Celebrating All Those Little Things

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Last week I had to go to the dentist again. Something I have taken for granted since I was 8 years old. It all goes back to the day I first met the power of the Santa Ana winds; also known as the "devil winds." I was a novice Californian, having only left the very different weather of Indiana a few short months before. I ran the half block up the hill from Rinaldi Street School to our brand new ranch home. Each front yard dropped down a terrace from the street level. The snapping of the US flag flying above our school meant nothing as I headed home for lunch with Mom and my sister, Pam.

I kept pushing my skirt down as the wind tried to flip it up over my head. By the time I reached the top of our terrace, the 7 stairs that led down into our yard looked like nothing. But anyone who has experienced these winds know that the occasional gust may be over 60 m.p.h. I saw my sister's smiling face watching for me from the family room window, headed down the stairs and found myself flat at the bottom. Before I could stand back up, Mom and Pam were by my side helping me. I didn't realize I was bleeding. As they checked me over for injuries, pretty soon I learned that the devil winds had just destroyed my brand-new, 2 front teeth.

Lunch and returning to school that day were out of the question. After settling me down on my bed to rest, Mom went to work calling all the neighbors for recommendations for a dentist. I will always be thankful for Mrs. Gates telling Mom about Dr, Sherman. He made room in that afternoon's schedule and he reassured me that he could fix those broken teeth before I ever left his office that day! What a savior of my dignity and hero in my eyes. And good to his word, I left the office with my broken teeth covered in temporary caps measured just to fit me. I would not have to return to school with a broken smile, my biggest concern.

And mostly ever since Dr. Sherman fixed my smile, I never even give those capped front teeth a second thought. Until I awoke from a medical procedure and found one of those two caps floating around in my mouth. So easy to forget how important this small cosmetic fix is until it falls out of place! Over half a century after that day, Dr. Sherman's smiles and reassurances tumbled back into my memory.

A different hero came to my rescue this time in the form of my tall, dark and handsome husband who stopped in a local pharmacy and brought me some temporary dental glue to adhere my unbroken cap back into place. I still had to consult with my current dentist for a more permanent fix after the Labor Day holiday passed, but that tube of glue made such a difference for several days. And once she replaced the wobbly temporary fix with permanent dental glue, I quickly forgot about the caps all over again. Took for granted my ability to bite into whatever I was eating several times per day. And all this reminded me how easily we humans take for granted so many things, important things that make a difference in our lives, things that we should think a bit longer and more appreciatively about. You know, grateful for our blessings, counting our blessings, being grateful for our blessings.



So now I want to ask you, are you grateful for all the many blessings you have in your life?
Do you tell the important people in your life how much you appreciate them? Have you given thought to thanking God for the provision provided to you each and every day, your very breath, the wonders of the world surrounding you, for sending His Son, Jesus, to save you and me on the cross? Oh yeah, we humans also forget about all the Lord does for us in this life. So wherever you are in your life, whether good times or challenging times, remember that you have so very many blessings in your life that it would be hard for you even to think of them all. So take a moment and celebrate all the little things that make your life worthwhile! Allowing gratitude to take hold in your life will help you weather every storm and make the most of every day!

Opening the Magic Box

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Do you remember it? The waxy smell when you cracked it open that first time. Your eyes filled with colors unimagined begging you to try them on crisp white paper just to see them better. That wonderful teacher who demanded the big, 64-color box with the sharpener and a real gold and silver crayon. For me, it happened at the beginning of school each fall. Holding the precious recommendations of school supplies, inevitably a new box of crayons headed the list of needed items. Some years, only 8 or maybe 24 crayons might be required, but I could count on a new box of fresh, unbroken crayons.

Brand new set of 108 crayons!

Opening that box, I tried to keep the brand new smell, look, feel to those colors. I wanted to always return one of those soldiers to the position assigned by Crayola. Each vibrant shade and hue of the rainbow had a proper place in the box. Alas, it never lasted. Somewhere along the line, I needed more than one precious stick at a time. Where does this one go? How do I realign them to return to their proper comrades? Ah well, rearrange them now according to my preference, all the blues together, greens grouped nearby, purples near reds, oranges with yellows on the other side, and a white and black along the edge, easy to find.

Now to see what I could do with these magical tools that could transport me beyond the walls of the schoolroom. The Mediterranean Sea took on a deep blue hue, the boot of Italy green and dangling dangerously down into the water, France floating serenely above the sea with a combo of brown mountains and green valleys, Spain and Portugal taking up the position to the west leading temptingly out to the Atlantic Ocean...Or perhaps my glance might take me out the window into the mountains surrounding the San Fernando Valley. My picture always showed the splendor of those nearby hills in purple and blue hues. No amount of arguing could convince me to use an ordinary shade of brown or even green. My mountains shouted out to be painted in brilliant colors. Okay, so I didn't get an A in art, but I had a good time demonstrating my perspective on the subject.

Those magic boxes carried dreams inside, dreams of childhood, dreams of fame, dreams of acknowledgement of our small voices calling to a much larger world. No, though I loved my crayons, visual arts didn't work out for me. Instead I employ words to transport you to another time and place. I celebrate that words can be as vibrant and alive as the most fabulous of reds, the verdant greens, the peaceful blues.

But no matter what your medium might be, visual, fine or folk; writing, short or novel length; singing, gospel or modern, express that element in your soul you wish to share with the world. Don't critique yourself, just follow where the Spirit leads you. Some art explores the beautiful and easy, some brave ones look into our darker sides in a effort to illuminate that other part of the world. Either way, only you can sing your song, so trust it and celebrate that voice the good Lord gave you. By opening that magic box of insight inside you, you will make this world a better place to be because of you.