Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

In all times, in all places, under all sorrows and buoyed by all joys, may we be thankful for what we will be given, and be grateful to God. 30. Restoration Flowers have bloomed in the desert. Streams are flowing where the sand was dry and gray. Trees as glorious as those of any land will rise from the soil. And the toil of man together with the blessing of God will bring forth fruit. Children have sung in the place where tears were shed. The living have filled the cities that were haunted by the dead. They have tilled the earth. And voices that wept in sorrow are singing with mirth. For the people of God are returned, and the world is restored. God sees. And it will be beautiful. Thank you God.

We don't have to repeat the sins of the past. May we never forget. May we never repeat, whoever we imagine our enemies to be. May we be thankful, and, in thankfulness, be kind. 29. Fall of Hope They sat at table to eat, then some were dead and others fled. They lay in bed asleep, then some were dead and others fled. They lost their jobs and friends. Their children's playing ended. Papers were closed and meeting together forbidden. The crash of glass was windows smashed in the street. Smoke was the burning of buildings and books, and destruction of houses of worship. Screams were the voice of the people of God, crying in the wilderness. And symbols they wore were death decreed by those who should have spoken life. Then earthly strife surrenders and heaven restores. Thank you God for forgiveness and healing  and restoration.

Patience. That's something I definitely need more of. What about you? 28. Fall of the Temple Once there was a man who lost everything: his children dead; his flocks and property destroyed. And he still trusted God. Once there was a man who had nothing left but his health and he lost that too. His wife shouted, “Curse God and die,” but the man still trusted God. Once there was a man whose friends demanded he tell them what he’d done wrong. But he still trusted God. And once a great people were blessed with the T emple of God and the temple was destroyed. The people continued trusting God and God promised, He will never forget. Thank you God that you will never forget us or forsake us.

The Old Testament books are shared and beloved by those of many faiths. But what happens when the Old Testament days are done. Then Rome invades. Then cruel powers dictate. But even then, we should gather to be thankful. 26. Fall from Power "If I ask for your cloak, you give me your cloak. Okay?" the soldier demanded. The poor man nodded then shivered with cold while the soldier wrapped up his sword and marched away.  "If I tell you to carry my load, you carry my load," said the loud official. And the poor man lifted the heavy pack and walked a long slow mile without complaint.  "If I strike your face, and knock you down, you stand up again and you smile." So the poor man smiled.  The conquerors understood how to make certain the conquered knew who was in charge. Thank you God that you are in charge; when we are weak you are strong to save us.

It's so much easier to stay than to leave. Perhaps we should admire the ones who go, who try, who exit their comfort zone to find something better. 24. Rebuilding the Walls “Shall we stay? Shall we go?” The king had decreed that the people could go home. But where was home? “We have our lives here, houses, families, friends…Shall we stay? Shall we go?” The king had decreed that they could rebuild the temple to their God. The rocks would rise as walls again. The altar would stand. The sacrifice would be offered and they would be blessed. “Shall we stay? Shall we go?” And the priest decreed that they should live in tents and keep the festival; remember the past, because the Lord was their future and their home. Thank you God that you mend what is broken  and restore what is taken away.

Sometimes it's the weak and helpless who have to speak up for peace and for help. And sometimes the people we imagine to be strong are weak and helpless too. 23. Esther It was the rule. The King could not be approached unless he called for you. The King decides who the King will see. And if you disturb him you die.  "Perhaps you were placed here for this," said Mordecai, his voice resounding in Esther's head while she imagined in a moment she'd be dead. What made him so sure? How could he even know God cared any more? So Esther stood in the doorway shivering with fear, and the king turned to smile. "Esther, come here." She did not fall. The Lord had made her queen to save them all. Thank you God that every place we find ourselves  is the right place at the right time for you.

Daniel and his friends weren't celiacs like me, but God had given them lots of dietary restrictions, to keep them safe in the desert and to keep them devoted to Him. Would they stick to the rules when their captors proved generous and kind? 22. Daniel "You're lucky," said the guard, but Daniel didn't feel lucky. "You've been chosen. They're going to teach you; make something special out of you."  "You'll get the best food," he added, leading the youths to a table loaded high. Rich meats and sauces were piled on plates; loaves baked from the finest wheat; fruits stirred enticingly with honey and cream. Their mouths watered. Their stomachs ached to enjoy.  But, "No," said Daniel. "Feed us plain fruit." All his friends thought he was mad.  "Why?" they asked. "Because if we follow God's rules He will make something special out of us." Thank you God that each and ...

I'm late - I'm late - I'm catching up but I'm late. Please don't exile my blog! 21. Exile "Run to the hills!"  The city was burning. Rubble choked the streets. Black smoke soiled the air. And above it all, the Temple walls blazed red like the wrath of God. Refugees hurried in helpless lines into the desert. Gray-brown sand formed a cloud around them. Ashes fell on their heads, while their captors mocked with jangling armor and rattling sacks of Temple artifacts. "Run!" they shouted, but mothers and children were parted, brothers and sisters screaming and wailing, "Run where?" "Run away." Fierce soldiers lined the path with their spears. In the end it was easiest just to obey. Thank you God for staying with us  even when we run away.

More drabbles for thankfulness: 20. The Politician The Queen arrived in pomp and style, resting on cushions in her chamber as the ship sailed the seas. She came to port, then rode through bustling streets to the city of gold, seeking audience with the King. The King received her in pomp and style, resting on cushions in his chamber surrounded by glory. He gave her food and talked of wisdom, business, kingdoms and power. He told of sacrifice and faithfulness, and the wondrous blessings of the Lord. Sealing friendship with gifts, promising alliance, giving praise to Him who reigns, they parted then to rule their God-given domains. Thank you God for the society that surrounds us.

More drabbles for Thanksgiving and thankfulness: 19. The Musician He made music in the fields where sheep trod soft green paths on the hills of his home. He made music in the palace where the old king groaned and raged with an anger unknown. He made music in caves where soldiers sang, where walls rang out with war. And he danced his joy before the throne of God. When they brought back the ark through city streets, the king rejoiced and sang. His wife poured scorn and laughed at the scene, but David’s song was born in the heart of the Lord. The music and the psalms survive forever. Thank you God for the music  that uplifts and pleases us.

Thanksgiving is worth at least 100 words a day: 18. The King "Have you seen my father's donkeys?" the young man asked. The prophet made him sit and eat, gave him a place to sleep, then told him God's message: "You've been chosen as king." Strangers were standing by Rachel's tomb. "Have you seen the donkeys?" "Yes," said the strangers, "but they went home. Your father's looking for you." "Have you seen...?" he asked the men with three goats, three loaves and a jug of wine. They gave him bread. "Have you seen...?" He danced with the seers. "Have you seen the new king?" the people asked. The prophet showed them Saul. Thank you God for the people who lead us.

Still celebrating Thanksgiving in daily 100-word tales: 17. Gideon Enemies were all around, and the women and children were starving. Gideon hid in a wine-press to thresh wheat so his masters wouldn't see. Then a stranger appeared. "Mighty warrior," the stranger said. "Who. Me?" "The Lord is with you." "Then why doesn't he help?" "He's sending you." In the dark of night, Gideon threw down all their statues to strange deities. He sacrificed a seven-year bull on the altar of his God. "The Lord is with us," Gideon said. "Why doesn't he help?" "He's sending us." Three-hundred men—and God's right hand—went into battle and redeemed the land. Thank you God for letting us take part in your plan.

Still celebrating Thanksgiving with a month-long book of thanks... 15. Desert Days “Hold the tent-pole still.” “Steady…” “Now fasten that peg.” The frames were slowly fitted in place—purple curtains, embroidered in crimson, threaded over their poles; gold loops and bright bronze buckles shining like fire in the desert sun. And the holiest place was covered and safe, with table, lamps and altar arrayed around. They were settled again. “I’m hungry Mom.” “Don’t worry son. After the prayers, we’ll have meat.” “I’m tired Mom.” “Don’t worry son. After we’ve eaten we’ll sleep.” “I want to stay here Mom.” “Don’t worry.” But then they packed the tents away and wandered the desert again. Thank you God for your guidance.

“It’s not our way.” “New land. New ways.” So the people changed. Slowly their faith, their certainty changed; their government, their dreams, their lives, their freedoms and their hope. Strangers and enemies changed. Buildings changed; the land where they grew crops; the shape of their seas. Wrong-doing and forgiveness; wrong-thinking and war; wrong planning, believing and more. Too many wrongs don’t make a right, and might’s not right either. But in the end, they were all changed. Their faith, their certainty, their government—their dreams, lives, freedoms, even hope—they learned to share. So Plymouth grew, and Mayflower’s remembered there.

They sat in their fortress and planned. They made their alliances, tribesman to tribe, future promise to weigh against pain. Then fire from the sky drenched their village in flames, flowing blood quenched the blaze, and bullets and knives wrenched their lives and their families’ away. Men women and infants all killed on one day, in one battle, at Mystic River. “It’s not our way.” “Too many slain.” “No bravery or honor in this.” “Too furious.” But it was the way of that land far away, and the victors gave praise, sang their bliss, and prayed “Thanks be to God.”

“The land is the land’s; it’s not ours to divide; not ours to say who lives or dies.” “Still, so many have died...” “…leaving space for us all, and the white man has paid with his beads, coats and shovels and spades…” “…shoes, a pot, and some cloth for a robe with fur sleeves...” Those who paid for the land, that still wasn’t theirs, sold it on, growing rich on the spoil. Those who sold squeezed their people to forest and shore, rich in beads while their tribesmen grew poor, while they toiled to survive on that portion unfairly divided.

“They’ve given us a garden my dear.” “Given a what?” “A whole plot, all our own.” The husband led his wife out of town, to the place where his field was assigned. “We’ll grow corn,” he promised. “Keep chickens and pigs and eat eggs,” though by we he meant she. The boy said “We used to have cows back in England.” “I know,” said his Dad. “And if any arrive on the boat then maybe we’ll buy one.” “How?” Mother frowned. “Well, they’ve given us a garden my dear. You grow things and sell them and I’ll buy the cow.”

A wise man said, “Once blood is shed it’s seldom staunched,” except by length of war. "If only you’d converted them before," he said, but time for talking done, they set their enemy’s head up on a stalk and praised the day. The wise man said, “More glorious in men’s eyes than pleasing God’s” is the spreading of fear. Then nations split, alliances changed, and curious flag was raised, held strangely dear. Not red and white against the clear blue sky but cream stained brown; the cloth that bore the enemy’s head proclaimed the enemy’s fate. Peace lay down dead.

Windows were parchment and linseed, walls wattle and daub, and roofs made of reeds; not really home. Stockades dripped sap, tree-bark peeled back, and cannon stood on guard upon the hill. Men guarded too, the ones that weren’t already starved and gone. Cold breezes dripped, war sipping on the wind. The steady drip of fear led to despair, and dripping hunger to their flight elsewhere. The ice dripped too. But drips of lies from scheming spies brought threats to cruel truth. A woman’s face, dark epigraph carved deep on Indian knife, dripped hard-earned tears from blood-stained eyes. The Indian died.

What’s a man to choose? You can dig in the sand and find clams and call them food but you’ll still go hungry. You can steal the corn that Indians seal away and pretend it’s okay. You can beg them to teach you to fish and they’ll make you a slave but at least you’ll be fed. So what do you do? They knock the sand-filled clam-shells from your hand and mock and scorn. Will you ignore their taunts and wait to eat? Sneak into their stores and steal? Or beg for help and admit they know better than you?