Saturday, February 2, 2019

Time for You

When was the last time you took time for yourself?

Have you taken a few minutes in the morning to get your motor started

or do you jump into the day's activities?

I like to start the day with a cup of coffee on the front porch where I listen

to the birds and watch people hurrying to work.

Do you take time on the weekends to catch up?

I never call anyone on Sunday afternoon, just in case

that person is getting some much needed rest by taking a nap.

How about a weekend retreat to revitalize?

Three days a year to get yourself refreshed and focused,

is not a luxury but a must have for harried individuals.

The weekend before school started, I would leave the kids

with my mother and go to Houston. There I would sleep late,

take a dip in the pool, and dine on the balcony.

I was then ready to face the next year.

Sound good to you?

Don't forget to tell your family and friends how important they are to you.

If you have any ideas you would like to share, I will pass them on.

I have been doing the workshop but I am trying to plan a retreat,

if the Lord is willing.

May God bless you,

Dorris Jean

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Running on Fumes

Hannah was Running on Fumes I Samuel 1 when she fell on her knees and

pored her heart out to the Lord.

Her husband's new wife had something she didn't

ad never let a day pass without rubbing it in.

She had children and Hannah had none.

Telling her problems to the Lord brought relief and more.

Eli promised Hannah that he prayers would be answered.

Immediately, Hannah felt better.

She left not only with hope but the knowledge

that a compassionate God would grant her what she most wanted.

Hannah had no way of knowing that God would do even more.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018


Pray with Thanksgiving

                    Word of Christ dwells in us

                Give thanks through our Lord

                    Walk in wisdom

                Season your speech with salt

                    Don’t be taken captive by nonsense

Saturday, December 15, 2018


I Peter 4: 8 And above all things, have fervent love for one another.

Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us. I John 3: 1

Who do you love? Love your neighbor as yourself. Leviticus 19: 18

The Lord your God? Yourself. If you love something, you take care of it.

Love life to the death. Revelation 12: 19

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Asking for HELP

Asking for Help

            It is hard enough for me to ask for help when I know someone and much harder when I don’t know a person. Maybe it is the other way around. If you don’t know someone, they offer help out of the kindness of their heart. If you know the person, you may feel if you ask, there will be string attached.

            I fell crossing the street. As I lay on the concrete drive, “How am I going to get up?” crossed my mind. As if to an answered prayer, three workers who were part of the HOA maintenance crew came to my rescue. From my vantage point, all I could see were work boots. Not only did they help me get up, they offer to see that I got medical treatment and helped me get in back inside. Where I lived in the country, I could have lay there for days before anyone noticed that I needed help. My husband’s hearing is bad and he kept the TV so loud that he could not hear it thunder much less a cry for help.

            I am so thankful for all those good people out there who get involved and help with no other agenda. People are good and if you give them a chance… be amazed at what happens. My hardest problem is asking for help. I want to be considered independent. Guess my fall showed me that I am vulnerable and need assistance at times. Why am I so afraid to ask for help has crossed my mind? All my life I have been told to work. OK but what has that to do with asking for help? Dad just told us to do things without showing us how. We figured it out on our own. Asking for help is a sign of weakness. I discovered that it is more than that. It shows that we need each other and when you can help, kudos to both of you

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

J P Remembers Thankgiving

                                                Remembering Thanksgiving

What I remember most about Thanksgiving is the drive. I remember my mom getting up early to pack to the car and make egg sandwiches. I remember leaving our house in the pale, cold morning light with air cold enough I could see my breath. I remember the chill of the vinyl bench seat of our station wagon and how difficult it was to get comfortable in that old car. I remember first fighting with my brother for the privilege of sitting in the front seat, then, as we got older, fighting with him for complete control of the backseat.

From our home in Leesville to my grandparents’ house in Arkansas, we were in for a least an eight-hour haul, and that’s if we didn’t stop to visit my father or his siblings along the way. The drive included a mandatory bathroom stop at the McDonald’s in Mansfield, a stop for gas in Hope, Arkansas, and a couple of other pee breaks along the way. We always filled up with gas before getting off the interstate onto the rural highway to Memaw and Poppy’s house. I remember wishing we could stop in and see Mr. Cryer at his little convenience store/gas station in Springfield as we passed through, but it was always too late at night for that. But I knew I could always con my grandfather into taking me down there to say hi and that Mr. Cryer (or “Chicken” as everyone called him) would always remember me. What I remember most of the drive is how long it used to take us to get to our destination and how the return trip seemed to go so much faster.

I don’t have any memories of a Norman Rockwell family gathering at Thanksgiving.                    Often, it was a small gathering with little pomp and no circumstance. My grandmother didn’t cook very well, and my aunt and uncles were always off doing something else in another state or country. At the time I never understood why they didn’t come home more often, but as I’ve grown and had opportunity to see my family through adult eyes, I now understand. There was a sadness in the homecoming. My grandmother began to wither away slowly with each successive stroke so that it became hard to want to make the trip just to witness her deterioration. Then finally, she was no longer there to bake biscuits and make chocolate gravy on the cold November mornings. That’s when the thankfulness in my family seemed to die.

            For years, I lamented the solemnity of my family’s Thanksgivings. When I got to college, I just avoided it altogether and refused to come home. In fact I just began avoiding my family. It was hard to go home when all the old hurts and haunts were still there. I couldn’t pretend things were like they used to be. It wasn’t the same. Others in my family felt it, too. No one wanted to drive in to spend a couple of days of wallowing in depression.

Then a funny thing happened when I was living on my own in San Antonio a few years ago. I figured out I couldn’t bring the dead back. I thought about it and concluded it didn’t really matter whether or not I had a big, shiny turkey I baked in the middle of a table surrounded by twenty guests. I also finally decided my ever-shrinking family would never be in the same place at the same time. So with only my mother and step-father willing or able to travel to celebrate with me, I made reservations for three at the Westin La Cantera Hotel and Resort on the edge of the Texas Hill Country. We feasted like kings on baked and fried turkey, prime rib, glazed ham, 30 different types of dressings and other side dishes, and an entire banquet table full of pumpkin, cherry, and other kinds of pie. I remember there were even pilgrims and Indians walking around. Everyone wore their smiles along with their “Sunday best.” I remember all of us chatting with the strangers around us then walking outside to the veranda to take in the view.

But I remember the drive home most of all. I remember counting my blessings and thanking God for the family I had left. I remember thanking Him for the cold after such a hot south Texas summer. I remember giving thanks for what I had and not grieving over what I did not. But mostly, I remember how much longer the trip to the hotel took than the trip home.