The Shell

 The Shell

It was a beautiful sunny day. I was 12 years old and my sister and I had rode out with Aunt Amy to Papa and Grandma Horne’s fish camp. They had a plain cabin sitting near the Satilla River in South Georgia. Along the river were live oak trees and cypress trees. It was a beautiful sight with the tree branches hanging over the water. Uncles and Aunts and cousins were also there.

The men would go out on the river in jon boats to fish. They were gone for a few hours. It seemed like it was leisure to them. When they came back they would clean the fish. Afterwards, Grandma would fry the fish. She had already cooked other foods like fried venison, flapjacks, cornbread, biscuits, collard greens, grits and probably other dishes. She always had sweet tea made as well. The cousins would be playing while the Aunts and my Grandma talked and visited. 

I loved listening to the grown ups talk. Sitting to myself, I could take in a lot of conversation but not really have anything to say. I was really delighted when Aunt Amy talked so much to me. I didn’t know her very well because she and my uncle were young newlyweds. We walked outside up the long, sandy lane. I remember feeling important and like-able to her. Aunt Amy was sweet and told funny stories too. 

As we were coming back to the camp house, my eye caught something in the sand. It was a shell the color of the sand. Sandy colored hiding in the sand, but shiny and smooth. I was so happy to find such a treasure! I picked it up and brushed it off. It was so beautiful to me and I was going to take it home for my own. I wondered how the shell got there since we weren’t at a beach. 

When we got back to the camp house I showed Grandma the shell I found. She said that other shells had been found there but not one as pretty as this one. Then she said, “I better keep it so it won’t get lost.” She went to place it on a shelf. I’m sure I must have looked at her hurt, not understanding why she thought I’d lose it. Next thing I knew Aunt Amy protested to Grandma for me. She said, “But Tanya found the shell and she won’t lose it. Let her keep it.” I was so happy Aunt Amy took up for me and believed I could keep it without losing it!😊 I kept the beautiful, shiny shell with me and took very good care of it! 

When I brought my shell home, I kept it very carefully in a special place. I might have changed places where I’d keep the shell but I always knew where it was at. I’d take it from its place and remember again how priceless my shell was to me. Yes it’s a beautiful shell to me but more so it reminded me of that lovely day when someone showed an interest in me and took up for me. 

At my high school graduation I was given a small cedar box as a gift. I kept my shell in that box along with a few other treasures. I hadn’t seen Aunt Amy in years because she and my uncle were married only for a year or so. I wondered how she was doing in life. 

I did get to see her years later…..

I was married to Ted, and had our first son Jed.  We were invited to my cousin’s wedding and I went bringing Jed with me. The wedding was nice, but small, out by a river, on a covered dock. There was Amy with a toddler son! I was excited to see her but couldn’t say anything til after the wedding was finished . Afterwards I did say hi. She looked at me but with no smile. I didn’t know if she remembered me so I told her who I was. She straightly said she remembers me but didn’t smile. That was all. A little while later Amy’s little son was playing with her keys. I remember being afraid he was going to throw the keys into the water. Plop!!! That’s exactly what he did!  Amy was stressed and aggravated. A boy offered to get into the water and find the keys. He got in the water, and searched around feeling on the bottom of the shallow water until he found Amy’s keys. She was so relieved! And I was relieved for her. 

It seems like I could have been hurt at Amy because she wasn’t nice to me that day, but  I just couldn’t be. There was so much I had learned from her back on that day at the fish camp when I was a girl. She helped me to feel worth and gain a little confidence. Not in a prideful way, but in a way that made me want to pass it along to others. Especially others who needed a friend. The shell reminds me that each person has worth and that Jesus is no respecter of persons. He loves each one of us (YOU!😊) with an everlasting love. He has given His life for us so that we can live unto Him. It’s a life of worth and purpose. 

”He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.“

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭91‬:‭4‬ ‭KJV‬‬

David and his armor

(Here are some musings from me……)

Staying in our Christ given lane….

We are admonished in first Thessalonians 5:21 to “prove all things; hold fast that which is good”. 

Christian life is a blessing……and sometimes challenging. 

We all have our thoughts and opinions. We have convictions and sometimes it’s hard to understand why others don’t think the same way. I get it. If I love Jesus and want to do what He says then why don’t others do the same?  

However, in circumstances of preference or freedom in Christ, embarking on a holy crusade to convert everyone else to our way of thinking will never end the way we hope. Even if we do win over a few “disciples”, unless our goal is to point them to their identity in Christ, the “conversion” will be a shallow one indeed.

I don’t believe God made us to think exactly the same. He wants us to follow Him and focus on Him. Read His word for ourselves; pray and ask for His wisdom for what His word means. Jesus wants us to depend upon Him. 

It’s like when David went to tell Saul he is going to fight the giant Goliath. All David had was his sling and small stones. Saul meant well and gave David his best armor. He wanted David to have a chance at surviving the fight with Goliath! David tried the armor on but it was bulky and got in his way. It was awkward and David didn’t know what to do with it. David told Saul that God had saved him from the bear and the lion and that God will save him from Goliath the Philistine. He took off Saul’s armor and you know the rest of the story. Because David trusted in God, he triumphed over that giant Philistine. 

So it is in our Christian life. We cannot live on another’s faith. If we try, it will end in frustration.

We will not even know WHY we are doing what we are doing or not doing. It will be mechanical with no real life flowing from Jesus. 

Jesus is still the WAY, the TRUTH, and the LIFE!

My Experience with The Budget 📰🗞️

My Experience with The Budget 📰🗞️

I’ll never forget the time I wrote in the Budget………

Ted and I plus our little son Jed were attending a Mennonite church in GA. We were learning a lot about how Mennonites live, and enjoying knowing our new friends there. They were such warm and caring friends, ready to help take on jobs that were open to fill. One of those jobs was writing for the Mennonite/ Amish newspaper called “The Budget”. 

“The Budget” consists mainly of columns written and sent in by scribes in various Mennonite and Amish communities all around the world. The Budget scribes document community events such as baptisms, weddings, births and funerals, as well as information on church attendance, visitors, weather, accidents or illnesses, agricultural happenings, special church and school events. It is similar to a collection of circle letters allowing folks to keep up with friends and relatives who live in far away communities. 

My friend Ruth was, at that time, writing for The Budget about the news of the Mennonite church and people there. She would let me read her copy of the weekly Budget newspaper and tell me interesting tidbits of different communities and people. It was intriguing to me and I enjoyed reading parts of it. 

After some time, it was announced at church that it was time for another scribe to take a turn writing for The Budget. No one volunteered right away which seemed unusual. My voice then softly squeaked out that I could do it. Most everyone looked over at me and seemed willing to let me try.  

I wasn’t sure what I had gotten myself into. I liked to write letters to friends but I’d never written anything of this sort. Not only that, I did not grow up in Mennonite or Amish communities. 

I started writing my first post by saying who I was, where I came from, and about our little family. I also wrote about when I was born again at 13, and some about when we met Mennonites, when Ted and I were newlyweds. I liked details so I wrote plenty of them! I’m not sure that was always a good idea!🫢

Next, I wrote about the events going on at our church, and special services. Things were written about the church school and about students graduating. More was written about visitors coming to church or a family gone on vacation, or to  a wedding or funeral. 

This scribe also wrote about families in the “family way”….. Mrs. So and so is expecting a baby in November! Mr and Mrs have 3 other children. Also written was an announcement of when Mr and Mrs So and so’s baby was born, name, weight, etc. I was really enjoying this new position of scribe for our community! 😊

Well one day I found in my mailbox a package from someone I did not know. It was addressed to me. I opened it to find a lengthy letter and a couple of books. The letter was from an older man from KY, I believe. He had read my epistles in “The Budget”. He wondered if I was REALLY born again. He had questions about what I had written. One of the books he sent was called “ No Graven Image “. It was like no other book I’d ever seen before. Very plain and to the point. It talked about pictures being a graven image and that God was against them. After reading some of the book, I admit I was kinda scared about it all. I took the package to my friends who were also our neighbors. They said “oh this is nothing to worry about!” “There are many different kinds of Mennonites and this group doesn’t believe you can have pictures of your family.” My friends assured me I was doing a fine job as scribe. Well that was a relief! I kept writing and sending my epistles to The Budget. 

In another day’s mail I received a letter from “THE BUDGET”…….. Hmmm….. I opened and read the note. The kind person told me I was doing a good job but there are some things that are not appropriate to be written about; they are taboo. See, in Amish communities they don’t talk ever about a woman expecting a baby. They wait until after the baby is born to say anything. Seems like there were a couple other things I had to be careful about but I don’t remember what it was now. I was put “on trial” for a time, but continued writing until it was time for a new scribe. The realization that I grew up so differently than their culture helped make it easy to keep on writing in “The Budget”.     I learned quite a bit about Mennonite and Amish culture through that time. I wonder if I was the only scribe for the Budget who was not born into a Mennonite or Amish community? I’ll probably never know, but I’m thankful for the time I was a scribe on behalf of our little community . 😊

Mrs Parker’s school bus

 

I saw a post that had a picture of an old school bus overgrown with vines. The following quote was with the picture post….

“We’re going to sit here until all of you settle down, and I don’t care how long it takes!”

I had to laugh when I saw that because it meant something to me. It brought to memory my school bus driver Mrs Parker, and an experience I have remembered for all my life since.

Each school morning by 6:30am or so I would be ready to get on the school bus. Watching out my front living room window, I could see when the big yellow bus was coming. As soon as I was coming out the front door, the big bus stopped and the double doors would squeak open. I would step up the two big steps into the bus and look at Mrs Parker. I was kind of scared of her. I didn’t know if she would say anything or not. She would sometimes say something quick like “good morning “ but not always. As soon as I started down the aisle, Mrs Parker would zoom on towards the next bus stop. I would hold onto seats until I sat down . She was a no-nonsense kind of person. I don’t remember that she ever smiled, but I didn’t think of her as mean; just grumpy. I’m sure she just felt the need to keep order on the bus. When there’s around 40 or so children on one bus you can imagine how it could be. 

The morning rides to school were usually quiet with just some talking going on. Mrs Parker pulled the bus up to the curb at school to let us off and the day at school started. At 3pm the bus would be waiting to pick us up and then the route was started to take us all home. It just wasn’t quiet like the morning ride. 

 Someone would do something that Mrs Parker felt she needed to yell about. I could see her stern eyes looking into the rear view mirror. “Boys!!! Put the paper airplanes away!!!” The boys put the planes away but then they would tease each other and cause a ruckus until …….all of a sudden our school bus pulled over to a sudden stop! Mrs Parker yelled “ We are going to sit here until you settle down and I don’t care how long it takes!!” She meant that too! Sometimes she stood up and reprimanded whoever was responsible for the chaos and made one of the wild ones sit on the front seat. Eventually, we’d be on our way again but with a quieter bus ride. I never wanted to get on Mrs Parker’s bad side. 

I rode on Mrs Parker’s bus for several years. Even into high school. I lived in a community called Browntown and Mrs Parker would pick up all the children going to the same school. Some were my cousins and some were friends and some I really didn’t know. For some reason Mrs Parker seemed to be kind of nice to me. She even seemed to start smiling at me just a little. That is until the last day of school in 9th grade. 

That last day of school was a good day. Summer was here and I looked forward to my summer break. Most everyone had classmates and friends to say goodbye to. I enjoyed telling my friends goodbye and we promised we’d see each other in the next school year. Some students brought shaving cream to school to use for pranks. They would spray each other or spray lockers, door knobs, etc. One girl that I knew came up to me and asked if I’d take the shaving cream home that she brought. I mentioned that she should just throw it away but, for some reason, she thought she would get in trouble. I reluctantly took it and put it in my backpack. I figured I’d throw it away at home or give it to my dad (like he would really want someone else’s used shaving cream!🫣). I felt like I shouldn’t take it, but I ignored those feelings and kept it in my backpack. 

Mrs Parker’s bus was waiting outside with the big double doors open. Students were saying their last goodbyes and getting on their bus to go home. I got on my bus and sat down. I tried to sit near one of my friends as much as possible. I didn’t like being near the trouble makers. Somehow, someone saw that there was shaving cream in my backpack. The word got over to one of the trouble makers. Then he was asking me for the shaving cream, like he was a friend of mine. I was kind of apprehensive to give it to him but also glad to get rid of it. The boy said he was going to take it home. I gave it to him. I was horrified to see what this boy chose to do with the shaving cream…..

There was a special needs boy on our bus, Donnie, who was the sweetest! He never did anything to anyone and the boy I gave the shaving cream to sprayed it all over Donnie’s face! I was shocked and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Donnie’s face was covered in shaving cream and he was crying. Mrs Parker, seeing the commotion, stopped the bus and started hollering at the boys. Somebody must have told her I brought the shaving cream. She hollered at me saying, “ You have always been so good! And now this!!” I blinked back my tears….. I would have never intentionally hurt Donnie. I was still shocked and couldn’t say anything. I knew there was no point in trying to say anything. 

After that incident I could hardly try to talk to Mrs Parker. I was so embarrassed by what happened and felt bad about but. However, one day, several years later,  Ted and I were at a funeral at the little Baptist church I went to as a girl. Mrs Parker did talk to us there. Could it be she seemed nice? Yes she was! I don’t  remember the conversation except for what she last said…….”Tanya, you were always such a good student on my bus except for that last day of school!!! I couldn’t understand what got into you!!” 

My mouth couldn’t say anything and that was the last I ever got to see Mrs Parker. 

Strangely enough, I look back to those times as good for me. I learned somewhere along the way to sometimes speak up if I need to. More importantly, to listen to my feelings or conscience and not do something that I’m not comfortable with. And also to realize some people may be grumpy because they are having a hard day. 😊

The Little Church 

This little church building is where I attended church as a young girl. Just hearing the name "Temple Creek Baptist Church" brings back memories..........

My grandparents had this church built, and a family cemetery has been there for many, many years longer than the church building. 

Grandma Horne ( as I called her) would be at the church every Sunday she could. She loved singing. My Mama sometimes played the piano and sometimes Grandma asked me to sing. One time I sang the hymn "Standing on the Promises". You know how it goes...."Standing on the promises of Christ my King",  but instead I sang (Cristmy King). I just didn't understand it was saying Christ MY King. No one told me my error and I just kept singing loud as I could over the piano playing. Another time we had a little Christmas program. Several other children nicely played an instrument or sang. It came my turn to play "Away in a Manger" on my clarinet. The reed on my clarinet was dry, and I squeaked and squeaked through the entire song. Afterwards, I remember little older ladies coming up to me, patting my shoulder and saying I did good. 

Other things I recall is walking on the wood floor of that church. It made a clomp clomp sound and I could count how many steps it took to walk to the front of the church or back to the Sunday school room. Sunday school was in a small room at the back of the church. We sat in a circle of small chairs learning about Jesus and Bible stories. 

I only remember one particular preacher. He was short, had dark hair but seemed older. He preached in a fiery way and spit as he would almost jump. The flowers on the piano shook, almost falling and it seemed that the floor bounced. Little old ladies would sit up front staring up at the preacher and I wondered if they were ever spit on.

We all sang as the piano played. They needed that piano playing to keep somewhat of a tune because most of the people did not know how to sing. But it was ok because it was their hearts that counted. The people seemed happy and after church, many hugs were given around. There was also lots of happy chatter and the little fiery preacher became very nice and  greeted each person going out the door. 

My memory fails to give me much more about going to this little church, but my heart remembers the times there as very good. God was good to me to let this church house and the people who went there be a part of my life. The church house has been boarded up for many years now. I wish I could go back in time for one day, go to the little church and feel the good there. 

 So why the title "The Lines Have Fallen..."???

Well it mostly comes from the verse in Psalm 16:6  KJV , "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places: Yea I have a goodly heritage." 

That verse kept coming to me as I think back over stories in my life and present times as well. I have wanted a way to share it with people. But I know how it is when I try to share a story from my life in person. Sometimes it falls flat......it lacks something.....and winds up not being interesting to listen to.

 I started typing out a few stories from my childhood .......and I thought of them as "lines". We all have "lines", you know, our stories. And I love the "pleasant places" our stories can bring! The things I learned from those "lines", the things that makes me laugh today, the things that make me realize just how much God does care for me and each one of us.

 I started a note on my phone of each story and headed it with "The lines are fallen...." I thought it would just fall flat. I shared a couple stories on my WhatsApp status and got some sweet and positive feedback. It was extremely encouraging for me! But I just let the stories be on my phone until I started noticing something.........that note headed with "The lines are fallen" kept coming up as a notification on my phone. Notes on my phone had not done that before. I pushed it aside in my mind, but then it would show up again and again and again! My husband periodically asked if I had another story for him to read and also said I need to start writing them out. Maybe write a book. I don't know about writing a book, but for now I'd like to write on my blog. =)

This verse also means to me ........ God, you have been so good to me! He has most certainly placed those "lines" in my life. It can also mean, " Your sovereign goodness has fenced me in to God himself."     "The borders of my life are boundaries around where God is."                                                                And the goodly heritage is God. God is my inheritance. Definitely, God is our inheritance if we have trusted Him for salvation! 

I hope you'll enjoy what you read on my blog. =)

 Well hey there! 😊

I guess this is my first post for my blog “ The Lines Have Fallen”. I’d like to tell you some things about myself and my family. I am a born again Christian and so thankful for Jesus who paid the price for my salvation!  My husband, Ted is owner of Moen Construction and also one of the pastors at Emmanuel Christian Fellowship. We live right next door to church. =) No, we did not plan on that, but it was what God lead us to and we are grateful. We have 8 children, and home-schooled all of them. Our oldest son married in 2014, and has 3 adorable and lively little boys! In the past few years, our lives have been changing pretty fast. We have two daughters, and a son that were married to their spouses within 13 months.  One daughter also moved to North Carolina. Our 20 year old twin daughters and almost 16 year old youngest daughter are the only ones that live at home with us now. 

I have always loved writing letters to a few friends through the years. Although the last seven years I would say, I have hardly written any letters, due to not having enough time, or motivation. Since we are in a different stage of life, not quite empty nesters, I wonder what to do next. I remember my children would ask me to tell them a story of when I was a girl but it was hard to relay by saying it. I can write out stories better. So this blog will probably have some stories of when I was a girl or teen or even as a wife and mother. I hope it to be encouraging, sometimes funny, and sometimes some life's lessons woven in. Well, I guess that's it for this one. I really hope to hear from you as well! As you read my stories, I'd love to hear yours too!