A BOUQUET FOR MY READERS

Our summer weather this year has been spasmodic, to say the least, but flowers in our gardens seem to be flourishing. I share some of the July beauties from my garden with followers of Wrights Lane today. What a wonderful world we live in. The earth truly smiles through flowers.

ROSES FOR ME IN DECEMBER

If you ever wondered why I produce Wrights Lane, the following comment in response to my "One Couple's Journey With Cancer" site will answer that question. Certainly, for me, it makes everything worthwhile. I hope it is not construed as self-serving.

"Thank you for your bittersweet story of love, courage, devotion and endurance. I found this site quite by chance as my eyes captured the word "cancer".

"My 28-year-old daughter is fighting cancer too. She is married with two small babies and our faith in God is still moving mountains. I shall include you in my prayers. You and Anne had that once-in-a-lifetime kind of marriage. Such devotion; such love! I could almost feel it.

"May God continue to comfort and guide you. I read somewhere that 'God gave us memories so that we could have roses in December.' May you have roses in December. God less you..."

--Hevinlee Melton

Apropos the post below, I add "Hallelujah!"

Hevinlee herself has authored a book on child abuse and I will report more on that in Wrights Lane at a future date. Meantime, please join me in praying for her daughter and the two babies who need their young mother.

HALLELUJAH FOR OUR MERCIES

I received a message from a friend the other day. She was expressing delight in how things had developed in her life in the recent past and ended her update with the word "Hallelujah!"

Most of us know that Hallelujah means, "Praise ye the Lord"; and we all can thank God for the wonderful blessings in our life. But how few of us put a Hallelujah to the record of our common mercies!

It strikes me that it would be a good idea sometimes to analyse our pleasures and to seriously consider the state of our affections. What about asking this one question in the midst of every enjoyment: "Can I put up a hearty Hallelujah at the end of it?"

SUNSHINE MAKES US SMILE

"Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine, filling my life with glory Divine..."

We are all lovers of sunshine. The eyes brighten while gazing at the natural beauty of a sunlit scene. That warm beam of heavenly light has penetrated our very heart and made us feel glad to be alive. I am looking forward to much more of it this summer if, in fact, summer-type weather comes to stay with us for more than a day or two at a time.

But you know, there is another kind of sunshine that we all love. Is there not someone in your life whose smile is a brighter and dearer sunbeam to you than the brightest ray that gladdens the earth on a summer's day? That would be the smile of some dear being whose every thought is blended with our own and without which this would be a very gloomy world indeed.

Some time ago I wrote a post in Wrights Lane about the merits of a smile and, not so coincidentally, I end my latest book on that very subject. Like sunshine, a smile truly brightens our day.

There is yet another kind of sunshine that is in store for us -- an eternal kind of sunshine that no night shall ever cover over. The last cloud in the valley of the shadow of death will break away before the dawning of eternal daylight, and everlasting sunshine, for every one of us. It has been expressly written, that: "There shall be no night there."

May the clouds and storms of this life, then, be borne with patient and joyful anticipation...And a "sunny" smile!

LOOK FOR THE FINGER-POST

A couple of items ago I tested readers' knowledge and memory of "whetstones". Time now for another test.

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What do you know about "finger-posts"?

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Well, I've given you another clue in the accompanying illustration.

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A finger-post is just that-- a post with a sign, often shaped like a pointing finger or hand, indicating a direction. We find records of finger-posts dating back to the 16th century.

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Some time ago, a fellow affectionately known as "Old Humphrey" (how old was he?..about as old as me!) was travelling in a strange neighbourhood when he came to a place in the road where it branched off in opposite directions. Humphrey immediately slowed down his vehicle, not knowing how to proceed.

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It was indeed a perplexing situation, because taking the wrong road would have caused Humphrey great inconvenience, and his gas gage was hovering on the empty mark. Suddenly he spotted a finger-post which at first glance had escaped his view. A closer look revealed the left arm of the post pointing towards two distant towns, neither of which he wanted to visit.
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Much to his dismay, the opposite arm had been broken off. Ever the optimist, Humphrey took heart in thinking to himself: "Well, now at least, I know very well the road I am not going to take."

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It is not uncommon for any of us to reach a fork in the road of life. Our built-in finger-posts more often than not point in two directions -- right and wrong. Sometimes, as in the Old Humphrey story, the "right" finger is broken off, but we know very well the road we should not take.

The decision on what direction we take is always ours to make. If we choose the wrong road we might not have enough gas to get back.

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Consider well the finger-post!

TRY A LITTLE KINDNESS!

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There are few hearts so hard, few spirits so churlish, as not to be affected by kindness. Think about it...a kind thought is influential, a kind word is encouraging, and a kind deed is at all times a blessing.

Many years ago, a man spoke a few kind words to a young woman who was in ill health. It was not an overly profound utterance, but as the years rolled along the woman never forgot the man's words. On her death bed, in fact, she expressed an earnest desire to see the man again if he was still alive.

The man was located and summoned directly. When he entered the hospital room, the woman wasted no time in explaining that the words he had spoken when she was unwell many years before had led her to believe that he would be willing to render another deed of kindness in her dying hour.

She said that something was laying heavily on her mind. It seems that she had for some time been at variance with a friend who had judged her unfairly and this had resulted in unresolved, hard feelings between the two. To forgive and be forgiven, and to die in peace with her estranged friend, was the desire of her soul.

The man said he would see what he could do to fulfill her wish and within hours he was able to entice the friend to the dying woman's hospital bed.

The two old friends wept, prayed and forgave each other. In a few days, with a mind impressed with a sense of abundant mercy, the woman died in the presence of her reconciled friend, calmly and confidently committing her spirit into the hands of her Redeemer.

This is a rather simple story about several acts of kindness that had a major impact on a sick woman's life. The sad part is that she waited until her last hours were numbered to resolve the issue that was so troubling to her. But how many a death has been rendered unhappy because a dispute and associated unkindness was left unresolved?

Perhaps we should take a review of our own past lives. It is never too late to atone for the manifold acts of unkindness that we might find there. We can obtain peace of mind and clarity with mankind if we are mindful of the amazing grace that pardons us.

A scripture passage comes to mind: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which spitefully use you and persecute you."

LET'S ALL USE A WHETSTONE IN LIFE

Okay young people, here's a question for you. What is a whetstone?

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Of course I gave you a clue by running the attached photo of two near 100-year-old whetstones used by my father to sharpen his barbering scissors and razors some 60 and 70 years ago. I'm not sure if many barbers sharpen their own tools today, straight razors being almost a thing of the past.

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Though it is sometimes mistaken as a reference to the water often used to lubricate such stones, the word "whetstone" is a compound word formed with the word "whet", which means to sharpen a blade, not the word "wet".

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Whetstones are almost as old as time itself. History tells us that ancient warriors of contending armies would retire to sharpen their swords for renewed combat, after they had blunted them so much in hewing down their enemies as to render them unserviceable. Large stones or boulders that show signs of wear on all sides, have been found close to battle grounds giving evidence of not just soldiers but whole communities shapening, or edging, tools there.

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Brutal hand-to-hand combat by sword was a terrible thing and one shutters to think or how those old warriors who lived in strife and contention would take such trouble to sharpen their swords in order to inflict human injury and death over and over again.

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I've been thinking about whetstones for some unknown reason and it occurs to me that metaphorically we should look more closely to our own sharpening devices where we may rub up and renew our affections toward others. Unlike those soldiers hundreds of years ago, we can "put an edge" to our zeal for life and sharpen our desires and convictions after every good word and deed.

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Is it too dull an idea to suggest that the old whetstone still has application in our lives today?

WE CAN ATTACH BROKEN THREADS

Consider this story from the imagination.

A little girl, about four years of age, came crying to her mother as if her heart was breaking. She had been sitting very quietly for some time on a little stool in her bedroom, sewing a piece of cloth from her doll kit for practice just as her mommy had shown her.

When her mother inquired about the cause of her distress, the small one reluctantly revealed that it was a broken thread. She seemed overwhelmed with the conviction that all her work was in vain.

"Did you think, sweetie, that I could not fasten it together again for you?" asked the mother, wiping the streaming tears from her daughter's flushed cheeks. "Yes," sobbed the child.

"Oh! but I can in a minute," replied the mother. "See, just like that!" she exclaimed with a few quick twists of the needle and thread.

When you stop to think about it, how often have we been like that little girl -- depressed at a particular twist of fate? How often have we poured out our grief with, as it were, a broken thread in our hand not considering how easy it would be to reattach it with a little faith and application -- how easy it would be, likewise, to ask our Heavenly creator to heal all the broken hearts of His children when they cry.

SNUB BEGAN A BEAUTIFUL RELATIONSHIP

KEN'S LETTER BROKE THE ICE

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One of my soon-to-be published books will be entitled Dresden Life Remembered. In putting this book together I keep coming up with little long-forgotten gems from the past.

I have written extensively about my mother and father and their love affair which began in their teens. This evening I came across an old weathered envelope bearing a two-cent stamp and postmarked July 3., 1918. It was addressed to Miss Grace Perry, Town (which meant it was mailed in Dresden for general delivery/pickup). Everybody knew everybody in town and street addresses were unnecessary, in fact houses were not even numbered in those days.

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The contents of the envelope are just too priceless to keep to myself. Or at least I think so anyway.

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The years were stripped away as I removed a neatly folded letter and immediately recognized my father Ken's hand writing. By means of introduction, I will simply reveal that my father was 19 years old at the time and my mother would have turned 16 within days of receiving the letter on or about July 4Th. Here are Ken's heart-wrenching words as only he could write them.

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Dresden, July 2nd./18

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Dear Friend:

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No doubt you will be somewhat surprised, perhaps annoyed, to hear from me.

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I think I understand thoroughly your wish. It is needless for me to state it, but that is not what I am writing about.

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I have spoken to you several times lately and you never let on you saw me. This leads me to think I must have done you some wrong and made you "sore" at me. I can't think what that might be as I did not do it intentionally. I am not trying to ignore (?) nor am I asking you to speak to me if you don't want to.

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What I do wish is that you would be kind enough to tell me what I have done. I really would like to know, perhaps just for curiosity sake.

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Hoping you will favour me with a reply.

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I am

your friend.

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K. Wright

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Note: I do not know how my mother responded, but she must have communicated favourably in one way or another. I am living proof of that. As it turned out, Grace and Ken never had any other boy friend or girl friend. Amazingly they had a very long courtship, marrying 15 years after my dad wrote his letter. I love sharing stories like this!