- Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul Barbour Publishing Barbour Publishing
- By Barbour Publishing - Barbour Publishing
- Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul - Debora M. Coty
Now thatthe kids are gone, so is my motivation.
Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul Barbour Publishing Barbour Publishing
Now doing laundry frees up time to read a book, visit the grandchildren, go fishing, or even take a nap. I love laundry simply because I can always put it off without guilt for another day.
This new dress makes me look ten pounds slimmer, my husband cleaned the house while I was at work, and the kids threatened to do their own laundry if I refused to put my feet up and relax all evening. Now I ask you, how much more can a woman take? For everything in the world—the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does— comes not from the Father but from the world.
Most women have a hard time keeping a pristine home unless they hire help to keep it that way. I often wonder if we worry too much about what others will think— we are so often our own harshest critics. Perhaps we would be a little easier on ourselves if we heard a different view. My writing friend Susan lives in the country with her husband and three sons. Her boys hunt in the fields and fish in the creeks, so Susan doesn't have them underfoot too often.
Even so, with her writing projects, speaking engagements, and travel schedule, her house usually leans more toward Rat's Nest than Pristine. In other words, if cleanliness is next to godliness, Susan hasn't got a prayer. However, if lovability is next to godliness, Susan is a saint. Most of her friends, including me, love it that Susan's house is usually in a state of disarray.
There's something freeing about never worrying about spilling coffee on—well, anything. Equally nice is the fact that we aren't tempted to compareour homes with hers and feel discouraged or jealous. We can prop up our feet and let the good times roll! Susan usually has us rolling right away with her storytelling skills. She is a walking treasure trove of "truth is stranger than fiction" funny stories. And the last one was a doozey:. Well, Claire Smith—a new gal in town—offered to take me home. Reaching the kitchen counter, I cleared away cereal bowls and wiped up warm sticky milk as fast and inconspicuously as I could.
Claire was still all smiles and seemed unmoved by the mess. We'll sit out on the back porch I've encountered many interesting things in my refrigerator, but this time, even I was shocked. Staring me in the face was the carcass of a rabbit and the pelt of a squirrel.
Obviously my sons had been big-game hunting. She laughed till she cried.
By Barbour Publishing - Barbour Publishing
Girls, Claire's gonna fit in just fine! Susan finished her saga with this jewel. Except, maybe, insanity. What is it about a "be yourself" kind of friend that is so irresistible? Maybe it reminds us of what unconditional love feels like. To be able to completely relax in someone's presence and home is a gift; and we can thank God for those who give us that relational luxury.
We can even take mental notes and learn how to do the same for others when they come to our place. Maybe Susan can loan us some squirrel pelts to get us started. For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. Psalm I discovered long ago that I was not good at cleaning. Some people actually enjoyed it, but I found it as rewarding as having teeth pulled. The problem is, you are never done with it, never satisfied that you captured every last dust bunny or swept away every cookie crumb.
Even if you did, more would begin to accumulate before you put away the mop. Cleaning has a certain built-in futility. But I did it for a good twenty years as the children grew up, and nobody ever caught a horrible disease from the cobwebs I knew I missed. When I went back to work and collected my first pitiful paycheck, it finally dawned on me that I could pay other people to clean my house.
My mother had never had help, even though she worked all her life, but she was a better woman than I am, or at least less compulsive. Ever since then I've had a crew of people who appear every week and accomplish more in one hour than I could by cleaning every spare second of my day. I still have to do some cleaning, but the burden is off my back. Help arrives every Wednesday afternoon, regular as clockwork, and I don't go looking for trouble in corners or anywhere else.
To me this is the abundant life in spades. Should your springs overflow in the streets, your streams of water in the public squares? Proverbs While rereading Dr. Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages, the importance of actually speaking the language of the one with whom we're trying to communicate was demonstrated to me in a most memorable way.
My husband and I were visiting picturesque Innsbruck, Austria, on our first trip abroad. By the third day, the cuisine disagreed with my delicate internal fortitude. Yep, I was assaulted by the Innsbruck trots. Frantically searching for the Bavarian equivalent of Walgreens, I discovered a sign down the street from our hotel bearing a long German word reminiscent of "apothecary," the old-fashioned term for drugstore.
So I shuffled into the shop, knees together and rear cheeks clinched, to find a wall-to- wall glass counter behind which were stored all the goods. Three stern-faced clerks were taking orders. I knew zero German. Glancing at the other now-gawking customers, I leaned over the counter and whispered, "I" pointed to my chest — "need" pointed to knee —"medicine" mimed popping pills into my mouth —"for" held up four fingers —um, um At that moment, a dozen Japanese tourists crowded into the tiny shop, packing us in like a box of toothpicks.
The clerk stared at me, waiting. I considered giving up, but that Rhea sister wasn't just knocking on my door, she was pounding with both fists. Deep breath.
Try again. The customers behind me tittered. The clerk shook her head and jabbered loudly to her cohort as my dignity meltedinto a puddle on the floor. I was deathly afraid that something very nasty was about to follow. A Japanese woman from the back of the crowd made her way to my side. Please note that some countries may charge the recipient duties on the 'import' of parcels from time-to-time.
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Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul - Debora M. Coty
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Who doesn't? Find mirth and spiritual refreshment in Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul, a devotional drawn from well-known and up-and-coming humorists. Seventy-five readings tackle the real-life joys, trials, and embarrassments of women-giving each a hilarious twist. And every reading points you to the heavenly Father who knows all about you-and loves you completely. For immediate download.
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