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.

Does the world ever change? Or do laborers still get blown up in their fields, women get shot as they stand in the kitchen, children die at play and priests at prayer? Thankfully, God never changes either, and He's still there to save us - and to save "them." 27. Fall of the City The laborers worked the fields, tilling the ground, and guarding the flocks. In a moment, some were dead and others fled. The women stood at the wheel in conversation, grinding flour. In a moment, some were dead and others fled. The children were playing, the singers making music, the priests at prayer, and no one seemed afraid. But suddenly the soldiers came, wrecking the houses and tearing the temple down, not a stone left standing. Then nothing was left but rubble thrown on the ground. The survivors looked out from their caves in the hills, crying their prayers to God. Thank you God that nothing can separate us from you.

Okay, it's not really Hanukkah today, but it's the 25th of the month of Thanksgiving, so it's not entirely inappropriate. 25. Hanukkah! How do you rebuild what is broken and dirtied and destroyed? Where do you begin? They ripped out the altar and built it anew. They set new stones to reform the walls and cleansed the undergrowth that had wrecked the pavement. They brought back the lamp and incense and table and laid them in their proper place. And they prepared the sacrifice. But all their labors were in vain; there was scarcely oil even to light the lamp. How do you rebuild? You pray to God. Then the teaspoon of oil lasted eight days long and the Temple was restored. Thank you God for the festivals  that bring us back to you.

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 of drabbles: 16. Jericho Land of the enemy--land of plenty; hand of the adversary--hand of God. "They can't win," said the leader. "Our walls are solid. We have water and stores. We can wait them out." All the same, he sent guards to the battlements to keep watch. "Don't waste ammunition. Just observe, and if they attack we'll send them packing." So they looked on while strangers in royal garb carried a treasure chest around the walls. Marching, sounding trumpets, nothing more. "They're crazy!" But they weren't. On the seventh day, the walls of the city fell down. This land was God's. Thank you God for your faithfulness.

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.

I’ve set the time. Just bring one thing back, just one iota of proof. That’s all I need. I’ve set the place, just needs a little refinement. I’ve set the carrier wave to bring me home. I open the box. “Mom, where’s Daddy gone?” says Sam. Didn’t it work? “I don’t know. That’s strange.” Can’t they see? “I’m here,” I try to shout with my silent voice, plastic face all frozen and still. I’m here beside the manger with ragged robes and a box in my hand—a cross between a shepherd and a king. And there’s no going back.

Peter’s so possessive about his stuff. He’s got this box he brought home from work and no-one’s allowed to touch it. But Sam hid it in his pocket before church. He’s pulling off the ribbons now, face so intent. I lean over his shoulder—just to peak. It’s empty. Church is going overboard on incense these days. It stinks. Then I hear an animal noise, see a camel, and look up into the face of a king. What’s going on here? Choir’s still singing. I hear Peter’s voice, “I thought I told you…” and I’m beside him in church again.

Daddy said “Don’t open the box,” but it’s Christmas. Who doesn’t open stuff at Christmas-time? When Dad’s not looking I pull on the ribbon and climb inside my spaceship, rattling, shaking its way to the stars. But I don’t know why it lands me on a freezing cold hillside. Sheep bleat miserably and Christmas tree fairies sing carols out of tune. A boy tugs my arm, shouting, “Hurry! Come and see.” Then my Dad takes the box away from me. “I thought I told you…” I open my eyes to Sunday’s choir and church. But how? What’s in the box?

Emily gave names to her apple trees. “Lady Alice” had fruit peach-colored and sweet, blushing redly under the sun. “Uncle Tom” bore a crop with tiny red specks like dust. “Peter Piper’s” crop were tiny and green, slightly sour with sugar behind. And “Spiderman” bore juicy globes knit together by spiders in the night. They must have liked the taste. They had real names, but all Emily knew was they bore sweet fruit like none she could find in stores. When she talked to them, her neighbors called her a witch. But they don’t burn witches anymore, just apple trees.

Sometimes the weather surprises you. The prophet said the river would be poison, but nobody cared until the fish all died. He warned us “Frogs” but we didn’t realize—without fish they got everywhere. Then they died too; didn’t eat the flies, so the flies ate us instead. But it wasn’t our fault. A storm tore up the crops; locusts ate the rest; then the sky turned black. But things like that, they really can’t be predicted. We planned a party, made yummy cakes but the guys that ate them died. Too late, we ran the prophet out of town.