Do you remember your first encounter with Charles Shultz’s Peanuts characters? Mine occurred in October of 1966 with It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. After that, I couldn’t get enough of these characters – their insecurities, precociousness, and honesty.
As I thought of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and how many years we’ve been blessed to enjoy this tradition, “happiness is” (one of my favorite sentence openers by Charles Shultz) burst to the forefront of my mind.
Yet, when we look at the Peanuts characters, it isn’t their happiness that makes them so likable. Relatable. It’s the flaws embedded in their personalities.
Charlie Brown needs to put a nickel in his friend Lucy’s can to talk with her, to share his concerns. Jesus is available 24/7, always willing to hear what’s on our hearts, and loves us unconditionally. He’s already paid the price.
Though Lucy is a natural leader, her desire to impress others and gain their attention exposes her insincerity, especially when it comes to Schroeder. Jesus came to seek and save the lost. People gravitated to Him, He didn’t seek their acclaim. He freely gave of Himself.
Linus’s need for a blanket endears him to us. There are few things as comforting as a warm blanket on a wintry night. If we’re honest, we never outgrow the need for security and comfort. After all, isn’t that what hugs are all about? We long to be wrapped up in a blanket of acceptance, love, belonging. Everything Jesus offers.
Charles “Sparky” Schultz understood each of these characters because somewhere inside him, he was each of them. A devoted Christian at the outset, Sparky set out to include faith in his comic strips. For example, in 1963, when America debated the role of religion in schools, Sparky had Lucy end the Pledge of Allegiance with “Amen.”
For several decades, A Charlie Brown Christmas aired Thanksgiving night–a prelude to the Christmas season. In my humble opinion, it was and should be that way because thanksgiving is embedded in the spirit of Christmas.
Thankfulness is … giving thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His love endures forever!
Written by eMarie
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A friend and I took a spur-of-the-moment drive up into the mountains of Colorado on Saturday to view the changing fall colors. The yellows and golds of the aspens are impressive at this time of year, and if one looks closely, an occasional red can be observed. The alpine landscape is vibrant with color in autumn.
Yet, upon closer inspection, as we traveled through wooded areas, we discovered trees dry and thirsting for water. Rainfall has been sparse in this part of the country this year and fire danger is critically high. A careless spark can trigger a blaze that consumes acres in a short amount of time.
I was reminded of the appearance we often admire in others that hides a deep lack of life and substance. How often we emulate a celebrity or public figure and their glamorous lifestyle, only to discover their daily lives are in shambles. We look up to those who we believe are strong in character and integrity, only to discover that the roots of their behavior stem from greed and selfishness.
I sometimes see in myself a lack of a nourished spirit. I forego Bible reading, devotional time, and prayer for other activities I see as priority on any given day. The result is a person who wears the façade of kindness, compassion, and love on the outside, hidden by an endearing smile. Yet, on the inside lurks a person who strives to serve self and pursue meaningless activities. Like those trees that are doomed to death for lack of water, my spirit threatens to shrivel up and die when I fail to satisfy its thirst.
We don’t have to depend on rainfall to thrive as the trees do. We have the living water of Jesus available for the taking. All we need to do is open our hearts and drink.
By Patti Shene
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Italian artist Salvatore Garau recently sold his sculpture at an art auction for an astounding $20k. According to Garau, his work of art requires a 5’x5’ space for display and must be in a private home.
Whether you’re an art aficionado or appreciate art, most pieces command some level of interest. “I Am,” Garau’s sculpture, might get high marks in that regard. Why?
It’s invisible!
Now, before you laugh, consider the benefits. Lightweight. Inexpensive to clean. Easy to store, ingenious. An apparent versatile and clever design. Goes with any decor or furnishings. Definitely an original.
But how can one appreciate this artistic wonder? It flies in the face of all who agree that seeing is believing!
Ah, and there’s the rub. Ever wonder if this is how our faith appears to unbelievers? Invisible? Mysterious? Out of view to all but those with special X-ray vision?
No. God is real. His handiwork is real. The sun, moon, and stars are just a few examples of His powerful yet loving creative abilities.
Salvation through Jesus Christ is real. There’s an empty tomb in Jerusalem to prove His death and resurrection, which secures our salvation. No cloak of invisibility here.
As opposed to Garau’s requirements, God constructed His gift to be inside us and spread throughout the world. We are His masterpiece, His one-of-a-kind design. Our faith in Him may not be seen by the world, but He is alive and active in every believer.
God says of Himself in Exodus 3:14, “I am who I am.”
When we spread the gift of eternal life through faith in Jesus Christ, He changes lives. That’s the power of the real I am!
By eMarie
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(…from last week: “Oh, God, you’ve gotta help me!” While still moving straight for the curb, I remember incredible peace washing over me. Staring at the green patch ahead, I heard myself laughing. Great! I’m going to die laughing in this accident.)
Someone on my right blew their horn and waved me in.
I don’t remember if it was a man or a woman or another almost twenty-year-old like me. I do remember having lots of questions about God thereafter. Still do, if I’m honest.
Four years ago, after my husband’s stage 4 cancer diagnosis, I maintained a stoic front. Inwardly, I believed God and took Him at His word. But wanted, needed something personal. Something from Him to show me that even though I didn’t see it, He was still working, still moving on our behalf. That He cared about what was happening to my husband. To me. That He was still available, able, and in control of every aspect of our lives.
While I pictured those same crossroads in Sacramento, CA and my car heading straight for the curb, my conversation with God was obviously different this time.
I believed His every word. He says, and I believe, He is always with us … all the way to the very end (Matt. 28:20b). As though He needed it, I reminded the Lord of His many promises throughout all generations to be Emmanual–God with us. I recited His provisions to His children. His miracles and healing hand. His might and power.
Crickets.
I got in the car to go to lunch with a group of Bible study friends. As I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, I again asked God for something personal. To let me know He was with me. A mental check of His goodness, His presence throughout the Old and New Testament brought no startling revelation or singular peace.
Walking into the restaurant, beyond frustrated, I took a deep breath and exhaled. That’s when it hit me so hard my brain jolted.
My breath!
My first breath was proof of life! Not just my life. Proof of God’s existence! Proof of His personal love for me. For each of us. His breath gives us life. He created us for His purposes. Our lives were, are, and forevermore will be personal to Him.
That afternoon, in an effort to capture what God showed me, I penned the first words to A Snowflake’s Adventure.
…four years later, my husband is living with cancer and doing well.
A Snowflake’s Adventure is a story of God’s personal love. To my husband. To me. To every child He’s ever created. Unique. Purposeful. We are His one-of-a-kind design. Each. And. Every. One.
By eMarie
P.S. As of 10/14/21, A Snowflake’s Adventure is #1 on Amazon’s list of Hot New Releases and #20 on its list of Christian Children’s Early Readers! That’s what God did!! <3
To leave a comment, please click on the title above, WHY A SNOWFLAKE’S ADVENTURE? (Pt. 2), and scroll down. Please subscribe, share this website with a friend, and come back next week for a new post. Thank you and God bless you!! 🙂
A Snowflake’s Adventure is available in English and Spanish on Amazon and IngramSpark. For every book sold, one will be donated to Operation Christmas Child/Samaritan’s Purse Shoebox drive. Thank you for making this dream a reality!
“…I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10b, NIV)
Can you imagine a snowflake too afraid to leave Heaven’s gate because it’ll melt?
If you can, perhaps you, too, can imagine a child unaware that his or her life has purpose. That God, the Creator of everything, gives each child life. He puts His breath in his or her lungs. Every child should know he/she isn’t an accident!
What about you? Do you know you were created on purpose, for a very special purpose?
Many years ago, as I wrestled with the tale or truth of a living God, I read the Bible, investigated various religions, listened to sermons, read articles in magazines and books, and watched movies. To me, other religions ran the spectrum of gods I could never please to me-centric cults: my thoughts and ideas, what made me feel good, how I could succeed.
…if I could put God in a box of my own making, why would I need Him? He was no better off than me! None of these “theologies” made sense. The more religions I studied, the more bewildered and discouraged I became.
One morning on my drive to work, I remember engaging in another mental argument: how can I know if God is real? What can this ethereal being do to prove He’s who He says He is? The All-Powerful God. Creator of the Universe. And why would He love me?
Before I knew it, I’d come to a fork in the road. If I drove straight, I’d end up over a curb and into a grassy square. Yet, I couldn’t decide – left or right. Now, not only my mental and spiritual health were in jeopardy, but my body, my car, and the City of Sacramento, CA, reached collision proportions! I couldn’t enter the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the left, and the flow on the right was no better. Yet my foot remained frozen on the gas pedal.
“Oh, God, you’ve gotta help me!” While still moving straight for the curb, I remember incredible peace washing over me. Staring at the green patch ahead, I heard myself laughing. Great! I’m going to die laughing in this accident…
(please return next week for Part 2 of Why a Snowflake’s Adventure?)
By eMarie
To leave a comment, please click on the title above, WHY A SNOWFLAKE’S ADVENTURE? (Pt. 1), and scroll down. Please subscribe, share this website with a friend, and come back next week for a new post. Thank you and God bless you!! 🙂
A Snowflake’s Adventure is available in English and Spanish on Amazon and IngramSpark. For every book sold, one will be donated to Operation Christmas Child/Samaritan’s Purse Shoebox drive. Thank you for making this dream a reality! (See the link on A Snowflake’s Adventure on this website. Thank you!)
After years of remodeling, my husband and I contemplated selling our home. Real estate prices in our area had skyrocketed, luring us to dip our toes in the hot market. However, one day of home shopping quickly squelched those thoughts. Most homes were over-priced, in need of remodeling, and/or lacked the homey feel we’ve come to enjoy.
This dose of reality inspired us to stay where we are, content as clams.
But someday our address will change…
When Billy Graham was questioned about what would happen to him after his last breath, he said, “Someday you will read or hear that Billy Graham is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. I shall be more alive than I am now. I will just have changed my address. I will have gone into the presence of God.”
What a brilliant statement of faith!
During a meeting, Billy Graham told the audience this anecdote:
“I’m told that there is a cemetery in Indiana that has an old tombstone bearing this epitaph: Pause, stranger, when you pass me by As you are now, so once was I As I am now, so you will be So prepare for death and follow me
An unknown passerby read those words and underneath scratched this reply: To follow you I’m not content Until I know which way you went.”
Sounds like the question Thomas asked when Jesus appeared to the disciples after His resurrection: “We don’t know where you’re going, so how can we know the way?” (John 14:5, NIV)
Rather than rebuking Thomas, Jesus compassionately calms the fear in this young man. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6, NIV)
Unlike the tombstone epitaph, once we ask Jesus into our hearts, we know which way to go. One step at a time, we follow Him until, like Billy Graham, we have a change of address.
Southwest Airlines is famous for asking if we wanna get away. But only Jesus has the correct coordinates and the keys to the kingdom. If you’re trusting in Him, your ticket is reserved, your home prepared, and your destination assured.
Are you ready for a change of address?
By eMarie
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Our lilacs bloomed late this year, but that didn’t detract from their delicate purple, violet, and lavender hues, or their captivating aroma. After snipping and arranging a bunch in a crystal vase on the dining room table, their fragrance permeated the entire house. Ahh! There’s nothing as wonderful, as fresh, as organic, as this springtime flower.
However, a few days later shriveled petals accumulated on the table, and their signature scent had morphed into a sour odor.
Though I’d filled the vase with cold water, added a few ice cubes, and kept them in a cool room, something went wrong!
Jesus said “… for without Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5b, NIV)
When we’re cut off from the vine, acting under our own power, groping for happiness from any other place than the Giver of Life, we might look and smell sweet for a time. But the blush will wear off, the fragrance will depart, and we’ll soon wither and die.
Before the petals begin to fall, before we lose our salt, before our aroma sours, let’s plug back into the vine, renew, and rejuvenate. Let’s not only consider but cling to the source.
By eMarie
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“He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Cor.1:4, NIV)
Several weeks ago we said goodbye to Barkley, our almost 12-year-old Goldendoodle. To say it was or has been easy would be a lie. Anyone who has experienced the loss of a furry family friend would say the same.
But, I promise, this post is headed in a hope-filled direction.
I want to share with you an amazing glimpse, unbelievable moments of contrast, the Lord allowed us to see with Barkley’s passing.
After weighing the alternatives, my hubby and I decided to relieve Barkley’s future suffering. What was that moment like when Jesus decided to leave Heaven to relieve our suffering? His decision cost Him everything. Yet He willingly gave up His life to save ours.
We lovingly, attentively stayed with Barkley and whispered our love for him while he slipped away. Jesus lovingly, longingly whispers His love for us, not willing that anyone would slip into eternity without Him.
Barkley lavished on us unconditional love. Even after we had scolded him for polishing off a two-pound bag of brown sugar we had foolishly left on the kitchen island, he flashed those luminous big brown eyes and extended his paw to us. Jesus lavishes on us His unconditional love. No matter what sin we’ve committed. No matter how far we’ve strayed or missed the mark. No matter how often we’ve rejected or refused Him. He opens His arms, extends His nail-pierced hands, and whispers His love and forgiveness. All we have to do is accept Him.
We left the vet’s and drove away without Barkley for the first time in 12 years, awash in the experience, reminded of the joys that were and will never be again. The sense of loss and emptiness became overwhelming. Is that what Jesus feels each time we refuse His love? Each request for a relationship denied, each knock on our heart’s door unanswered, each gift of salvation unopened?
Barkley’s better now. He loved us well and gave us so many joy-filled, warm memories. Our lives are better because he was a huge part of every day!
Know what? When we accept Jesus, our lives are better because He gave His life for us. Every day on Earth may not be sunshine and rainbows, but as we allow Him to become a bigger part of our lives, He makes us whole. Better.
Will life ever be the same without Barkley? The jury’s still out. But please don’t spend your life, or eternity, without Jesus. Nothing is better than Heaven!
By eMarie
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…the night is coming when no one can work. (John 9:4b, NKJV)
(From Part 2: “Hammett. Hammett.” Bile burned in my throat. Thunder rolled in the distance, or did the noise reverberate from the television? I raced into the living room and sank to my knees. “Oh, dear God, no!”)
The North Tower crumbled to the ground. Glass and metal hurled through the air. Frantic people scrambled in every direction only to have ash and soot swallow them. The TV screen became a gray-black blur. The camera shook as the crew darted for safety—their nervous voices lost in the melee.
Someone screamed, her shrill, loud voice filled the room and pierced my ears. Her tears flowed down my face into trembling hands. Pieces of priceless pottery sailed through the air, their broken shards less hysterical than she. I had to stop her before she lost complete control.
The wet carpet under my face became my first wake-up call. Too weak to push myself up, I laid there. Garbled voices from the television drifted toward me spewing words that ran together. A third plane crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania, its destination shy of its goal. A man wrung his hands and mumbled about the Pentagon but the information didn’t fully register.
I forced myself to read the words on the screen. “America Under Attack.” Voices narrated their impromptu speculation. Eyewitnesses reported chilling accounts. Some commented about children in a nearby preschool whose parents would never pick them up.
No one tried to explain why my husband had to die in the attack. Time lost its meaning. I don’t know how long I laid there while television commentators continued their analysis. Heat, humidity, and smoke wafted through my open windows. Damp hair stuck to my face.
A blinking red light caught my eye, and I thrust myself off the floor. Cell phone plans were expensive, and I’d only given my number to a few people. I racked my brain but couldn’t imagine who would’ve left a message.
Engaged in a dizzy dance, I staggered like a shipwrecked sailor into the bedroom and snatched the phone from the desk. Before I flopped on the bed, I grabbed a coverlet. Curled in a fetal ball, I clutched the phone. Spent nerves prevented me from listening to the message.
My mind replayed conversations Hammett shared when he’d headed the safety committee. He equipped the offices with fire extinguishers and carried out routine fire drills up and down the thirty-seven flights of stairs. No wonder he stayed in great physical shape. Hope flooded my thoughts.
I blew out a long sigh, pushed the button, and retrieved the only message.
“Hi, Mom, it’s Maddie. It’s about 8:37 on Tuesday morning, September 11. I don’t have to be to work at the hospital until noon today. These twenty-four-hour emergency room shifts are brutal, and I haven’t seen you guys as much as I’d like. I picked up some bagels and cream cheese at that deli you two always rave about. I’m gonna take them up to Dad’s office, and wondered if maybe you could join us.
“By the way, I got bored at work Sunday and weighed myself. Big mistake. So, before I eat these bagels, thought I’d take the stairs up to Dad’s office. If it doesn’t kill me, maybe I’ll lose five pounds by the time I get there.
“Okay, I’m about to enter the stairwell so I might lose reception but I’ll count off the steps for as long as I can. Ready? “Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen . . .”
***
People often ask why I’ve left this story unfinished. Well, let me ask you – if this were your story, your life, how would it end?
Claire had no idea how radically her life would change on September 11, 2001. She and Hammett seemingly had it all: the penthouse, the money, the future . . . or so they thought. Though they’d planned for their financial goals to the last penny, they’d neglected their eternal destination. Maybe more time would’ve helped, but it’s the one commodity none of us can buy.
Unlike the fictional characters in my story who had to comply with how they’re written, people have free will. We choose where we will spend eternity.
The Bible tells us that God sent His Son Jesus into this fallen world to provide a way for us to go to Heaven. Since Jesus lived a perfect life, His death on the cross paid the penalty for our sins. You might think being a good person is good enough. Well, if that were true, Jesus wouldn’t have had to die for your sins.
What’s sin? Sin means to break the law, go against a moral code, to miss the mark. If we’re honest, we’ve all missed the mark. When we ask Jesus Christ to forgive our sins, He comes and lives in our hearts. He makes us a new person. We trade our sin-filled life for a new one . . . that’s what “born again” is all about.
We’re all given the opportunity to choose to live for Jesus. Our choice makes the difference between the hope of Heaven or the horror of hell.
We all remember the tragedy of September 11, 2001—the images we saw, the news accounts we heard, the stories we read. Maybe you had a relative, close friend, or an acquaintance who died in that horrible attack.
Ready or not, the day will come when we, too, breathe our last breath.
Like the characters in this story, perhaps you’ve succeeded in achieving your financial goals.
None of that will matter if you haven’t chosen Jesus and secured your eternal destination.
To do that, simply ask Jesus into your heart today. Read His Word, the Bible, and let Him lead you home.
***
Please see the special page created on this website entitled “The Penthouse” where you can post questions about this story, your thoughts about the 21th anniversary of 9/11/2001, and your memories of that day.
This is an original fictional story written by eMarie.
To leave a comment, please click on the title above, THE PENTHOUSE – An original 9/11 STORY (Part 3), and scroll down. Thank you for subscribing and inviting friends to this website. God bless you! 🙂
But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only. (Matt.24:35, NKJV)
(Repeat from part 1: Hammett and I grieved in different ways. He poured himself into his work and allowed it to consume him.“Can’t we talk about this?” I’d pleaded. He shrugged, undressed, and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.)
To cope, I skipped meals. Lots of them. If Hammett and I were invited out, I sometimes pretended to eat. Other times, I’d polished off my plate like a ravenous wolf. When my stomach rebelled, unable to handle its contents, I excused myself to find the nearest restroom.
My friend Jessica noticed my weight loss and unhealthy eating patterns. She invited me out to lunch. Instead, she took me to meet with her therapist.
After several sessions, I suggested Hammett go with me.
“Don’t ever ask me to go to one of those shysters. It’s mind over matter. You think they’ll help you, but all they do is take your money.” He pointed his finger at me. “Besides, I’m not the one that needs help.”
In five weeks, I’d gone from a healthy 152-pound, 5’6” woman to a lethargic 129 pounds. I knew I was out of control when I caught a glimpse of my skin-taut rib cage in the mirror. It didn’t surprise me when I woke up in a hospital bed, disoriented and bewildered, with tubes and monitors all around me.
Hammett stroked my hair. “I found you passed out in the bathroom. I’m so sorry. I should have done something . . . I.” His eyes met mine. “We’ll get counseling. The two of us. We’ll get better.”
We did get better. Hammett made it a rule—he’d be home by dinnertime every workday, and he stuck to it. Over time, our therapy sessions went from twice a week to once a month. We learned so much more about each other, and as Solomon had said, we began to appreciate what we’d taken for granted.
By now, our daughter Madilyn had graduated medical school and joined a small emergency medicine practice in the City. Our daughter-in-law visited often with our grandson, Oliver. He lit up the room and kept us young. We enjoyed spoiling him with toys, books, clothes, and electronics.
A shiver crawled along my spine. I glanced at my watch, stunned that I’d daydreamed on the balcony for so long. I hurried to clean off the table and brought the breakfast dishes to the sink, then turned on my favorite TV morning show to accompany my mundane chores. Water splashed over my hands. I hummed and scrubbed the plates.
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you. . .” I turned toward the television—its picture captured my attention. The camera lens zoomed in close, as if I rode on the wings of a misguided jet.
The commentator’s words pricked my ears. Sirens and horns blared outside and in the background while the TV newscaster narrated the uncertain reality. Clear blue skies above the Twin Towers blackened with billowy smoke. Again and again, images of the plane as it flew into the North Tower appeared on the screen. I flipped through the channels. There had to be some mistake, maybe some sick reenactment of War of the Worlds.
I hurried to the balcony and looked toward Manhattan, to the steel towers that graced our view. “God, help us.” Dark smoke rose into the air until it entombed the silvery tower.
Back inside, I grabbed the phone from the receiver, relieved I still had a dial tone. Before I pushed a button, the phone slipped from my sweat-drenched palm. My breath caught in my throat. The TV camera tracked another plane soaring at low altitude on approach to the South Tower. My body crumpled to the floor and my heart hammered as flames erupted through the tower’s jagged opening.
The newscaster’s voice faded away. Eerie figures fell from the windows of the north building, surreal and horrible. Frightened people dotted the street, too stunned to cry. Their confusion matched my own.
My cell phone rang. I leaped off the floor and raced to my desk, then read the number on the screen. “Hammett, where are you?” For a nanosecond, everything moved in slow motion before rocketing forward. Shattered glass and noise rumbled in the background. Desperate screams almost drowned Hammett’s words. I dug my nails into the desk. “Hammett, I can’t hear you.” I yelled over the chaos that probably surrounded him.
He sniffled. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come to work today.” His words came between stilted breaths.
I gripped the phone so tight my hand ached. I could only imagine what Hammett saw, how he felt at that moment, the thoughts going through his mind. I wanted to say something of comfort, something to encourage him. “Hammett, I can’t live without you. I don’t want to.” The words left my lips and, oh, how I wished I could take them back. They weren’t helpful or what he needed to hear.
He sobbed. Hard. And I’ll never forget the grit in his voice as he gasped and choked out these words. “You’ve made my life so happy . . . I wish I had . . . a million more. Take care of . . . Madilyn. Suzanne . . . and Oliver. I’ll . . . watch over you.”
The line went dead.
“Hammett. Hammett.” Bile burned in my throat. Thunder rolled in the distance, or did the noise reverberate from the television? I raced into the living room and sank to my knees. “Oh, dear God, no!”
***
Part 3 of this original fictional story by eMarie will be posted Friday, September 9, 2022
To leave a comment, please click on the title above, THE PENTHOUSE – A 9/11 STORY (Part 2), and scroll down. Thank you for subscribing and inviting friends to this website. God bless you! 🙂
