The Bible...Comfort in Troubled Times

I have a thoughtful and sad heart today. We traveled to Monroe, Louisiana yesterday to help sing at the funeral of a friend. It is a sobering thing to see a body lying in a casket, but this man had been a member of the Lord’s church for a lot of years. Even though leukemia took him away at the age of 62, he remained faithful to the end. Matthew chapter 24, verse 13 reads, But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.
Our founding fathers knew the importance of keeping God in our lives. This seems to have escaped our leaders and a big percentage of society today. Families who know not God, pass this on to their offspring. Sometimes it’s a life of spiritual indifference, or a morally corrupt life. When this lifestyle reigns throughout a land, read what God says in Hosea 4, verses 1 through 6.
Below are some happenings leading up to the establishment of The Lord’s Church.
ST. JOHN chapter 19 describes The Crucifixion and Burial of Jesus.
Chapter 20 The Resurrection of Jesus.
Chapter 21 The Risen Jesus Appears to His Disciples. Verses 19 through 23 is where Jesus breathes on his disciples and they receive the Holy Ghost.
Acts Chapter 1, Jesus ascends to Heaven.
Acts Chapter 2, Peter’s Sermon on the Day of Pentecost. Read verses 38 through 47 where The Church of Christ was established. Keep in mind that church doesn’t mean a building, but people who have obeyed the gospel and been baptized into The Lord’s Church for the remission of their sins. Only the Lord can add you to His church.
Yours in Christ,
Frances Bennett

I Painted and Thought.....

I Painted and Thought…..
I had some time to reflect as I painted a mural in a restaurant this week. The scene was a pair of mallard ducks, gently landing in a marsh filled with cattails. How peaceful. The anniversary of 9/11 has given us a refresher course lately. I was reminded again of the scene that played on my computer screen in 2001 during the weeks following the terrorist attack on our nation. Day after day we saw people jumping. The figure of a man falling still haunts me, his back facing the concrete, legs and arms reaching upward as he plummeted to earth. I’ll never forget that he wore a white shirt and dark pants. I found myself looking for him during all the replay of the past week.
Our leaders and our president should have to watch this scene every day before they make decisions regarding terrorists countries. The terrorists are twisted in their thinking, and they can’t be dealt with as normal human beings. Frantic that we won’t always be politically correct, the good old USA allowed them to learn to fly over here. They build mosques, and we’re not allowed to carry a bible in some countries. Our leaders have allowed God to be taken out of the class room, and one person who is an atheist can file a lawsuit and our leaders cave. I wonder how much longer God will put up with this? Make no mistake about it, He is in control. The things we witnessed on 9/11, as horrible as they were, are just a minute drop in the bucket to what it will be like at the end of time. Some of those victims died unprepared for eternity.
The bible tells us what we must do to be saved. I belong to the Church of Christ, the church Jesus died to establish. I plan to blog about this, hopefully every week. I will quote chapter and verse. If you argue with the bible, then this study is not for you. God Bless! See you in a few days.
Yours in Christ,
Frances Bennett

A Mother's Voice on Dealing With Epilepsy

Being an artist and a writer, I was very interested to hear that art is good therapy for wounded soldiers. Then my thoughts went to the fact that probably a lot of soldiers with head wounds are dealing with seizures, as are their families. The person having the seizures has the worst end of it, but Dear God, let's don't leave out the families. They all wait for the shoe to drop, they usually just don't know when. Our oldest son is handicapped and has suffered from epilepsy for the past 53 years. In spite of this, with our help, he ran a country grocery store for 31 years. In hopes of helping others, I would like to list some things that I've found to be helpful to the patient, the care-giver, and the doctor.
1. KEEP RECORDS.
I've filled several composition books with dates and types of episodes. The doctor was very appreciative when it came time to go to a seizure clinic in New Orleans to try and pinpoint the exact location the seizures were coming from. I heard him comment, "Very good records. Very Good."
2. REACTION TO MEDICINES.
Write down how the mental state seems to be on certain medicines. For instance, is the gate more unbalanced, or the tongue extra thick. Do they try to walk in one direction and go another? If so, the doctor may need to adjust the meds or change it completely. He will appreciate your information on this. A lot of his decisions are based on your information. He's with the patient a short time, you're there for the long haul.
3. CERTAIN MEDICINES.
We all know that what works for one person may not help another. I have a cold chill at the thoughts of a medicine change, but sometines it's necessary. Years ago, as a result of adding two new medicines, my son actually went four years without a seizure. But during this time, the neurologist warned that there could be break-through seizures. My nerves were not prepared for the onslaught again, so I learned not to let my guard down. It's easier that way.
4. TAKE MEDICINE REGULARLY.
Someone needs to be sure the medicine is taken as prescribed. A person on several medicines may have trouble remembering if they took it, so, let's say they take medicine twice daily. Get two seven day containers with the day of the week in large letters, take a black marker and write MORNING on one and NIGHT on the other. Have someone double check to see that the correct dosage is in each container. If several medicines are involved, it is very easy to make a mistake, even for someone not on medication.
5. DON'T SKIP CHECKUPS.
This is very important. My son has lab work done every three months.
6. TREATMENT FOR GRANDMALL SEIZURES.
We live in a rural area and keep Diastat on hand if a seizure should go into a grandmall. Ask your doctor about this.
7. LIVING ALONE.
I pretty well know what goes on with him through the day. If auras threaten, usually seizures follow, so he keeps a portable phone with him, in a pocket or his chair. If I glance toward his home and realize a drape that was open has been closed against the evening sun,I'm relieved. And I think,'Okay, at that time, he was up and moving around'. Tele-marketers don't have a clue as to the damage they do to nerves if it's nearing seizure time and you're racing for the phone while the person who may be having a seizure is still able to talk. I bring my son over to my house for the couple days he's having seizures, usually every six weeks. My husband sleeps sounder than me, so I put cot mattresses on the carpet and my son sleeps on the couch. Through the night, he can softly call, "Mama, I'm having a seizure," and I'm wide awake. I sit on the edge of the coffee table until it's over, and then I wait ten more minutes to be sure it doesn't return as a grand mall. And I pray, and keep telling myself that he'll be better tomorrow, that it's his brain firing too rapidly. Sometimes my thoughts go to instances in the bible where Jesus casts out devils and evil spirits and I can't help but wonder if those people were plagued with epilepsy? The last thing I do before going to bed each night is call my son to be sure he's okay. It's a fine line to walk as you care for them and at the same time try to give them independence.

Art Therapy Helps Wounded Soldiers

When I saw the above headline, I remembered writing this article several years ago. I dug it out of my documents to post here. I've pushed a lot of paint the last 35 years, and I've been aware for a long time about 'The Healing Side of Art'.

The Healing Side of Art
by
Frances Bennett

Have you ever seen pink bulls grazing in the early light of dawn? Would you like to glimpse a pink world for a little whole and record it on canvas?
The sun is rising over our farm this morning, making its way through a colored fog and shedding pink light over everything it touches. The farm buildings have a rose colored glow, and two Charolias bulls grazing in a pasture behind our house look as if they are outlined in iridescent pink.
I am seeing this through the eyes of an artist. I find myself critiquing the Lord’s artwork, analyzing every cast and grade shadow, attempting to sear the image into my being.
There is one other thing I need to see before the light changes. I hurry to a front window and look across the field to my neighbor’s home. I know what I will see, but I never tire of this scene. Her windows are aflame with the reflection of sunrise.
After a while, the brilliance begins to fade, and I reluctantly let it go. I will tuck this memory away and call on it another day when I paint. I am comforted, imagining how this would look on canvas. I turn from the window to begin household chores. I automatically work, and my thoughts go back several years to the weekly adult oil painting class I taught.
My friend, Jeanette, was always the first one there. She helped me get things in order from the children’s class and put clean newspaper on the tables. We usually had a few minutes before the others arrived. Sometimes, she talked about the death of her husband in a nursing home fire, and how she looked forward to painting each Thursday. As the weeks passed, I watched her relax and become totally engrossed in her work.
During class, I made rounds periodically, checking the work of each person in order to catch mistakes in the early stages. I’d known most of my students for years, and one night as I stopped at each table, I suddenly realized how many tragic stories were in that room. I was grateful to have a small part in helping these people put their troubles aside for two hours and be in their own world, a world where color leaps out at you and things come to life on canvas.
Rubye had a heart condition and was diabetic. She came to class with red and swollen feet, but her smile was always there. When she died, one of her class paintings rested on an easel beside her casket. After the visitation, I had a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. I cried all the way home. That lump wasn’t much better the day I packed her art supplies to send to her family.
Leon was the only man in class. We teased him and told him that he put a damper on our conversations. He was in constant pain, but this didn’t stop him from having a good time. It was painful for anything to touch his arms, so even in winter, he wore short sleeves. Several times during class, he stopped painting and exercised his arms and hands. I placed his floor easel by the heater where he stood to paint.
Every few weeks, the subject came up of how art had caused everyone to see colors differently, and how they noticed things they always knew were there, but had never really seen. They sometimes painted at home and brought their work for me to critique.
Jeanette had taken art for a year when her son died. We were on a holiday break, and his death was during this time. She asked if our Antioch Church of Christ group would sing. We gladly did so, and resumed painting after New Years. Jeanette was glad to be back, and told us how she wished for art classes following his death.
My students learned to paint wind-blown skies with ochre fields of waving grass. Their imaginations soared, sometimes adding an old fence, far-off birds in flight, or a hollow tree. I told them to be nervous as they added squiggly branches to the larger limbs. They responded that it would be easy, because they were already nervous. I noticed as class progressed, their hands were much steadier and they were more relaxed.
Now and then, someone created a happy accident. Although they didn’t have enough experience to recognize it, after I explained what they had done and why they should leave it, their self-confidence had a big boost. I assured them that with time, they would know instantly.
I’ve touched on the lives of three students, but there are untold stories concerning the others. There is great satisfaction in seeing the amazement of people as they realize they are actually learning to paint. But the greatest gift of all, is seeing the inner peace that comes through the healing side of art.