God to share with others. I have a talent for teaching, so working with children in Children’s Church is a good fit for me. Sometimes, I have to step out of my comfort zone to share something the Lord has shown me to others. But I am called to tell, not to remain silent. So, generosity takes the form of whatever you have to share. For my husband, it is his bountiful harvest of vegetables, especially tomatoes. He also shares his gift of growing things with me as he has planted a gorgeous flower garden outside my window in the den. He takes vegetables to our church group to share and to our children when we visit them. He shares his love for the earth and all it produces when we visit our daughter and he spends long hours tilling, planting and fencing in the garden for her. That is what I mean by active generosity. When the grandchildren look out the window and see Grandpa lying on the ground putting tiny seeds in rows, they are amazed that he spends hours scooting along the ground to plant. Then, many months later, they enjoy the peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes he planted for them. His diligence is rewarded with fruit that he never sees or tastes, but he knows that he has left behind food for a family that we love dearly.
My husband with his last harvest of peas. First year he has successfully grown them! The rose bush my husband planted in the garden just outside my window.Harry planting a garden in MD with the grandchildren, showing them how to plant, add black plastic and water. They really enjoyed the tomatoes and cucumbers as well as the blueberries that they planted with Grandpa on the “hill.”
As you think about this Scripture, think about ways you can be generous. What legacy can you leave behind that is not money? We have so many good things that Jesus has given us…let’s share them with others.
Have you ever had to go on a long trip and the person at the other end generously offered to meet you halfway? I did that when I was a teen and going to visit my aunt in North Carolina. And I am doing it in the present time in order to visit my sister who moved to NC last year. My niece meets me and my husband half way, making the trip less arduous for us.
But, did you know that God meets you right where you are? You don’t even have to go halfway! When the Israelites were wandering around in the wilderness, God was right there with them, leading the way in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. When they built a tabernacle according to what the Lord told them to do, God inhabited it. When Moses visited God there, his face shone with God’s glory. Then, Solomon built the Temple and God was right there, His presence with His people. So, where is God meeting us today?
We are His temple, so He is right here with us always. He gives us His Holy Spirit who dwells in us from the moment that we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior. The Holy Spirit gives us the power we need to be witnesses for the Lord, to face the challenges of daily life and to live a life that honors God. We don’t have to look for God…He is right here inside us. That boggles my mind, and I confess that I don’t totally understand this truth, but I do know that it’s true. I only breathe a prayer about needing comfort or assurance and God is right there. He helps me to help others because I am part of His plan to spread the Good News to mankind. If you are a Christian, you, too, are part of God’s plan and you, too, are His temple on earth until Jesus returns. No more wandering in the wilderness or building huge, fancy buildings. God’s pinnacle of creation was each of us, and we need to do the jobs He left us to do and recognize the power He left for each of us to tap into in order to fulfill His desires for ourselves and others.
As a therapy exercise, a woman writes a list of people she wants to forgive, and thinks nothing of it when she loses it in an Uber…until one by one the people on the list become victims of freak accidents. Set in Portland, Maine, Hannah Mary McKinnon’s breakout suspense novel THE REVENGE LIST will appeal to fans of Lisa Unger, Joshilyn Jackson, and Tarryn Fisher.
Following an epic run-in with a client who threatened to pull out of a contract at her father’s company if she doesn’t suffer some consequences, Frankie Morgan agrees to go to anger management. With the business struggling with cash-flow and her brother needing help with the medical bills for his sick daughter, she can’t risk harming the business further. But that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy about attending.
During the first session, the group is asked to spend some quiet time exploring their pasts and sitting with the emotions that generates, before making a start on a Forgiveness List—a list of people with whom they’re angry and might work on forgiving. She begrudgingly goes along with it and doesn’t worry too much when she forgets the list in an Uber on her way home. It shouldn’t matter—it was just a therapy exercise—except a few days later the first person on that list is injured in a freak accident. When the second person gets hurt, she hopes it’s coincidence. After the third is targeted, she knows it’s a pattern. And she’s in trouble. Because the next name on that list is…hers.
My Thoughts:
This book is a delightfully propulsive thriller as well as a fascinating character study that is cleverly layered into the plot. Frankie Morgan is a complex character, a motherless young woman who is still dealing with her loss while also trying to carve out her future in her father’s construction business. Unfortunately, she is also a very angry and bitter young woman whose mouth and actions get her into trouble with her father who coerces her into joining an anger management class. The class seems to be a good place for Frankie to start dealing with her issues, but instead it creates more problems for her. One of her class assignments was to create a list of people that she needs to forgive. When an unknown person gets hold of her list, the fallout is obvious because the people who hurt Frankie are now on some kind of revenge list and keep falling prey to“accidents.” Frankie, ever the conscientious daughter, notices what is happening and is determined to find out who took her list and is using it to avenge her, without her approval. The plot is complicated, twisted and filled with suspense. There are tons or red herrings since the story is expertly crafted to keep you reading and totally engaged. This book is addictive and is a terrifyingly brilliant as Frankie is led from one possible suspect to another and the intrigue just gets more intense. I thoroughly enjoyed the multi-layered and well-crafted plot, but the surprise ending was worth reading this unputdownable and fast-moving suspense. Fans of page turners that are edgy and crackling with tension will enjoy this book, especially getting to know the dynamic characters who are realistically flawed and relatable. Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
A definite PG due to content
About the Author:
Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in the UK, grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. After a successful career in recruitment, she quit the corporate world in favor of writing. She now lives in Oakville, Ontario, with her husband and three sons, and is delighted by her twenty-second commute. Connect with her on Facebook, on Twitter @HannahMMcKinnon, and on Instagram @HannahMaryMcKinnon. For more, visit her website, http://www.hannahmarymckinnon.com.
The sharp sound of a high-pitched scream filled the air. A noise so unrecognizable, at first I didn’t register it had come from deep within me, traveling up my throat in stealth mode before bursting from my mouth.
The remnants of the yell reverberated around the car, forcing their way into my ears and penetrating my skull, urging me to do something. Survival instincts kicked in, and I fumbled with the seatbelt, my other hand grasping for the door handle. The need for the relative safety that solid, stationary ground would bring was so intense it made my stomach heave. A loud click of the central locking system meant my captor had outsmarted me again, obliterating my immediate plan to throw myself from the moving vehicle.
When I looked out the windshield, I knew there was no time to find an alternate escape. The end of the road—the edge of the cliff—announced by signs and broken red-and-white-striped wooden barricades, had been far enough away seconds ago but now gleamed in the car’s headlights, a looming warning yards ahead. I couldn’t comprehend what was about to happen, couldn’t do anything as the vehicle kept going, splintering planks and racing out the other side with nothing but air below. I let out another scream, far louder than my first, the absolute terror exploding from my lungs.
For the briefest of moments, we were suspended, as if this was a magic trick or an elaborate roller coaster. Perhaps, if I were really lucky, this was all a dream. Except I already knew there were no smoke and mirrors, no swirling track leading us through loop-the-loops and to safety. It wasn’t a nightmare I’d wake from with bedsheets wrapped around my sweaty body. This was happening. It was all terrifyingly real.
As the car continued its trajectory, it tipped forward. The only thing to stop our momentum was whatever we were rushing toward, obscured by the cloudy night skies. Pushing my heels into the floor, I tried to flatten my shoulders against the seat. My hands scrambled for the ceiling to brace myself, but I flopped like a rag doll, my loosened seatbelt tearing into my shoulder.
They say your life flashes before you when you’re close to death. That didn’t happen to me. Instead, it was all my regrets. Choices I’d made. Not made. Things I’d said and done. Not said. Not done. It was far too late to make amends. There would be no opportunity to beg anyone for forgiveness. No possibility of offering some.
As the finality of the situation hit me full on, I turned my head. The features of the driver next to me were illuminated in a blueish glint from the dashboard lights. His face had set in a stony grimace; his jaw clenched so tight he had to have shattered teeth. But what frightened me the most were his eyes, filled with what could only be described as maniacal delight.
He’d said we were both going to die. As the car hurtled to the bottom of the cliff, I closed my eyes and accepted he was right.
When I was small, my grandmother used to complain a lot. I mean, a lot! She was the one that if it was a sunny day, she would look for clouds. Nevertheless, she used to tell me a lot that I should count my blessings. Now, I seldom attended church when I was young. My mom took us on special days like Easter, but otherwise, Sunday was just another day of the week for me until I met my new neighbor Sharon and she started inviting me to go to church with them. I enjoyed the Sunday school classes and the way the church service followed the same pattern week after week. That is the first time I heard about God and I was in my teens. But I still didn’t know what it means to count my blessings as my grandmother had told me to do.
When I went to college, I was busy, overwhelmed really with new things. I was away from home for the first time and got involved in my studies and my campus job. I dated some, but not much because I was really shy. I didn’t attend church, but I was aware that God was around somewhere because my roommate attended church regularly and seemed to like going. Again, I don’t recall counting blessings. I was more likely to count the days until I had an exam or a break at home.
It was after I finished college and started my first job that I began to see how alone I was and was feeling discouraged, even though I had a new fiancé and a new job and my own place to live. When my apartment neighbor introduced me to Jesus, I began to see that He was what I needed all along. Finally, finally, I began to count my blessings! The blessing of being loved by a good man, the blessing of finding a good church and making new friends, the blessing of having a neighbor who befriended me. I was beginning to understand what my grandmother was telling me. Life is hard and throws some real curve balls sometimes, but God is always good and you can always look for the blessings and find them.
Now that I am much older, I see blessings everywhere. I see them in the garden outside my window, in the beautiful sunrise and sunset, in the faces of my children and grandchildren, in my husband’s patience with me. The list goes on and on. There isn’t enough time to enumerate all of my blessings, but God continues to bless me, every day in more ways than I can imagine.
I don’t know why my grandmother complained so much, but I do know that somewhere inside her, she recognized that all the good in her life came from God. She told me to count my blessings and that advice has remained steadfast in my heart for over six decades now. I think of nanny and I smile, knowing that she loved me enough to tell me a truth about life. When you are busy counting your blessings, you don’t have time to complain!
I think that God speaks to His people. Perhaps His words are not audible, but His message is. For me, He speaks to my heart when I am sitting quietly, especially when I need comfort or encouragement. He speaks through the words in the Holy Bible and He speaks to me through praise music that I have heard and that is in my heart. He tells me about His love for me and consistently tells me that all will be okay.
I was in the office of my retina eye specialist on Friday, waiting for his diagnosis of how the macular degeneration that started last year is my left eye is progressing. I confess that I was feeling anxious about what he would tell me, so I started to pray and asked for God to be very near me no matter what the diagnosis was. Then, a song came to my mind that I had not sung or heard in a very long time. “Thank you, Lord, for saving me.” From that song, I started singing to myself, “How Great Is Our God.” Those songs calmed my fears and helped me to put everything into God’s very capable hands. He spoke “peace” to my heart through songs from many years ago. I recognized that it was God speaking to me and thanked Him for His love and the calm spirit with which He filled me. When the doctor came in, I was expecting bad news, but the news was good. No change in my eyes at all! The macular is still only a trace in my left eye and nothing in my right eye. Good news, even after all the fear and anxiety that seemed to be preparing me for the worst. God was preparing me for the best news and giving me worship songs to Him before I even had the report from the doctor!
This morning during my worship and devotional time, I was reminded that God used to walk and talk with Adam and Eve. It was a common thing for them before their exile from the Garden. One of the consequences of their sin was separation from God. Jesus gave us the path back to God and a relationship with Him, but because of the fall of mankind, we have to listen carefully to hear God speak and to be ready for Him messages to us.
When Samuel was only a small child, the Lord audibly called to him. His reply should be what our response is to God every day. We have to be ready to listen in order for God to speak to us. Sometimes we are so busy, with lives cluttered with busyness, that we may be vaguely aware that God is saying something to direct us. But we are so focused, so intent on doing what we want to do, that we don’t pay attention and miss the opportunity to hear God’s instructions for us. It would be good for each of us to just sit quietly for a while each day and tell God to speak because we are listening. Not too busy. Not too distracted. Just ready to listen to our Creator and our Father, the One who will guide our steps if we will take time to listen and then follow His words to us.
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 