Waiting for Santa...

Casey found his favorite spot.

The First!

Our first resident moves in on Wednesday! It looks like we will avoid bankruptcy after all. Things were becoming a bit worrisome 'round here.

Make Me a Blessing

Out on the highways and byways of life,
Many are the weary and sad;
Carry the sunshine where darkness is rife,
Making the sorrowing glad.

Chorus:
Make me a blessing, make me a blessing;
Out of my life may Jesus shine.
Make me a blessing, O Savior I pray,
Make me a blessing to someone today.

Tell the sweet story of Christ and His love,
Tell of His pow'r to forgive;
Others will trust Him if only you prove
True every moment you live.

Give as 'twas given to you in your need,
Love as the Master loved you;
Be to the helpless a helper indeed,
Unto your mission be true.

Words by Ira B. Wilson
Born: September 6, 1880, Bedford, Iowa
Died: April 3, 1950, Los Angeles, California

Wilson’s sister taught him to play the violin and organ while still at home. Around 1902, Ira began studies at the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, Illinois. In 1905, he went to work for the Lorenz Publishing Company in Dayton, Ohio.

Listen to this hymn here or here.

A Thanksgiving Proclaimation

By Abraham Lincoln

It is the duty of the nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God; to confess their sins and transgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord.

We know that by His divine law, nations, like individuals, are subject to punishments and chastisements in this world. May we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war which now desolates the land may be a punishment inflicted upon us for our presumptuous sins; to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole people?

We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven. We have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to God that made us.

It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.

Giving Thanks

This week I have been thinking about what I am most thankful for at this time of my life. Each time I got in my car to drive to work or to visit a patient, I contemplated the thing of person or philosophy or what ever that meant the most to me. It was easy to say God or family of life or any other thing. Yet each thing can be preempted by something else. How can I find one thing that I am most thankful for when I have so much? So, here is my list of things I am thankful for. It is a partial list and in no particular order.

The grace and mercy of God. This is the reason I live. This is the reason I know why I am here and where I am going.

My Soul Mate. I don’t know that God puts just one person on earth for each of us to be our soul mate. If He does, I am so grateful that I found mine.

My family. Each member of my family offers a different piece for which to be grateful.

God’s Creation. The change of seasons, the glorious vistas, the little details—all are part of an amazing world in which we live.

Accents

Found this one over at Patrick's. I guess that this is the accent you get when you are raised in Iowa and North Central Washington and now live in Oregon...

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The West
The South
Boston
North Central
The Inland North
Philadelphia
The Northeast
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Today, 143 Years Ago

On November 19, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln delivered a short speech at the close of ceremonies dedicating the battlefield cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Requested to offer a few remarks, Lincoln memorialized the Union dead and highlighted the redemptive power of their sacrifice. Placing the common soldier at the center of the struggle for equality, Lincoln reminded his listeners of the higher purpose for which blood was shed.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Can't Feel At Home

This world is not my home I'm just a passing through
My treasures and my hopes are all beyond the blue
Where many friends and kindred have gone on before
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Over in glory land there is no dying there
The saints are shouting victory there's singing everywhere
I hear the voice of them that I have heard before
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Oh Lord you know I have no friend like you
If heaven's not my home oh Lord what would I do
Angel's beckon me to heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Heaven's expecting me that's one I know
I fixed it up with Jesus a long time ago
He will take me through though I am weak and poor
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Oh I have a loving mother over in glory land
I don't expect to stop until I shake her hand
She's gone on before just waiting at heaven's door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Recorded by the Carter Family May 23, 1931. Both Alan Lomax and his father, John, were devoted to finding and recording as much American folk music as possible. They were two of many folklorists of the early 20th century who were traveling through the country gathering the roots of true American culture, folk and blues music. This is just one of many songs that may have been brought to American with the earliest immigrants and passed down from one generation to the next until it was finally captured and preserved by folklorists.

Test

This is a test to see if a recent update has enabled me to post again. So, far it seems to be working as I can at least type. Here goes...