Time

Sister of

Still Here,

Blessed,

With my only gift,

Given by God,

Given to share

Given to others

My Blessed example

My sister,

The Gift of Time

I believe in the example God set for this season, of our Savior’s birth, as a time of giving of one’s self. This year my gift to family and friends is so precious to me, that I am having difficulty explaining my reasoning and its value, even to my own family. I hope someday they will understand me better and know that I actually have a new and deeper sense of the Spirit of Christmas.

Until I lost my sister, Joanne, original blogger of this blog I am not sure I realized how time could be so painfully short and priceless. I also am more aware that this is a difficult to package gift. It surely does not come with any warranty or guarantee of anything, either!

My time is difficult to measure for the recipient on the pleasure scale too! Apparently enjoyment is not promised! Patrick probably doesn’t enjoy every minute with Nana and as I help my dad this past week review his eating habits and find new ways to limit his salt intake, he has doubts about the current value of this gift too!

As a matter of fact, I am thinking about weighting out six pounds of water and setting them on his kitchen counter today. He has lost 6 pounds in six days. Do you think he can see sometimes a gift is not having something, like this much water weight, leaning on his failing heart valves?

There is no exchange policy either! It can’t be given back or returned and once it is gone, it is gone. I hope that as I give this most precious gift, it will be a time of thoughtful consideration at least for me of what the Gift is that I am celebrating this Christmas. Thank you dear heavenly Father, for Your Son, for His Birth, His Life, and His Death so that I have Your Eternal Gift of Salvation!

Merry Christmas to All….Re (Nana)

PS, In the Spirit of Joanne and giving time, my sister Margaret has put together and published Joanne's writings so everyone can read her truly inspirational Christian jounal. Here is the link to download or purchase a paper copy-bless you Margaret and Michael too!

http://www.amazon.com/Still-Moments-Collection-Devotionals-ebook/dp/B006FRU9DA

Sister Still Here Celebrates Joanne's Birth Date

Today, Joanne would be 50 years old. A milestone hard to appreciate for many. I wish she was here to celebrate it with us but since she is not physically here, I will eat some candy in her honor!

Although I have several sisters, ( I am one of 5) it was only the last girl-my baby sister Joanne that I had any awareness of our family preparing for her birth. I am not sure how prepared we ever really were but I hope as Jesus's birth celebration draws near, I am learning how to prepare!

A simple memory about Joanne's pending arrival reminds me the importance of sharing good news, especially with family members!

Joanne’s expected birth was pointed out to me by my nun/ teacher who asked me if I was excited about “getting a new brother or sister”?

I was clueless about the pending arrival at that point so I listened as the teacher explained about my mom’s expanding waistline. (This was sometime after school had started in September, I was eight years old).

I remember going home that day, excited to inquire about this new information. I can remember looking up at my mom’s tummy and thinking about what my teacher had said to me. My mom had on dark blue plaid top. She seemed please about my question and I remember her letting me rest my hand on her midsection as she spoke about the baby growing inside of her.

I have wondered after I grew up had she told me before and it hadn't registered? I can see now that might have been the case especially when I see how many times I missed hearing and understanding other important details in my life. I am blessed that when God wanted me to know about Him, he marked it with very impressive events to catch my attention. I wish sometimes I was not so slow with my progress of getting to know Jesus. I would want to tell Joanne how key she was in my journey, but if Joanne hadn't shown me how to depend on God in her final days, I am not sure where I would be now, surly things would be different, but it is hard to know if it could be "better".

I think back to the day of learning about Joanne and I remember telling the nun we already “had” a baby as Margaret was less than two years old at the time and mom still called her “baby”.

I think there was some explaining from my mom about how big Margaret was, how she could walk and say little words so she was not going to be a "baby" much longer . Margaret was only 16-18 months old, clearly deciding who is a baby and for how long infancy lasts is relevant to .

It may have been the same day or several days or weeks later I remember her showing me the bassenet and explaining that was where the baby would sleep. I wondered later if I was asking about the arrangements because even as little as I was I do think I was aware that we lived in a very small two bedroom, one bathroom house.

Now, I particularly enjoy remembering and talking about any specific occasion. Please share any of your favorite times with Joanne. I know several of us sister’s recall the “famous to all that were involved, car trip” but surely there are many others as Joanne had so many friends!

My Secret Place

Where are the words that are in my heart?

Why are they hiding when I want to start,

To let you know I’ve received a gift?

God gave me a secret place to go,

With a reason to pray, that only I know.

The place is my darkened room at night,

When things go bad and nothing is right.

It’s a lonesome place you’d probably say,

But a perfect place to kneel and pray.

God hears my woes and my silly cries,

And I hear Him say “Child dry your eyes”

How could I forget this gift that He gave,

His Son crucified so I could be saved?

Then all of a sudden my doubts disappeared

All of my worries and all of my tears.

Don’t keep your worries in a secret place

Invite God in and accept His grace.

God knows your worries, doubts, and fears

So give them to Him-I’ve done it for years

My secret place is a secret no more.

Jesus has my heart and the guilt I wore!

J.J. Bowman

I was gifted with this poem over the weekend as I shared my faith and heart

with my neighbor / friend, Joyce. I wanted to somehow share and celebrate Joanne’s gift to me, not by being my baby sister, but as a Christian woman of strong faith. She entered this world 50 years ago today!

Sistering 101 Lessons from Joanne

It is true but impossible to put into words the blessing it is to have sisters. I am more fortunate than some to feel so blessed because of so many people in my life, but it all began with my sisters.

I have been blessed at the birth of each of my 4 sisters. They have taught me the most about being a friend. An with those lessons I hope I have shared the blessing with my friends, relatives and an amazing extended family.

So many of you have become an important part of each of our lives. I myself have found some special friends as close as next door and one as far as Denver. I am most thankful that Love has such an amazing reach!

We don't know the future and we can't change the past but Joanne use to try and explain the importance of living in the present and it being God's Present. I can barely grasp much less truly focus on the absolute truth of that important lesson but I will try this minute and say how blessed I feel to have been taught what love is and to have experienced so much-thank you! Ma (Re)

Be faithful and vigilant!

by Jean Leek, One of Joanne's Sisters Still Here

posted by RE/ MaryAnn, who cherishes her sister Jean dearly. I know we are as helpless as the baby squirrel in the story but I also know we are so fully blessed to be in His hands! (Know that if my arm reached as far as my heart does, it would be around your neck just like these sisters!) Blessings as you read....

The summer of twenty-eleven seemed different to me than others, especially in central Arkansas. Headlines reported thousands of birds tumbling from the sky into neighborhoods. Broadcasts reported scores of dead fish washing ashore along the river. National news included reports of hundreds of small earthquakes centered in a single county. Storms would seem to appear from nowhere and obliterate towns from the tornadoes they produced and the floods which followed. Extended periods of oppressive heat compared Ft. Smith, Arkansas, to Death Valley.

The summer of twenty-eleven also seemed different within the boundaries of “ordinary” within our family. We seemed to be dealing with unusual circumstances unique to any other time.

We seemed to keep one vehicle operational at a time, parking the other in the driveway until funds were available for repair. Undeniably one would stop working just as one was repaired. I walked to and from the scanty job at McDonald’s two miles away. If I needed to go any farther, arrangements were made to ride with another.

One of those summer days I had to attend to details in downtown Little Rock. I was able to locate transportation there, but I would need to wait a few hours for a ride home at the end of the day. When my business was complete, I walked around the downtown area near the Old Statehouse and the Peabody Hotel.

Noticing the dampness in my hair and on my clothing from perspiration, I realized I was standing outside the Pulaski County Courthouse, built in mid to late 1800s. While the building seemed rich with history, it also seemed rich with air-conditioning. No purchase necessary and admission was free.

After passing through security, I viewed dockets posted outside courtrooms and entered the gallery to observe the proceedings in several cases before the courts. As 4:30 approached, the court sessions adjourned, the prosecutors, defendants and attorneys went home and the security guards systematically locked and protected the building.

My ride home had not yet arrived, so I located a very small park across the street with a few benches, and decided it would be a good place to spend the remaining time.

As I sat down, I thought about the park bench which had been dedicated to my youngest sister in St. Louis. I offered a prayer and wondered if this bench, where I was resting, was somehow “related” to her bench.

While my thoughts were wandering, I saw some movement in the well-trimmed grass near a large tree. I decided it must be a leaf moving, and then noticed the air was still and without a breeze. I waited a few moments, and recognized the movement again. Curiosity got the better of me and I left the bench to get closer.

Looking down into the grass, I saw a very small squirrel. It seemed very young, only a few inches in length with its eyes slightly bulging and still closed. Only a small amount of light colored hair covered its chest, and none of it had reached its tail. The tiny one resembled a gerbil more than a squirrel.

As I watched the small and shallow breaths, and an occasional tail twitch, I wanted to pick up this tiny creature and somehow care for it. Knowing I had no experience or understanding in nurturing a squirrel, I decided to let nature take its course. I returned to my bench.

A mother’s heart is sometimes predictable in the way it cares, protects and defends everything too young and too small. Watching this small life struggle, the sadness washed over me.

I was reminded how fragile life is for some. I considered my ignorance of God’s plan, and how all life is given as a special gift. The Children’s Hospital across the way has other small and fragile life within its walls. Many of those children will be healed by God’s special graces, and others will be called to His home with His gift of mercy to guide them.

I thought of how helpless we can feel as a witness to life, knowing that all outcomes are not under our influence, but are according to His plan. And while painful to abide by, each fragile life has a purpose and a blessing if we will just open our eyes to see. We seem to become routine and procedural in our duty to procure, nurture and defend a life which is entrusted to our care. All life is extraordinary. Even the life of the tiny squirrel is extraordinary.

Reminded that God is merciful, I watched the movements of the tiny squirrel become less frequent and slow. Continuing in sadness, I helplessly monitored as the little life before me disappeared. I wondered if the sole purpose of this event was to observe and see a new perspective on a smaller scale than my own life.

More than ten minutes had passed since I noticed movement.

Another squirrel approached from the very end of the grassy area. It crossed the lawn and scurried up the large tree. A few moments later, the squirrel darted down the tree, fidgeting and frantic. It must be the mama of the tiny one in the grass. It was clear she was searching for her baby.

She was a brave mama, as she could sense I was there but continued in her search. She began separating blades of grass until she came upon her tiny one. I felt sadness that she soon would feel the ultimate loss.

I thought of Luke:

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” - Luke15:4(NIV)

I observed as she came upon her tiny one among the blades of grass. I wondered what she would do or think. Do squirrels think?

First, the mama struck the baby once with her front right paw. Astonished at the reaction, I thought perhaps she was ensuring that the tiny one was gone.

Then in a flash, she used both front paws and struck the baby again, a bit more forcefully. Not seeing any movement from the bench, I watched as the mama squirrel picked up the baby and flipped it over a couple times and put it back in the grass. Then she picked the baby up again, and this time held it upside down by the tail, as though to let the blood return to the tiny one’s head. She flipped it a couple of more times and laid it back in the grass.

The tiny squirrel began to flinch and move. I was sure I had just witnessed some sort of “squirrel CPR” as the mama continued her flipping ritual on her baby. More and more movement was seen from the tiny one.

Soon, mama picked up her baby, like a cat carries her kittens. She carried the tiny squirrel halfway up the tree and paused to regain her hold as the baby continued additional and extra movement.

Elated, I watched as mama climbed high in the tree and returned the baby to the nest.

For a few minutes I could not see any activity. Then I saw the mama squirrel return halfway down the tree to an outstretched branch. She then laid spread out with all four legs on either side of the branch, and her tummy and chin laying flat on the limb.

She stayed in that position for a while. I imagined she was exhausted.

The images of the events played back in my thoughts. Again, I felt every emotion. I felt a mother’s heart for the love of a child. I felt the sadness at an ultimate loss. I felt the hopefulness of searching for a lost one. I felt elation at the discovery and confirmation that a life was found and renewed. And I felt the exhaustion of completing a mission and persevering. I felt thankfulness and gratitude.

I felt confirmation of the assurance Jesus provides through His care and His inexhaustible love for all creatures. He will take care of my family, just as He takes care of the sparrows and the squirrels. There was no other explanation.

Be faithful and vigilant!

Jean, A Sister Still Here (Joanne's Sister In Arkansas

Copyright © 2011 – All rights reserved – Jean M. Leek

All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotation in critical reviews or articles, without prior written permission of Jean M. Leek.

Important: The information contained in this document may contain information which is confidential in nature, private, or protected from disclosure. You are advised that any dissemination, distribution or copying, or the taking of any action based on the contents of this information, without written permission, and any communication of the contents is strictly prohibited. Any written requests may be sent by facsimile transmission to (501) 851-4539, or mail to: Jean Leek, Post Office Box 13153, Maumelle, Arkansas, 72113. Thank you.

A Sister Still Here

I am with the humble joy in knowing my purpose in life is to be evident in my Christian faith, a sister, still here.

With a fullness of heart but less than perfect understanding in God's ways and with His love that reaches beyond my own arms, I know He makes all things good in this imperfect world.

(Romans 8:28)

Ecclesiastes 3:11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time ...I am reaching out with my many limitations to be as He desires.

Thank you Michael for allowing me to add posts to Joanne's blog site and contribute as I feel called to share the many "Be Still Moments" as they rest on my heart so that The Story, His Story, is told. She is "still here" in our hearts re-minding me to continue to pray.

I have witnessed with my own eyes and felt in my heart what it means to know Jesus and I am praying as I am "Still", blogging on this Walk, to trust Him as I follow my baby sister, Joanne (Cook) Sampl's path...

Forever

's Sister,

Forever Saved....Re

My Lovely Wife

On August 20th I celebrated the two year mark of Joanne going onto heaven. She is still in my thoughts every day. I know she touched the lives of many people for Christ and is still doing that with this blog. I can't wait until I get to Heaven myself to see the Master and hear him say "Well done, good and faithful servant". After that I am looking forward to seeing Joanne once again.

Michael Sampl