Heart Hope by Olga

Who me? A salesperson? No way! That’s the thought that comes to mind when I think of myself as a salesperson. My friend in Texas is a real salesperson…she sells blankets…in Texas...thousands of them. That’s someone who can sell. I have been in sales before and have done quite well at it, but it’s because selling to me is just a form of education about a great product. I wouldn’t be able to sell a bad product, in fact I would probably try to talk a person out of something if I didn’t feel it was right for them. Once sitting on a plane I was visiting with my seatmate about my hometown of Jackson, Mississippi. I was telling of the precious people, the heritage and history, the fabulous food, the amazing azaleas, the other appealing things about the city.   I’m not sure if I sold the person sitting next to me, but the person behind me said, "They should hire you to work at the Chamber of Commerce because I want to move there." While working for Vail Resorts, I have been in

Does anyone remember the Highlights magazine growing up? The magazines could be found in almost every doctor’s office. The first placed I would turn in the magazine was the Hidden Pictures page where a drawing could be found that had many items hidden within the sketch. Eyeglasses might be concealed in the pile of rocks and an octopus may be obscured under the petals of a flower.  Just as some people can spot the hidden items easily while others can hardly find them at all, my husband and I see things through vastly different eyes. I see the coffee grounds left on the kitchen counter, he doesn’t. I see the wrinkles in the sheets on a bed that have not been straightened tightly enough, he doesn’t. I see dirty dishes in the sink, he doesn’t. So why should I be surprised that he hadn’t noticed the way my artificial fruit was displayed in the bowl? You see, a couple of days ago my husband knocked a radish out of the ceramic container sitting on the coffee table. (Now you might be wonderi

Our sermon series in church was on our spiritual pulse and Pastor Craig asked us to rate our prayer life. He questioned if it was more like: Breathing--you do to throughout the day without having to think about it Brushing your teeth-you do it regularly 3 times a day Showering--once a day is plenty for you Mowing the lawn--once a week is enough to cover all of your needs Like tax return--once a year if needed Or what prayer life? This might seem like a funny little exercise, but I think it probably tells a lot about your faith, your relationship with God and even you mental state. It makes us stop and think of what it should be like. If we stop breathing we stop living. If we fail to brush our teeth they will decay, rot and eventually fall out and become useless. When we don’t shower, people tend to keep their distance. If we don’t mow the lawn on a regular schedule it will become overgrown and unmanageable with an abundance of weeds. And if we don’t pay our taxes we will b

* He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.  ~Clarence Budington Kelland * A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty.  ~Author Unknown  * When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.  ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Mark Twain   Like father, like son...we hear the phrase often. This week I observed it happening in church. A dad sitting with his two year old son was playing around with him, by tapping the child on the head with the bulletin. The young boy immediately climbed up in the chair next to his dad and tapped him on the head with a piece of paper. I laughed to myself thinking that children imitating their parents begins at such an early age. It really makes you think about the importance of our words and actions because little eyes are watc

Supposedly 25,000 people visited Beaver Creek, CO this weekend. It wasn’t for a food and wine festival, or for skiing, but for a torture event. Many of the people were there to participate in the Tough Mudder, which is a 10-12 mile obstacle course designed by British Special Forces to test endurance, stamina, strength and camaraderie.  Cold water, mud, electric shocks, snow, ice and walls are just a few of the challenging elements that participants contend with during the competition.   The contest is so fierce that applicants are asked to take the following pledge: I understand that Tough Mudder is not a race but a challenge. I put teamwork and camaraderie before my course time. I do not whine; kids whine. I help my fellow mudders complete the course. I overcome all fears. In addition to the contestants, there are the observers-those people interested in watching other people go through pain and agony. I’m not sure which is worse the ones going through the anguish or those of

Its funny how certain experiences trigger unexpected emotions. One of those incidents happened today. My daughter texted me – “I’m at the airport and see my old kindergarten teacher from First Pres. What’s her name again?” The feelings of gratitude filled my eyes with tears, remembering how that special lady, Mrs. Clark, had help to mold and change a little girl’s future. Over thirty years ago when Margaret was in kindergarten in Fort Worth, TX I was told by a teacher that my daughter had many learning disabilities and would never be successful in school, would not be able to read and that she should definitely be held back. These words were devastating to me. After all this was my first born child and we thought she was pretty perfect. Only a few weeks after the heartbreaking news we moved from Texas to my hometown of Jackson, MS. Margaret was put into a kindergarten class at First Presbyterian Christian School. A conference was held with her teacher to inform her about what the

The power cord on my computer had seen its better days. The constant wrapping of the cord while traveling or transporting it places had taken its toll and the wiring was loose. It had to be in just the perfect position to provide power and would often just cut off when in use if the computer was moved into the wrong position because the battery would no longer hold a charge. The cord had been rigged together with duct tape in hopes of expanding the life just a little longer. (I think I need a new laptop. What do you think?) A replacement cord had been searched for, but where we live it couldn’t be located. We had even tried a cord that had multiple heads, but none fit my make and model. However, tonight as my husband was packing for a trip, he discovered another set of plugs that he had used with his computer previously and laid it out to see if one of them might work with my setup.  They were all laid out without much optimism of finding one to fit since the previous set had prov