Gift Idea for a Booth Owner

These are my thoughts as I'm sitting here, cutting cardstock into tags for part of my dad's Christmas gift. My dad has a booth at a local antique mall. He enjoys hunting for good finds, the challenge of rebuilding and repurposing. He even enjoys loading up his truck to restock.

Least favorite part... pricing. Mom tells me they're always buying pre-made tags for $1, and are low on other materials like twine and string. So, I know dad loves his booth. He loves thrifting, and being thrifty. Just doesn't like making tags. Perfect, cause I can do that!

Ok, making a bunch of tags. What else?

After looking around in my own resale stash, I found a wooden carrier (well, a small shelf turned on it's side). Filled it with small metal buckets, and a tall metal box w/lid. They all fit!

Realistically, I know my practical, yet creative dad will sell or repurpose what I give him instead of keeping it to use for organization. It's great knowing he finds joy in painting or rebuilding, etc. so I just see this as part of the gift.

I'm also a booth owner. This is a short list of my commonly needed items, as well as a few things I'll add to personalize. His favorite color is green, so that may also become part of the theme:

~ bundles of similar sized tags (sm, med, lg, etc.)

~ twine, crochet thread

~ fine black markers/pens
~ double-sided tape
~ paint brushes
~ scissors
~ safety pins
~ favorite snacks

~ cash for thrifting

There are so many ways to give! I hope you make or find just the right things for everyone on your heart this Christmas season!

Feel Like Christmas

 

I've heard quite a few people saying it just doesn't feel like Christmas. There's no motivation or time. Little joy or anticipation... "Christmas" is just another day this year. I was stubbornly refusing to admit it, but I felt the same. I was going about my daily routine, trying to make myself feel more, "in the Christmas spirit." It just wasn't really happening.

Music has always played a huge role in my Christmas. As a girl, we'd listen to Christmas albums on the record player, or on cassette in our minivan. Middle school through my senior year I played trumpet, and memorized all my favorite Christmas songs. For years, I played Christmas CD's starting in the fall as a backdrop for making homemade Christmas cards. This year, the same music I usually enjoyed just wasn't making me feel much different... why? Then in the beginning of December, my sister-in-law and I went on a Christmas tour of churches. It's a candlelit, evening event in downtown Lancaster. It was also my second time going, so I was expecting a beautiful evening... there was even a little snow. If anything would boost my spirits, it'd be this. We walked together on the slippery sidewalks, arm in arm, marveling at homes lit up for the holidays. Every church and it's music was different. Some felt very solemn and others very cheerful. We enjoyed it all, really. It's a tradition that I hope continues in this community and in our family for a very long time. In one of the churches, there was a folk/bluegrass group that played a cheerful song I hadn't heard for years. I didn't know who sang it, or exactly where I'd heard it... but knew it nearly by heart. It made an impression on me, and I felt uplifted. We went to other churches, and heard many more songs. The next day, I told my mom there was a song played that was familiar, but by then couldn't remember the name. So, everything got busy. That song was forgotten... but only until I began humming it while washing dishes. "Christmas time's a comin'!" One of those songs played on our record player more than 25 years ago. My mom said we'd listened to Emmylou Harris' version. I pulled up the song on YouTube... and there was a playlist. Childhood memories flooded in. It felt so different than when I'd heard the usual songs on the radio. These songs meant more to me. I couldn't listen to this music without hearing a crackle and occasional skip of the record (my brother and I... sometimes my dad... wound up dancing or doing somersaults). Memories so far away, yet still so real. Tears of joy welled up... my heart was changed, and then: "It just doesn't feel like Christmas at all this year, I'm sorry." Through the years, I haven't done a whole lot of baking. One reason being, our neighbor lady has always given us a tray loaded with cookies and fudge. This week, she called and said she didn't get around to baking, what with her and her husband's health issues. Today the kids and I will be baking Christmas cookies... probably while listening to Emmylou Harris' Christmas songs (they love them too, by the way). Of course, today I hope we make happy memories, and maybe even start a tradition. Really though, I hope we help one or two more hearts "feel like Christmas." Merry Christmas to you and yours!

A Renewed Family Tradition

"The perfect Christmas tree?
All Christmas trees are perfect!"

~ Charles N. Barnard ~

I used to love having a real Christmas tree.  Growing up, it's all my brother and I knew...  Mom would bundle us up, and out we'd go for our annual drive down winding gravel roads.  It felt as if we'd never get there, but then... there was a white sign with a green Christmas tree.  We'd park near the farmhouse, get out and start walking... and walking.  Up and down rows of seemingly endless trees.

At last we'd find 'the perfect one' and stand guard while Dad went to find someone to dig it up.  See, we not only had real Christmas trees, we had real live Christmas trees.  Every year after Christmas, it would take it's place somewhere in the yard with our other special pines.  When I was about 12, we moved from my childhood home to a new one.  It was exciting in many ways, but there were, of course, things we were sad to leave behind.  Among them, our Christmas trees.

After moving into our new home, we eventually changed the tradition of visiting a tree farm.  We instead had a beautiful Christmas tree that could be put up the day after Thanksgiving, didn't need water, had needles that never fell, came with perfectly placed lights, and could be used again, year after year... and I came to prefer this kind of tree.

I bought a beautiful Christmas tree for my husband and I to use, 8 years ago.  Occasionally my husband would mention having a real tree, but I thought it'd just be a big hassle, with us having young children.  Finally, I gave in 2 years ago...

Cold, rainy, muddy memories come to mind.  Our children were ages 4 and 5.   It was hard for them to keep up, and they just wanted to leave.  We chose a traditional Scotch pine, which wasn't my favorite, but time was up ~ according to our kids.  After getting it home, my husband realized we'd bought a crooked tree... he had to use nails and tie on rope to keep it straight and stabilized.  It's one of those stories that we laugh about now...

This year, my husband kept hinting it could be nice to have a real Christmas tree again.  I was pretty doubtful, but kept it to myself.  Now I'm glad we went back.

We arrived just in time to be taken on a hay ride through the pines.  Pulling the wagon were 2 beautiful Clydesdale horses, outfitted with sleigh bells.  We jumped off to begin our search, and after walking... and walking, we chose a Frasier fir.  We hitched a ride back the same way we came ~ my husband and daughter sat with the man driving the horses.  My son sat close to me and kept saying how happy he was we were there.  What a difference 2 years makes!

I had to buy new lights, as a string I used 2 years ago would only light halfway.  Needles constantly litter the carpet, and I have to remember to water the tree daily... This year our tree is straight (thank goodness!) but still isn't store-bought perfect... 

The perfect Christmas tree?  All Christmas trees are perfect... Yes, and for our family, it's the one in our window tonight, shimmering with white lights.  I'm so thankful for my husband's persistance, the memories that were made... and for a renewed family tradition.

A Little Patch of Dirt

As a little girl, Dad gave me ownership over a shady corner of our garden. I could do whatever I wanted there. That usually meant play in the dirt and plant an occasional flower or two, while Dad worked nearby. It was never really about growing anything as much as it was about giving me a place to play - keeping me occupied while spending time together.

Years later, I wanted my children to grow up the same way. As soon as they could go, I took them for walks to see what was growing, to hear the birds, see beetles and butterflies. We've spent a lot of time outside together.

When my daughter was about 4, I asked if she'd like her very own garden... she was so excited! Sunflowers, zinnias, daisies, daylilies and a butterfly bush have all grown there. She used to have a brightly colored birthday plate she loved so much. She ate her dinner on it almost every evening. Then one day, it slipped out of her little hands and broke. She was devastated... until I suggested we use it to decorate. It's been out there a little over a year now, and she still points to it and tells people about her favorite plate.
                                  
My son has a garden also... although it's not as big as his sister's.  It's a little triangular plot, about the same size mine used to be. Right between sidewalk and gravel driveway.  We always put our pumpkins and squash there at the end of autumn, and by the next spring he usually has dozens of sprouting seedlings.  This year has been so dry, it's nothing but dried up grass and dirt.  Up until today, he's used it as a construction site for his little tractors and backhoes.

Now it's a rock garden.  Olivia informed me of her plan this morning, and the three of us went looking.  Some were gathered from my flowerbed borders. Others were found in daddy's freshly plowed vegetable garden.  The finishing touch was a bit of hay placed around everything.

I've been sad my son's garden didn't grow... even as he happily played in the dirt of the construction site, completely oblivious to my concern.  He did ask me why there weren't any pumpkins this year, but then said, "It's been too dry, huh mom?"

Next year his garden may go back to being a place where green things grow. Maybe not - we'll figure it out. Today it was nice watching my kids work together, have fun, and not stress about things not going as they usually do. All thanks to a little patch of dirt.

Summery Pink Geraniums

"Then followed that beautiful

season... summer. Filled was

the air with a dreamy & magical

light; and the landscape lay

as if new... created in all the

freshness of childhood."

 

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ~

I've written about my husband's

great-grandmother Hazel, and geraniums:

her favorite flower. Since then I've learned

her favorite color of geranium was pink. Days

ago, we visited Hazel & Kermit's graves and

planted a pair of red and pink geraniums in

their memory.  We paused to listen to a few

stories about little things he remembered

about her. She was a very special lady!

As far as the images, I designed the

first for use as a simple note card, and left

it blank so you could personalize with

your own special messages... I didn't have a

particular use in mind for the second image,

but thought it turned out so pretty that I

included it! The third image is a stationery

page. Love the effect of the shadows cast by

the flower. The last geranium is a PNG file,

which means it has a transparent background.

Here are the free graphics &

sources used in my artwork:

*Vintage Images*

Pink geranium (pelargonium)

*The Graphics Fairy*

French sheet music

*Altered Bits*

Grungy texture (broken link 1/2026)

*bumble button*

Theater program graphic

*The Old Design Shop*

French postcard

*Shabby Blogs*

Post divider #7 (broken link 1/2026)

Grandma Hazel's Geraniums

My husband's great-grandfather

Kermit took pride in his roses.

His great-grandmother Hazel,

enjoyed her geraniums.

Here are the sources for

"Grandma Hazel's Geraniums"

gift tags & lined stationery:

*Vintage Images*

Red geranium

*The Graphics Fairy*

French sheet music

*Altered Bits*

Grungy texture

*Green Paper*

green frame

What are your favorite flowers?

The Sweetest Angel

"The golden moments

in the stream of life

rush past us and we see

nothing but sand; the

angels come to visit us,

and we only know them

when they are gone."

 ~ George Elliot ~

What was written on the

back of the original card

tugged at my heartstrings:

"To Helen from Grandma"

My Grandma Leasure's

name was Helen. She

was an angel to me.

 

Here are the free graphics

& sources used in her artwork:

*The Graphics Fairy*

Sweetest Easter angel

*Vintage Ephemera*

French Script, 1816

*Altered Bits*

Grungy texture

A Wonderfully Ordinary Day

Yesterday I woke up to sunshine and a sweet little girl curled up next to me. Time for us both to get up, since it was a Kindergarten day. She looked so peaceful. I waited a moment before giving her a nudge. She opened her eyes and focused on me, smiling. We stretched, yawned, and made our way downstairs. Soon my son was up too. Another happy child... it's so nice when they both wake up "on the right side of the bed."

Didn't take long before I had two kids chiming in for pancakes... how could I say no? I flipped as they ate. My daughter ran upstairs to put on school clothes and finish getting ready. While cleaning the mess of dishes, my son came closer and asked, "Mom, what are we gonna do today?"

I paused and glanced outside. "Would you want to help me in the garden?" His grin and eagerly nodding head were my answer. Olivia came back downstairs, and we stood out on the porch as I finished doing her hair. We said our morning prayer and had a laugh when we thought a yellow cement truck was her school bus. Sure enough, the real one came, and we waved goodbye.

Soon after she'd left, we decided to make Jell-O. My little guy picked out strawberry. He handled it pretty well when I told him we couldn't eat it just yet. I'm sure it helped we were heading out.

Once in the flowerbed, I started digging and pulling... and noticed there was a growing number of toy dump trucks and tractors lining up. Zach stood beside me, a little winded, and said, "We're ready to help, mom!" As I pulled up clumps of grass and other weeds, he loaded them into his various little trucks and transported them to a designated dump site.

While working, we talked about grubs and worms and those noisy birds chirping in the crab apple tree. At one point, I heard, "Oh, I forgot something!" and looked up to see an excited little guy running inside. He returned - carefully balancing our Jello and 2 spoons.  "Is it ready now?" It was. So we took a break and he leaned against me, saying, "You know... I love helping you work in the garden, mom." One of the best moments of my day.

We went on to pick my daughter up from school, have supper and bath time... I tucked my son in to bed first. He said, "I can't wait for more weeds!" and thanked God for our garden in his prayer...

I gently shut his door and led my daughter to bed. We noticed the moon in the sky, and she shared how she loves to look up at it sometimes from her bedroom window... "even after Daddy tucks me in bed." Moved, I said I've always loved the moon too. I turned to face her, and said, "You know, today has been one of the best days I've ever had." To which she responded, "Well, that's good... now just go to sleep."

I chuckled at her perfect timing, got up to leave and smiled while closing her door.  In fact, I smiled until finally drifting off... reluctantly closing the book on a wonderfully ordinary day.

1917 Farmyard Favorites

 "Agriculture is our wisest

pursuit, because it will in the end

contribute most to real wealth,

good morals, and happiness."

Letter from Thomas Jefferson

to George Washington (1787)

My husband grew up on a farm.

We live just down the road from the

original homestead of Catherine &

Edward Berry - his (5 times)

great-grandparents, who settled

here in 1807.  Several generations

of farming families are the result

of what they started 200+ years ago.

Two tags using images from a c.1917

children's book title + back cover, combined

with a Farm Sale document from 1792:

 Original images were scanned,

then cleaned up a bit. The book is

13.5" by 9.5", so a fairly good size.

Summer of '62

 "You are worried about

seeing him spend his early

years in doing nothing.  

What!  

Is it nothing to be happy?  

Nothing to skip, play, and run

around all day long? Never in

his life will he be so busy again." 

~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 1762 ~  

----------------------------------------------------------

My Aunt Elaine shared this photograph.

From left to right: Janet, Joan, James, Doris,

Elaine, Norma, and Gary. The youngest brother,

Randall, was born the following summer.

 

My dad, Gary, was 5 years old then... 

the same age his grandson is now. 

Mom asked our family over for lunch

yesterday. While getting the kids ready,

had a last-minute idea to print this 8"x10"

photo for Dad. I changed it to sepia-tone

and added a background texture. 

Not sure where this photo was taken, 

but looks like they had fun there!

Wishing you a great day... 

maybe with a few fond 

childhood memories thrown in!

 Thanks for stopping by!

Tale of a Noisy Bucket

This morning, I woke to the sound of an alarm. 6:00. The wind and rain blowing outside easily lulled me back to sleep. Lovely day to stay under the covers. Half an hour later, there was a familiar pitter-patter of footsteps down the hall, pausing at my door.

Looking over, I could make out a fuzzy form but couldn't tell if it was my son or daughter. So I asked, "Who is it?" Olivia quietly responded, "Mom, can I come to your bed?" I said yes, so she ran and eagerly jumped under the covers, nestling in close to get warm. I asked why she was up at such an hour, as she's usually my late sleeper. 

"The wind blew over a bucket outside, and it was really loud... it's rolling around now, do you want to see?" I reminded her, "Mommy can't see without her glasses." With that, she scrambled out from under the covers to grab them off the dresser and left for the bathroom.

I heard the water running shortly, and so I just looked up at the ceiling, taking in the little noises she was making. She came back, gingerly holding them (by the frames, so as not to smudge her handiwork), and helped put them into place. 

Side by side, we crawled over to the window. There was the bucket! We sat in silence a moment. I glanced over at my little girl... her hair illuminated by the garage light. Perfect in all it's crazy curliness. She was still busy, taking in the morning scenery. Hesitantly I broke the silence, asking if she'd like to have tea together. With eyes now at their maximum widened potential, she shook her curls up and down, "Yes!"

By this time, her brother was up too. We sang our "good morning" song and headed downstairs - now making tea for three. Zachary asked for cinnamon tea right away, but Olivia was not having it. "Yuck mom, I hate cinnamon... except when it's in cinnamon rolls or on cinnamon sugar toast!" They both wanted rolls with butter left over from dinner. I made everyone's tea to order, and we enjoyed breakfast together.

Mom called and we chatted a few minutes, ending with Olivia singing a little song she just learned about mothers and chocolate cake. Zachary went off to play with tractors as I got Olivia dressed and ready for the bus.  She paused to say goodbye to her brother, and then to the end of the driveway we went.

I knelt down and took her hands, as we always do, and as I started to pray, Olivia stopped me. She asked if she could say a few words... so I of course said okay. "God, thanks for knocking that bucket over with the wind this morning.  It was a great idea!" We finished praying just as the bus crested the hill.  She turned around, smiled and waved goodbye...

Thank you God for all your great ideas!!

In Due Time

I always have mixed feelings when I think about today.  First, I celebrate the birth of my son... he was born 5 years ago ~ December 11th, 2006.  The birth of a child is always a miracle... but it's scary when they're born sooner than expected.  I also remember my Grandpa Ross' passing on that very same day... it's sad when someone leaves this earth sooner than expected...

The course of events surrounding that December 11th were full of many highs and lows.  Now, 5 years later, I can reflect on what happened with a clearer perception.

Some may say this is all coincidence... well, judge for yourself... 

I got very sick in the beginning of December with a flu-like virus.  It was the worst I can remember feeling ~ ever ~ and being 8 months pregnant intensified everything.  I couldn't sleep all night on the 9th, and on December 10th, I awoke from a nap with strong contractions just 3 minutes apart.  I knew if I didn't get to the hospital fast my baby would be in trouble.

My husband and daughter came home from church just when I needed them.  I know Chad broke the speed limit all the way to the hospital, and I was admitted immediately around noon.  The plan was to stop my labor if possible.  I was given a continuous series of shots, IV medications which burned my veins, and fluids for hydration.

As night came, I would drift off to sleep only to be jolted awake by a contraction.  The medications weren't helping.  In the morning, the doctor came in and said it was time to deliver my baby... and now.  Without even the option of an epidural, pitocin was administered.

As a nurse, I knew what pitocin does... and it's a very helpful drug for speeding up labor.  It also has a very, very... very painful effect if you have no epidural.  Thanks be to God, Zachary was born soon after I received it.

While I was suffering to bring life in to the world, another precious life was ebbing away.  My Grandpa Ross was in another area hospital, holding on to life, but not for long.  After I gave birth to a son, Zachary Andrew, the word was relayed to my Grandpa's bedside just hours before he drew his final breath.

Zachary Andrew means "the Lord remembers" and "strong and courageous".  So many of the nurses, and even doctors would come in and say, "Babies just know when it's their time to come."  I will forever believe that Zachary came exactly one month before his January 11th due date for a purpose... because even as everything medically possible was done to hold him back, he still found a way to come in to this world.

Zachary had to stay in the hospital for a week to receive IV and oxygen therapy.  I wasn't able to bring him to my room, he had to stay in the nursery.  After my discharge, I was able to stay in a small room across from the nursery.   I was able to watch him and I could visit and hold his hand... but not him.  The nurses had no obligation to check on me, but they did.  Their kindness and compassion I will always remember.

After that long week, we brought our little one home.  He seemed so fragile and small.  I prayed that God would remember our little Zachary and help him grow strong.

In these 5 years, we've witnessed a miracle as Zachary has grown from being a prematurely born, small baby... in to a physically strong boy.  At his last check-up he surpassed the expected height and weight for his age by quite a large margin.  He appears to be older than his sister, and people are always surprised to hear he was born early.

Then again...

Is it all coincidence that Zachary arrived 'early'?  Would Grandpa be proud of the boy who arrived on the day he took his leave?  I believe he would.... and is.
  
So, do you believe this is a story of coincidences?  As for me, I will forever believe God's will far outweighs any human expectation.  Yes, this day will always be a day of mixed emotions.  It saddens me that I'll always be able to count the years my Grandpa has been gone by the age of my son.  However, I feel hopeful also... believing in due time we will all meet again.

Perhaps Grandpa and Zachary will already be acquainted...

Sweet Smiles

When I tuck my son in at night he asks something like... "Does Olivia go to school in the morning?"

Honestly, he's happy either way... if she's going or not, because they are very close.  That being said, when I reply, "Yes, Olivia's got school in the morning," his smile stretches from ear to ear.  He knows it's our special time together.

Yesterday was one of those days.  When I came in from getting Olivia on the bus, Zachary was still standing at the window, with a slightly sad look on his face.  His eyes quickly lit up as I asked, "Well, what are we gonna do today?"

It was then that my expression changed, as I remembered it was time for my yearly TB test and flu shot at the hospital.  I stooped down and said, "Would you like to help me be brave today?"  His eyes were big as he quickly replied, "Sure Mom!  Why do you need to be brave?"  So I told him. He looked up at me with that sweet little smile and said, "It'll be alright.  I know you can do it... just don't cry like this ~ Wah!  Wah! Wah!"  We laughed and laughed...

One thing about where I get my shots, is that it's right across from a koi pond.  The pond is maintained and decorated through out the year... but the main attraction, at least for the little ones, is the train that goes around the display.  My son loves trains, and just about anything else that has an engine for that matter... so I knew he'd LOVE it.

I rested my hands on Zachary's shoulders and looked him in the eye.  I told him about the train, and that we'd see it, but that first, "Mommy needs her shots."  Out came that big grin again as he nodded enthusiastically.

We arrived at the hospital, and Zachary eagerly unbuttoned his seat belt and jumped to the pavement.  "Remember what we said about the train?"  "Sure do Mom!"  He reached up to grab my hand as we walked to the entrance.  Along the way he asked questions about the people we saw... "Are they sick?  Why are they here?  Why are they leaving?..."  I just smiled and gave simple answers, which seemed to satisfy his curiosity.

We entered and walked down the hallway.  He looked up and said, "Mom, I know... shots first, then the train, right?"  I just hoped he'd really remember those words when he SAW it.

He did!  He looked for a split second, and asked, "Is that the train?"  He took a deep breath, put his hands on his hips and said, "Okay, well you gotta get your shots now."  We walked through the door and immediately he started chatting with the nurses... introducing me and himself and telling them why we were there... all of course, while flashing his sweet smile.

We went in to a little room, and as the nurse prepared the shots, my son stood watch over me.  He analyzed every move she made.  I got the flu shot first.  I don't know if he saw that or not, because I didn't look that way (I tense up if I watch).  As I was getting my bandaid, Zachary said, "You did really good Mom, I'm proud of you!"

I said, "I'm not done... I get one more shot."  I could see him for this one.  I told him to look away, but he covered his face with his hands and peeked through his fingers, which made me smile.  When it was over, he had this amazed expression as he said, "Mom... you were really brave."  He held my hand then gave me a hug...

We stopped to see the train on the way out, as promised, and he got to push a button to make it go.  He asked, "Do you see this train all the time??"  I do, but actually I usually look at my reflection in the glass as I pass by instead of the train.  Now I'll look down at that train instead, and think about my Zachary.

As we left hand-in-hand, my little guy looked up at me with that sweet smile, and I said, "I love you."  He replied, "I know, Mom."

What a perfect answer to this brave... and proud... mother's heart.

At a glance...

...it’s nothing special

Just an ordinary day

Creeping up against the shadows

In an ordinary way

But if you observe it closely

You can see the Giver’s face 

In this extra-ordinary gift

Another day of grace.

~~~ Janet Martin ~~~

I love this sweet photo of my dad reading to my daughter.  She was about 2 years old... 4 years ago ~ how the time does fly!  

She'd just had a bath, and 'Papaw' Ross was sitting with her on her bed, reading a book about monkeys.  I remember hearing them first, then grabbing my camera to try and 'capture the moment'.

They were so involved with each other, they didn't even notice me standing there.  It was truly a beautiful gift to see the love between a little girl and her grandpa... an example of an extra-ordinary gift given on an ordinary day, that could've easily been forgotten, overlooked, or missed entirely.

But it wasn't ~ and for that I'm thankful.

Isn't it good to know that even our most ordinary of days are filled with beautiful gifts from a God who loves us enough to send them our way?

Thank you God, for opening my eyes to see your blessings 

in the midst of daily tasks.  Thank you for helping me to see You... everywhere I go, and in everything I do.

 At a glance, it's nothing special.   

Just an ordinary day...

More than a Colorful Coat...

Joseph is well known for his  

coat of many colors,

but how much do you really know 
about his amazing life story?   

Joseph, the son of Jacob in the book of Genesis, went from being a favorite son set to inherit his father's tribe to being a slave and thrown in jail for a crime he didn't commit.  Through it all, this man never blamed God for his troubles.  His reward ~ the blessings he received... and the justice God granted ~ are powerful examples of what God can do if He is on your side. 

Joseph was an honest, kind son who grew up favored by his father, Jacob.  He showed this by giving only Joseph a long coat of many colors.  He was also chosen as his father's heir, although there were 10 sons born before him. 

He had the gift of interpreting dreams as well... 

You can imagine the great tension between Joseph and his older brothers, and their resentment towards him.  One day Joseph explained the meaning of two of his own dreams... in the first, his brothers were bowing before him.  In the second, the sun (father), moon (mother), and 11 stars (all his brothers) bowed before him.  The brothers despised Joseph for his dreams' implications.

Joseph's elder brothers were out in the fields, shepherding the tribe's sheep.  They'd been gone several days and needed fresh food, so Joseph was sent to them.  The brothers tried to avoid him by moving to an unexpected place, but Joseph found them anyway.  

This is where Joseph's story takes its first turn...  The ten brothers saw this as an opportunity to get rid of Joseph, and so they grabbed him and threw him in to a nearby dry cistern.  The eldest brother intended to save Joseph, while another suggested twice they kill him.  An Egyptian trader happened their way, and so the brothers agreed to sell their brother in to slavery.  What an opportunity!  They'd be rid of him, make a little money, and his blood wouldn't be on their hands.  Can you imagine Joseph calling out, "Brothers?  Help me!  Save me... Brothers?"

He was only 17 years old.

The brothers ripped up Joseph's once treasured coat and covered it in goat's blood.  They brought it back to their father as evidence of Joseph's death at the hands of a wild animal ~ which was their story.  Jacob and the rest of the tribe believed this to be true, and so began a time of mourning.

Joseph was not dead, but perhaps wishing it, as he was dragged along to Egypt.  Once there, he was sold to Potiphar, a very important man to Pharaoh ~ captain of the guard.  Every task that Joseph was assigned to prospered.  Over time, he gained recognition and became Potiphar's personal servant.  

Joseph also gained unwanted recognition from Potiphar's wife.  She wanted to have an affair with him, but he refused.  After being turned down several times, she made false sexual accusations against him.  For this, Joseph was thrown in jail by his master.

Here again, even as a slave in jail, Joseph found favor.  He was placed in a position overseeing the other prisoners, and the jail ran efficiently.

One day, two men of high status were thrown in jail ~ the Pharaoh's cup bearer and baker.  They had dreams that they could not interpret.  Joseph listened and correctly read their dreams.  The baker was hanged and the cup bearer was restored to his position.  Joseph suggested to the cup bearer ~ please remember me, and my service to you.  However, once the man was back in his position, he forgot about Joseph's request.

Time passed.  Pharaoh's sleep was disturbed by two dreams that he nor anyone in his service could interpret.  The cup bearer now remembered Joseph, and told Pharaoh of his gift.  Joseph was presented to Pharaoh, where he interpreted the meaning of his dreams as seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine.  Pharaoh asked what should then be done, and Joseph offered a wise plan to store part of the harvest in the years of plenty and save for the years of want.  

At only 30 years of age, Joseph was named Vizier ~ second in command to the Pharaoh.  He was now ruler over even the man he used to call master.  He was given a new Egyptian name, and a beautiful wife.  He followed through and stored up grain from the harvest for seven years, and in the last year of plenty, his wife had two sons ~ Manasseh, which means to forget, and Ephraim.

The severe drought and famine that came next, as Joseph predicted, forced many to come to Egypt and pay or trade for grain... which eventually included his brothers.  Joseph recognized them ~ but they did not recognize him... he was now 39 years old.  He ordered they be thrown in prison, accusing them of being spies.  Three days later he sent all back home except one, and told them to return with ALL their brothers.  Benjamin was Joseph's only younger brother, and now set to inherit Jacob's tribe.

Upon returning home, the brothers bargained with Jacob.  When the stores of grain were nearly used up, Benjamin was sent back with the remaining brothers.  When Joseph saw all were there, he released the last brother from jail to join the others.  The brothers explained there was silver in their grain sacks from the first trip, but were told not to worry about that.  They were welcomed directly in to Joseph's home and offered a feast with the Vizier himself.  This was unusual because Egyptians did not eat with Hebrews.  They must've wondered what was going on... 

That night, Joseph ordered his brother's sacks be filled with grain, double the money they had from the first trip ~ and a silver cup placed in with Benjamin's share.  In the morning, as they left for home, they were stopped and the silver cup was 'discovered.'  Joseph ordered the one in possession of the cup to be his slave.  

The brothers came together to defend Benjamin.  The one who'd once wanted to kill Joseph, now begged and offered himself in Benjamin's place.  At this, Joseph was brought to tears, and sent all from the room, except his brothers.  He revealed his true identity as not only the Vizier, but Joseph, their long lost brother.

The men stood frozen and speechless.  Joseph brought them close and said,

But don't be upset, 

and don't be angry with yourselves 

for selling me to this place. 

It was God who sent me here 

ahead of you to preserve your lives.

~Genesis 45:5~

Could you say that if you were in Joseph's place?

The brothers were sent back to their home and told to gather the tribe, and come back to Egypt to live in a land prepared for them and their families... because there were five years of famine left.  As they approached, Joseph waited in his chariot... he was reuniting with his beloved father who he hadn't seen in 22 years.  They held each other and wept, then Jacob said, “Now let me die, since I have seen your face, because you are still alive.”

Jacob (also known as Israel) and his tribe lived peacefully for seventeen years in that land.  After his death, Joseph's brothers feared he would seek retribution for his days of slavery, but again Joseph said:

As for you, you meant evil against me, 

but God meant it for good, to bring it about 

that many people should be kept alive, 

as they are today.

~Genesis 50:20~

Joseph lived to be 110, and asked to be taken out of Egypt someday with the tribe of Jacob (Israel).  This promise was honored when Moses led the Israelites out of bondage in the Exodus from Egypt. (Exodus 13:19)

There are so many lessons to be learned here.  

Looking back, Joseph didn't blame his brothers
for their act of selling him in to slavery.
He said, "It was God who sent me here."
He forgave his brothers for their unthinkable act.

He made the most out of terrible situations
and earned a good reputation.

He never gave up. 

He is proof...

What others mean for evil, 

God can use for good.

Wouldn't you agree...
there's more to Joseph than a colorful coat?