You Are Invited!

            You are invited to travel back in time. Here! Sit beside me as we ride in our Chevy station wagon to the S&H Green Stamp Redemption Center.

            We’ve waited for this moment forever (in kid time). Mom saved those precious stamps in our kitchen junk drawer for who knows how long. And who had the job of licking those babies and putting them in their proper face-value frames on each page of the specially designed S&H Green Stamp books?

            Me! Yes, I was the one with the greenish-colored tongue. No problem though! I loved that duty because, at the end of those eons of months (maybe years) we dressed up for our trip to the next town, parked in front of that store, went in, and gazed at the real-life prizes we “won” which, up until now, we only dreamed of as we flipped through the S&H catalog, kept at home.

            Inside the Green Stamp Redemption Center were tables set up with beautiful displays. Those now real items—until now only flat images on pages at home—came to life. WE were going to purchase something amazing—something my many-times, discolored tongue played a part in making possible.

            Wow! Ready to redeem our stamp books! What would we choose? Toys, jewelry, dishes, a clock radio, small kitchen appliances, furnishings?

            Mom chose a blender. We’d never had one of those. It seemed all the saving up of those stamps from our grocery shopping and gas-buying disappeared so quickly when we redeemed them for one of these coveted items.

            But somehow the wonder of it all stayed with this then young girl who only wished for—oh, maybe a clock radio one day. But that was too many green stamp dreams away.

            I do remember, though, when my sister saved enough to buy a small, beautifully styled two-shelf bookcase. THAT was the ultimate purchase! She’d leave for college soon, and that bookcase traveled with her for quite some years after graduation.

            Green stamps have come and gone, but the memories of store check-out girls handing Mom her “earnings,” licking those wonders and placing them carefully in their appropriate place, and taking them to the redemption center? They remain.

            Now we travel on—much, much further back in time.

            You are invited to another place of redemption. This one displays no beauty. In fact, it’s dingy, dirty, uninviting, messy beyond belief. For this one you bring nothing. No stamps, no money, not even your good works will do. Then why go there?

            Because the Prize here is better than anything you could ever possibly imagine winning from an S&H Green Stamp Redemption Center or anywhere else, for that matter. You can’t even earn this Prize at all. It’s not for sale.

            Travel down the dirty city street, follow the drops of sweat and blood falling from One Whose body is literally shredded from the beatings He’s endured. For, at the end of this journey, you’ll find He’s done this with your prize in mind.

            Yes, He will die. Must die, but that’s the price. And hope of obtaining your prize? No line. No wait. No saving up. Only your need to drop at the foot of the cross bearing Jesus, the Son of God—Savior of the world. Your Savior, if you accept His invitation because…

            In only three days He will rise again and the gate to your price-paid prize will open wide for anyone who wants it—eternal life. Heaven!

            You are invited! Come as you are. No price to pay because Jesus already purchased your salvation with His Blood. All you need bring is your baggage of sin, kept in the junk-drawer of your broken life.

            Dump that burden. You don’t need it. You can be free.

            The choice is up to you. S&H—Salvation & Heaven! There’s no greater prize anywhere!

            I’ve made this trip, left my sin burden, and claimed my prize. Redeemed once and for all! Stamped & sealed by God’s Holy Spirit! Awaiting my final prize!

            If you’ve already done this also, then you know how wonderful this redemption is along with no end to the many times you can visit with the Savior, your Redeemer, from that moment on.           

 

There’s Room at the Cross for You (by Ira Stamphill)

There's Room At The Cross - SMS Men's Chorus (youtube.com)

 

#youareinvited #S&Hgreenstamps #redemptioncenter #prize #crucifiction #resurrention #salvationfreegift #Heaven

Spitting Llamas & This Son of Ours

 

            Min, our lives-in-with-us son with challenges, accompanied us to a medical appointment on a day we couldn’t provide him with a caregiver locally.

            We told him, “We’ll make it worth your while and take you to the Crazy Llama Café.”

            “What do they sell there?”

            “All kinds of coffee specialties,” I said, “but I’m sure they’ll have something you like. I think they have baked goodies. We’ve only been through the drive-thru, but we’ll go inside today because we’ve got extra time before my appointment.”

            “Do they really have llamas?” he asked, being an avid lover of all-things-animal.

            “Well, I suppose they’d have at least one.” I smiled. “A crazy one maybe?”

            Brian pulled into the café lot and parked the car. We hugged our coats around us on this bitter, cold day.

            “Llamas spit, you know,” Min said as he carefully treaded up the icy walkway to the door. “Do you think they spit on the floor?”

            I laughed. “Hmm, maybe. Better watch where you walk in there.”

            Inside he looked down and about, surmising it was safe.

            It was a quaint shop, streamlined and stylish with hand-thrown ceramic Crazy Llama mugs lined up for sale.

            “May I help you,” a coffee barista called from behind the counter.

            Min turned to me, looking a bit confused. “I thought monks worked here.”

            “What gave you that idea?” I asked, knowing full well Min can come up with rather unusual and often creative (ahem) ideas.

            “Don’t they have something to do with llamas?”

            “You’re confusing llamas with dalai lama, I guess,” I said in a hushed tone.

            “Oh. Maybe monks just run coffee shops in Asia.”

            “I doubt they have jobs outside their…”

            “…monastaries?” Min interrupted.

            “Right.”

            Brian and I ordered an uncomplicated coffee and decided we’d split a cinnamon bun.

            Min chose a large chocolate chip cookie. Not noticing a beverage choice he liked, he passed on that.

            We sat at a small café-style table and noted the you-can’t-miss-those large, artsy photographed images on canvas of llamas, spaced on the walls surrounding us.

            “I like the llama pictures,” Min said between bites of his cookie with crumbs about his lips. “Do those llamas spit?”

            “Only in the drinks,” I said with a snicker. I looked over the menu board again. “Oh, they have hot cocoa. Want one of those?”

            Min scrunched his eyebrows and glared. “No thank you!”

            Softish ’80’s music played, setting the mood even more.

            I commented, “Nice music. Not blaring or foul.”

            “It’s nor,” Min said.

            I bobbed my head back, “It’s what?”

            “Nor.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            Brian chimed in. “He means noir. A style.”

            “That’s actually a ‘thing?’”

            “Yes,” said my husband, shaking his head a bit over this bizarre conversation, then going back to his llama-spit-free coffee.

            (I may be the writer in the family, but he’s the speller and wordsmith, with a larger vocabulary than mine any day of the week. Apparently, our son is in his dad’s league too with his addition of “noir.”)

            Min chimed in. “Noir is like a guy playing saxophone in a window and the whole thing is black and white. You know, like movies made from black and white film and very serious. Dah-dah-dah,” he sang monotoned in a low, saxaphony way.

            I couldn’t help but laugh! “Oh my! You just know so much about so many things. You’re a wonder!”

            “It’s what makes me special.” He said, smiled, and finished eating his cookie in his very dry mouth.

             Oh, Min, there’s so much about you that makes you special! Okay. You have a special needs label, but you’re more than what education and society have placed on you. And, even though you are child-like in almost all your ways, you’re funny, good (MOST of the time), helpful, kind. You have the heart of a servant, and perhaps that’s what makes us most proud.

            So, here we are in your birthday month! The big 31! Another birthday we never dreamed you’d reach with the physical challenges your body carries. Yet God has granted you these days and ordained them for His purpose as you’ve given your heart and life to Him.

            You’re a jewel in God’s Crown, a gem showing forth His Glory—in your own special way. Yes, that’s so very special too!

            Blessed happy birthday to you, you “crazy non-spitting (at least we hope not), very classy, noir (maybe—maybe not) llama-and-every-other-type-animal lover—except maybe geese! (But that’s another story.)

                                                                      With love always,

                                                                       Dad & Mom

 

When He cometh, when He cometh to make up His jewels,

All His jewels, precious jewels, His loved and His own.

 

(Refrain) Like the stars of the morning, His bright crown adorning,

They shall shine in their beauty, bright gems for His crown.

 

He will gather, He will gather the gems for His kingdom;

All the pure ones, all the bright ones, His loved and His own. (Refrain)

 

Little children, little children, who love their Redeemer,

Are the jewels, precious jewels, His loved and His own.

 

(Refrain) Like the stars of the morning, His bright crown adorning,

They shall shine in their beauty, bright gems for His crown.

 

(from the hymn When He Cometh by William O. Cushing, 1856, public domain)

#llamas #coffee #specialneeds #birthday #purpose #Godsgem