Author Ruth Smith Meyer

Funny Ha Ha or Funny Queer?

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 02:25:00 +0000

In my youth a friend who would ask, when someone said “That’s funny!”

“Do you mean funny ha ha or funny queer?”

Laughter is healthy and the ability to laugh at ourselves is vital to our well-being. It can say a lot about our sense of self-acceptance. But humour can also be a risky thing. What one person finds funny, to another can be plain stupid—over-the-top—or to another even offensive. A sentence or comment from one person can have us howling with laughter. The same sentence from another can feel like an insult or a put-down. From another, it may fall flat leaving listeners bored. There is such a wide variety when it comes to sense of humour.

Several years ago a co-worker and I sometimes needed to choose a video for a group to watch. We soon learned we couldn’t agree on what was funny. What I chose bored her to tears. What she chose I thought was too stupid to be funny. The thing that was really comical is that when we took turns to choose, we found some of the group appreciated her humour and some appreciated mine.

The same happens in writing humour. Don Harron as Charlie Farquharson amused many people. My first husband really enjoyed listening to him. We went once to see Don and his wife Catherine. They were quite a team, each playing several parts. We thoroughly enjoyed them and went home feeling light-hearted the way you do after a good laugh.

Then Don’s Charlie Farquharson’s Histry of Canada was published. It made a perfect gift for my husband. The first day he had it indicated what was to happen through the whole book. He sat in his chair reading and soon his shoulders began to shake, then he chuckled and chuckled some more.

Eventually he laid the book on his knee and laughed until the tears streamed down his face. When he was laughed out, he wiped his eyes, picked up the book and began to read. Soon his shoulders shook, he chuckled and chuckled some more until the book landed on his knee again while he laughed until he cried. You get the picture.

When I asked him to read the part that was so funny, he said, “It’s all funny, but it just builds up until you can’t contain the mirth.”

I couldn’t quite see how Charlie could be that much more funny in a book then on TV or at a show. So I read some. Then I saw for myself. The spelling Don used did add much to the humour. I never listened to Charlie again without envisioning the spelling of the words he voiced.

We really enjoyed Charlie’s humour, but some of our friends couldn’t have cared less.

Erma Bombeck was another writer who cheered a lot of us. Her humour was actually a lot of truth stated in ways that made us smile. For instance, House guests should be regarded as perishables: Leave them out too long and they go bad. It makes us smile because we’ve been there. Her humour was quite universal, but I’m sure there were some who didn’t find her that funny.

We have great humourists in The Word Guild. I’d love to be one of them, but much as I like a good laugh, it doesn’t seem to be one of my gifts to write it.

People are delightfully different. Humour isn’t a one size fits all. But cultivate it. It’s healthy. They say that everyone should have a good belly laugh each day to keep mentally and physically healthy. So find your type of humour and enjoy!

Words

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 00:10:00 +0000

Words have always brought me pleasure. There isn’t much greater satisfaction than to closely look at an emotion or circumstance then choose a word with the ideal nuance or shade of meaning to perfectly portray the situation. Perhaps that is why, as a teenager, I read the entire dictionary. People have teased me about that and some have even scoffed at the idea of such boring reading.

Take for instance, my delight in words, described in my first sentence as pleasure. Without hunting in my Roget's or other sources, just using the Thesaurus that comes with my Microsoft Word, I can choose the nuance I like from enjoyment, happiness, delight, joy, bliss, contentment, satisfaction, gratification; amusement, recreation, fun, leisure, diversion; desire, preference, wish, liking, inclination, will. All of these are relatively common, but can enhance your conversation or writing.

On line, yourdictionary.com provides added synonyms: felicity, rapture, ease, comfort, gladness, delectation, relish, kicks

Further explanation follows: pleasure is the general term for an agreeable feeling of satisfaction, ranging from a quiet sense of gratification to a positive sense of happiness; delight implies a high degree of obvious pleasure, openly and enthusiastically expressed a child's delight with a new toy; joy describes a keenly felt, exuberant, often demonstrative happiness their joy at his safe return; enjoyment suggests a somewhat more quiet feeling of satisfaction with that which pleases our enjoyment of the recital

Of course, as a writer, there’s practical help in a variety of words. When have need to repeat the same emotion or description several times in close proximity, choosing different words with like meaning can not only keep your writing fresh, but can add emphasis and depth to any scene or account.

Some people are especially adept at using the English language in refreshing ways. Poets are often among these, but some do so with prose. If you haven’t read Ann Voskamp’s best-selling book One Thousand Gifts or her blog Holy Experience, look for them. She is a master at phrases and descriptions that bring vivacious energy into the ordinary and routine. As an example here are a few quotes from one of Ann’s recent blogs.

“I bear the stretchmarks of my 2011.” (Doesn’t that describe a growing year?)

“There’s only one address anyone lives at and it’s always a duplex: Joy and pain always co-habit every season of life. Accept them both and keep company with the joy while the pain does its necessary renovations.” (What better advice, expressed in clear terms, could one want for the beginning of a new year? )

I encourage you to do what I want to do this year—look at my ordinary, every-day world and describe it in ways that will bring new meaning and understanding of the opportunities each moment presents. Yeah for stretch-marks and renovations!

Re-charged Consiousness

Tue, 06 Sep 2011 00:15:00 +0000

How easy it is to take life for granted and how quickly our perspective can change. The sudden death of a loved one can do that. So can a tragic accident that forever changes the abilities of an active, intelligent person. Even if it doesn’t happen to us, but is someone we know well, for awhile, we are more aware of the fragility of life and health. Earthquakes, tsunamis, memorable events like 9/11, even if they happen a half a world away, make us stop and think, “What would it be like if that happened to us?”

A few Sunday evenings ago the skies above our town churned with layers of white, black and blacker clouds. I watched from our deck as here and there, from the blacker ones, tails formed and threatened to descend. I was ready, should those funnels really get it together in earnest, to run for the basement. It wasn’t long until we heard that a tornado did touch down and wreak havoc, demolishing the centre of Goderich, less than an hour away from our home.

We have extended family members who live in that town, and we wondered if they had been affected. We later learned they were safe. Another couple we know were there with their grandchildren. Had their little granddaughter not been in such a hurry to get her promised Timbits, they may still have been down on the beach when the storm hit. As time goes on (it happens anytime there is a natural disaster) there will be many such stories of near misses or providential moves at just the right time. Those times feel like small miracles or mercies—what if we hadn’t? is often asked. For the family of the only casualty, the quandary will be “if only.”

Three days later, I sat in the basement writing this entry, because after the Goderich happening, our local station has been super-careful to keep the severe weather watch and warnings running across the bottom of the tv screen—it had been doing that all afternoon. And because of my heightened awareness of what could happen if we ignore those warnings, I chose to play it safe and do my work in the basement instead of upstairs with one eye toward the west.

With communication so advanced, we hear and see video footage of natural tragedies almost as soon as they happen all over the world. We are aware of the pain and suffering of the people involved. We let ourselves feel their pain for awhile and maybe even make a donation to help them. The closer to us, the more we become involved, the more conscious we are that it could happen to us. I used to struggle with my ability to forget so quickly. Perhaps we cannot always live in that kind of heightened awareness, but we can learn from those times.

While thinking through the happenings of the past few days, I was reminded of Mr. Simmonds who taught a few evening classes I took at Toronto Bible College many years ago. He had the class all note our greatest fear, then our assignment was to write a composition about what we would do if that happened—how we would face it and get through it. That exercise helped us, as he put it, “Turn around and face our fear instead of fleeing from it.”

That exercise assisted me many times in life, to do just that. It helped me many years later when one of those greatest fears I had noted did happen—the love of my life died. Although at the news that it probably would happen, I was tempted to flee from it, I was able to turn and face it head on. However his death had a more lasting effect. Somehow, since then, it’s easier to believe that it could happen to me or to ones I love. Rather than making me paranoid and fearful, it has done the opposite.

Although I take precautions (like sitting in the basement in threatening weather) a deep contentment and peace is present even in threatening circumstances because l know that my times are in the hands of the One who planned my life in the beginning. It’s wise to live as well as we can and take precautions, but it’s also wise to take risks if necessary. However there is only so much one can do to determine the outcome of any circumstance in life. How grateful I am that Mr. Simmonds set me on the right track so long ago.

A Legacy of Words

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 04:55:00 +0000

Our five grandchildren were ages 2 ½ -8 when my husband was diagnosed with colon cancer that had progressed too far for successful treatment. He was only sixty-three.

He had been feeling fairly well for some time after his second surgery when one day he kept going to the couch for a nap. My suspicions, aroused, I asked if he was sleeping because he was tired or if it was to avoid his thoughts.

“Probably the latter,” he admitted.

I suggested we go for a drive and talk. Driving through his favourite country-side the words tumbled from him.

“It’s not that I’m afraid to die,” he shared, “it’s just that there are so many things I still wanted do. I hate to leave you so soon, just when I thought I was going to relieve you of some of the house work so you could write. I’m proud of our grown children but I had hoped to continue to support and encourage them until they were much older. I have so many ideas for ways to spend quality time with my grandchildren as they grow up, now I will be leaving them while they are so young they may not even remember me or know how much I love them.”

The agony in his voice tore at my heart. What could I say? He was right! Then God planted a thought in my mind and I expressed it before I could give it more thought.

“You’ve learned in Marriage Encounter to write love letters to me. Even though you didn’t like to write and found it hard in the beginning, you do it beautifully now. Perhaps you’d like to write one to each of your children, in-laws and grandchildren.”

The face of the dear man I married lit up in relief and gladness. There was a ring to his voice as he said, “I believe I will do that.”

In the next week or so, he labored over the words he wrote until at last he had written all twelve letters sharing special memories of each individual. His love and delight in each of their unique characteristics, his desires and wishes for them were all expressed with love affirmation and deep longing. He asked me to type them on nice paper and together we worked at fashioning envelopes for them. At first, he thought he would let me give them to the recipients after he died, but he couldn’t wait. I’m glad he gave them for it gave the adults a chance to reply to him.

What brings all these memories to my mind now? The two youngest were just and not quite three when their grandpa died. For some time, their parents read their letters to them, but as time went by, they were stored away to be saved until they were older. As adults, we tend to think because we know and remember, the children will too. However at three, it’s hard to hang on to those details.

When the mother of one of those ‘little’ ones (now fifteen) casually mentioned the letter from grandpa, that young lady was shocked to know there was such a letter. When it couldn’t be immediately found, they asked if I still had them on my computer. I did. I read again those precious words before sending them on. The strong feelings and emotions of those days came flooding back, but something more happened. What a treasure my children and grandchildren have in those missives. Those words are a legacy that money can’t buy. Although I am still relatively healthy, I want to write letters of my own.

Expressing my love and delight in the strengths of my family and the people around me on a day-to-day basis has always been important in my mind. I want them to know while I am still living, how much they mean to me. I want also to express my encouragement and affirmations. However, there is something about the written word that seems more lasting. Some spoken words linger on in our minds, but if we can go back and read again what someone has told us, in their own words, it can be refreshing and sustaining each time we do so.

Authors and readers who reade this blog know the power of the written word. Articles and books are also a legacy but may I suggest we all take the time to write personal letters to our loved ones or people who are important to us—letters that express our love and appreciation, our positive observations about who they are and our hopes and desires for them? We may choose to keep them until someone sifts through our important papers, but it may influence lives more if we give them right away. They could be a legacy that begins to give now.

A Legacy of

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 04:55:00 +0000

Our five grandchildren were ages 2 ½ -8 when my husband was diagnosed with colon cancer that had progressed too far for successful treatment. He was only sixty-three.

“Probably the latter,” he admitted.

I suggested we go for a drive and talk. Driving through his favourite country-side the words tumbled from him.

The agony in his voice tore at my heart. What could I say? He was right! Then God planted a thought in my mind and I expressed it before I could give it more thought.

The face of the dear man I married lit up in relief and gladness. There was a ring to his voice as he said, “I believe I will do that.”

This blog is read by people who know the power of the written word. Our articles and books are also a legacy but may I suggest we all take the time to write personal letters to our loved ones or people who are important to us—letters that express our love and appreciation, our positive observations about who they are and our hopes and desires for them? We may choose to keep them until someone sifts through our important papers, but it may influence lives more if we give them right away. They could be a legacy that begins to give now.

My BE Day

Thu, 02 Jun 2011 22:14:00 +0000

After a busy three weeks, I woke on our July holiday morning with nothing urgent that needed attention. My head knew that, but my inner self was still on fast forward. I felt that my head was still at least a foot ahead of my feet and I was afraid to slow down lest I fall flat on my face.

When my husband asked if I wanted to accompany him on an hour’s drive to his daughter’s where he wanted to work on a truck he’s been restoring. My mind went into a whirl. I have writing I need to do, calls to make, catch-up from the busy schedule of the past few weeks.

My husband often tells me, “You’re retired, you know!”

I ‘m apt to jokingly reply, “If I am re-tired, that must mean I’ve been equipped with new tires, and ready to keep travelling.”

I was about to do so this morning, then I heard the echo of my first husband’s frequent observation, “You have trouble in being content to just be. You seem to feel that every moment you have to do.”

Abruptly, I hushed those voices that bid me Do, do, do! I decided on this holiday Monday that I would have a Be Day! With determination, I let go of my to-do list and turned my face the other way. I happily busied myself making a lunch for the two of us, gathered up my camera, a book to read and joined my husband.

As we drove, the glare of the computer screen I had anticipated was gently exchanged by the clouds and the sun in seeming competition to see who would win. The interaction produced beautiful light and shadow patterns on the fresh spring growth. The smell of the rain-washed earth replaced the odour of the burning-rubber of my active mind. The rolling countryside stretched out inviting my tightly focused mind to enlarge the borders of my vista, to relax and see the bigger picture.

I vacuumed the inside of the truck on which my husband was working and not only found pleasure working near him but also satisfaction in changing the appearance of the carpet. That work reminded me of the neglected corners of my life where little bits of litter gather when I am too focused on one thing. I prayed that God would help me take the time to clean out those corners.

The book I had picked up happened to be Pressing into the Thin Places, Encouraging the Heart toward God by Margaret Harrell Wills. That’s exactly what it did for me this morning. After reading awhile, I picked up my camera and strolled around the beautiful grounds and flowerbeds around our daughter’s home, capturing pictures of the beauty. There’s something about looking through a camera lens that forces one to see through different eyes. Some shots were of the larger scene, some focused on a bird house nestled among the shrubs or a single flower. Each opened a different outlook in my increasingly thankful heart.

Back on my chair, I was pleasantly interrupted to visit, first with a daughter, then with a granddaughter, both of whom have brought much joy to my life in the past few years. It was a pleasant addition to my Be Day.

The afternoon finished with my husband and I working together to build two birdhouses to add to the ones already on the property. On our drive back home, we drove through a driving rain that seemed to just finish the cleansing of my cluttered mind. At one point in that driving rain we could see the clear blue sky to the right with the sun almost peeking through the clouds.

Ah-hh, that is life. Sunshine and shadow; a time for intense focus, a time for stepping back to see the broader picture; a time for a thorough washing away of the cob webs in our brains: a time to recognize that the sun is always ready to shine through the clouds: a satisfying Be Day.

What Worship Means to Me

Tue, 19 Apr 2011 19:00:00 +0000

Worship. What does worship mean to me? Recently when I was asked to share my thoughts on that, I wondered, How can I do that in a few moments? Probably the simplest answer would be “Everything, it means everything to me, because it’s what I do when I walk close to God.”

Worship happens when we catch a glimpse of God and in response our heart bows in love and adoration—and we want to align ourselves with God’s purpose and plan.

Walking and talking with God, stopping to give thanks and allowing my heart to fill with praise and thanksgiving, to me is heart-felt worship. Pausing in the middle of difficult trials and tribulations, to acknowledge God’s love for me, to recognize that he knows the reason and what it can teach me, is worship. Letting go of my need to control and just yielding to him with thanksgiving is worship.

As a very small baby, still in the crib, I felt love and gratitude swelling in my little heart when I saw the cloud of pink and white apple blossoms in the orchard across the lane blooming above a sea of golden dandelions and accepted them as a God-sent welcome to this world. I think that was my first memory of worship although I couldn't have named it as such at the time.

When I was a little older my family gathered to sing on Sunday evenings. When they sang “My Jesus I love thee, I know thou are mine,” or “Saviour , like a shepherd lead us, much we need thy tend’rest care,” my heart was so full of love and worship the tears would flow. I wasn’t able to express it then, but I know now that it was intense love of my Savior, my Jesus and subsequent worship that filled my emotions to over-flowing. I still get that feeling sometimes in choir or as we sing together in church—and that is worship.

Later on, I marveled at God’s greatness and his goodness as I looked into my own babies’ faces and I worshiped as I felt the magnitude of His plan. I worship often when I see God in a good friend.

I am often overwhelmed with the greatness and artistry of God when I observe a sunset, or the grandeur of a mountain peak or the intricate web of a spider, or the soft, velvety petals of a rose or wild violet and I worship my Creator.

I worshipped as I sang to my husband on his death bed and accompanied him to the gates of heaven—then again as I sang to my dear mother-in-law while she lay dying, her hand in mine.

I walked through grief and loss when Norman died, and leaned on Jesus’ breast when I felt bereft. He held me close and I worshipped him. I gave thanks how he worked through my family, my in-laws and my friends as they walked with me through those months and years of grief, and I worshiped God. I walked with hesitant, cautious steps through a new life of singleness and I held his hand and worshipped him. When Paul came into my life and set my life aglow again, I looked up to the God that nudged us together, my heart filled with awe and amazement at his goodness and I worshipped him.

Much as worship is a part of my every-day, personal life, worshipping with others brings a larger panorama to worship. I remember at Mennonite World Conference, when we as a congregation of thousands sang hymns simultaneously in many languages--led by a deaf choir, it felt like a foretaste of heaven.

Perhaps the place I worship to the fullest is when I am surrounded by others who also love him, feel his presence and we worship together. That is when I feel closest to the anticipated gathering around God’s throne with his people from all the ages. There we will have all eternity to worship and praise him unfettered by our earthly limitations.

But I’m glad that I experience such a great measure of joy as I worship my God in the here and now.

Awards and Rewards

Tue, 05 Apr 2011 00:28:00 +0000

Everyone likes awards. My children must have taken after me, for although they loved sports and physical activities, they didn’t excel enough to capture any awards or anything near to it. It wasn’t for lack of trying.

Our son was born with a curved spine that cut off the strength and feeling when he put his weight on his left foot. We sought attention when he was small but were told we were over-protective parents and he would grow out of it. By the time his real problem was discovered at eleven or twelve, it had seriously affected his coordination. When his school class was given skating lessons one winter, he was far behind in every lap across the rink because he was restricted to pumping with one leg only. Instead of giving up, he asked me to make a slow-moving vehicle sign to hang on his back. He had others laughing with him instead of at him.

I always remember one of my daughters who set cross-country running as a goal for herself. She practiced faithfully in her attempts to prepare herself for the big race. I was there to cheer for her as she crossed the line in something like 45th place. I readied myself to console her and praise her for trying. I couldn’t have been more proud of her when she came panting to me, excitement and satisfaction in her tone, saying, “Mom that’s a lot better than I did last time!” Even though neither had received an award, they both obtained rewards.

When we design our resume or bio, we note our educational degrees, our accomplishments and awards in an attempt to prove our competence and that we are worthy of what we seek. It’s nice, as writers, to be recognized for our writing. We often hear how much it helps to sell books if we have one of those Award Winning stickers to put on the covers of our books. If we want to continue writing, those can be helpful, for it is necessary to sell books, especially if we want to earn our bread and butter that way.

That’s the way it is with awards.

Rewards perhaps share some of the same qualities, but there is a depth to rewards that go so much further than awards. As writers who are Christian, we are humbled and deeply thankful when we are used in helping others to find their way in life’s tests or to find God faithful in trials.

To hear that someone remembers a line or an experience about which you wrote and that it has changed their outlook or helped in challenges they face, isn’t something you can put in a resume or bio, but it is certainly rewarding.

To know that your writing has changed a person from grumbling at their lot in life to being thankful for their blessings doesn’t sell a dozen books but it is a real bonus.

To be told that a book has helped someone find their Rock in Jesus Christ, maybe doesn’t bring in the dollars, but is infinitely rewarding.

Just recently, when I was facing a personal challenge, someone quoted a line from one of my own books to encourage me! I had to smile, even while I took it to heart. It really did give clarity to my situation!

This week I received an email from a person who read an article I had published last spring. It had touched a heart long after I had expected to get any feedback, and I felt again, a sense of calling to share my stories—even those that make me vulnerable and are a little difficult to share—so that someone else can be comforted and encouraged. I felt rewarded and challenged at the same time.

Maybe that is the difference in rewards—they confirm our calling and urge us on in our ministry. “For God’s gifts and his call can never be withdrawn,” says Romans 11:29 NLT or as the Message puts it, “God's gifts and God's call are under full warranty—never canceled, never rescinded.”

So if you write, write on!

Writing, Painting and Relationships

Tue, 08 Mar 2011 18:23:00 +0000

A two week hiatus from intentional writing to get a few rooms painted seemed like a good and workable idea. Of course before the painting could begin, there was considerable clearance to be made. That included sorting. I don’t think I’m alone in the problems that arise from that task. Each item required a decision. In accordance with those “De-cluttering” TV shows, I made piles—to keep, to give away, to throw away, and a few landed on the think about it pile.

Since many of the items came with my second marriage and had no emotional attachment, it should have been simplified, but sometimes it was harder because I didn’t know why something had been saved and what meaning might be attached to it.

Eventually the time our granddaughter could help with the painting was upon us. (My writing had already been shoved aside for almost two weeks.) I moved the rest of the undecided items to a closet so the furniture could be moved to the centre of the room and the painting could begin.

Painting has always been an exciting undertaking for me. The transformation that happens within a few hours is exhilarating. Although my shoulders won’t allow me to do much of it anymore, younger arms accomplished the job and I got the same thrill of seeing the basement lose its drab blue/gray as it was warmed with the colour of Cinnamon Toast.

But something more was happening. A girl, now turned into a young woman, warmed my heart as much as the new colour warmed the room. Just seeing her take charge and work steadily and carefully yet with confidence awakened an even deeper appreciation for who she is and who she is becoming. As we worked and chatted, I could sense the maturity in her. I was thrilled in the depth of her character and insight. She even gave me good advice regarding that think about it pile, relieving me of guilt and indecisiveness. As satisfying as the changing of a room can be, the transformation, the growing and maturing of a person, the deepening of a relationship, the savouring of a friendship is much more fulfilling to the soul.

So tonight, when I realized tomorrow was my turn for The Word Guild Blog entry, my writing had to come out of hiatus. I was and am thankful for the rich relationships with which I am blessed for those relationships and my attempts to share the joy they bring, the learning they provide and knowing the One who made us for relationship is what inspires most of my writing.

Latent Capacity

Mon, 07 Feb 2011 19:07:00 +0000

In our adult Sunday school class yesterday we talked about the value of prayer. Someone asked “What exactly happens when we pray?” Saturday, I had been reading over the scripture I was to read for the service and it included Jesus’ promise that if we ask anything in his name, he would do it, so I already had been thinking about prayer and the great resource that can be to us as we face the difficulties and quandaries of life. The thoughts had been percolating in my mind even while I slept.

What exactly happens when we pray? Many answers to that question come from past experience. When we pray we connect to a power greater than we possess. When we pray, we take the focus off of our anxiety and frustration and we zero in on the one who loves us more than we can ever understand. When we pray we learn to trust. Sometimes, we are able let go of the urgency and are content to wait for the answer. That in itself can be a difficult but freeing step for one who wants to do something about it now!

Guess, though, what I found myself saying in reply to that question yesterday morning. I hadn’t even formulated it in my own mind, and I’m not sure if I have done so yet. I expect I am going to be mulling it over in my mind for some time to come. But here it is, if not in the exact words, it is the idea.

“God made me in the beginning, and he made me more complex then I have discovered even in all the years I have lived. Sometimes when I pray for strength, or wisdom, or guidance, I think in that quiet prayer-time, God just leads me in an archaeological “dig” to find what he already placed inside me. Together we find the strength, the wisdom the understanding that fits the moment—the answer to my prayer. He gently brushes off the dirt in which it has been buried, hands it to me and with a pat on my back says ‘There you go!’”

Far from putting me on an ego trip, leaving me saying, “So I have all I need within me, I don’t need God.” I am humbled to know a bit more about how God made me. That knowledge makes me even more aware of how closely I should work with my maker. Who would know better how to make something work right, how to fully utilize the inner workings and possibilities that the maker himself? To try on my own to use all that I have been given is like trying to figure out all that can be done with my computer by trial and error only. I most certainly will never find that out on my own. But if I could work closely with the maker of my Dell Laptop and with Bill Gates, for instance, I would find within its 12”x15”x 2” makeup, many applications of which I now know nothing.

Writing has been a revelation in that area. Often as I sit writing, ideas come to me and they’re formed into words as my hands operate the keyboard. Sometimes I am amazed when I read them over again. Did I really write that?

This morning, I am conscious of the need to stay in close contact with my Master so that the possibilities he placed in me can be found and released.