An old joke tells of someone asking the assistant at a paper shop: ‘Do you keep stationery?’ and she replies: ‘No, I wriggle about a bit.’ She clearly thought he meant the word that is spelt ‘stationary’. There are many pairs of words like this, which sound the same but are spelt differently. They are called homophones or sometimes homonyms.

Identify the pairs of homophones from the following clues.

Example: One word means a place for keeping aircraft; the other word means a shaped piece of wood, metal, etc. on which you can hang clothes.
Answer: Hangar/hanger.

“Ugh! Close, but not close enough,” Gram whispered only to herself. Where did that rascal go?” Her sharp green eyes scanned the tree tops until they locked on a thick fork in the tree. “Ah! I see! You made it home this time, squirrelly. Don’t count on it next time!”

Dressed in her favorite comfy cammies, Gram headed back through the forest to her cabin. Her two rescue dogs ran on before her. Inside, she hung her bow and arrow satchel on one of the hooks by the door, poured a cup of water, and made herself comfortable on her porch. In just a little bit, she had to head over to the main tabernacle for supper with the rest of the clan, but for now, she enjoyed the peace and quiet of her own cabin, the one she shared with Roy and the dogs, Alpha & Beta.

It wasn’t much, just a few split logs put together like the old Lincoln logs she played with as a girl, but it was enough for her privacy. After all, what more does an older couple need but a bed, a toilet, a fireplace to ward off the evening chill, and a porch with rockers? A camouflage net hung from the trees surrounding the tiny cabin, and an unseen root cellar formed a sort of foundation and emergency shelter.

Years ago, the family had put their money together to purchase this parcel of land in eastern Tennessee, southwest of Knoxville. Each of Gram’s three children and their families had a home nearby. They had everything they needed. They lived simply, but happily, taking care of each other. They lived their own lives, freely, and gathered daily for the evening meal to give thanks to their Creator for their love for one another, His protection, and His guidance.

Government had gone crazy in the last decade, and many chose to “disappear” into the wilderness to avoid the ever-watchful eyes of Big Brother. George Orwell’s 1984 might have been published in 1949, but it came to pass with the shift away from traditional American values toward the dawn of the 21st millennium.

“The yams are looking good! I wasn’t sure they were getting enough water,” gram said to the attentive dogs.

Her garden took much of her time everyday, such as it was. Not a large garden, but enough to feed her and her family along with the meat they could still hunt or the fish from the nearby river. While mornings were spent in the garden, her afternoons were spent with her grandchildren, teaching the lessons of Freedom.

Before the Revolution2 started, gram was a teacher, so it was only natural that her heart was wrapped in the stories and tradition of early America, when God was still central in the culture. This is what she eagerly, lovingly wove into the lessons she gave her grandchildren as they gathered around her for “school.”

The men were off with the local militia for weeks at a time, but they had been back just last week to fill the family in on the news from the war. The Patriots were standing strong, as their predecessors had at America’s beginning while the tyrannical government stretched its claws deeper into the private lives of its citizens. In the last month, they said, the tide seemed to be turning in our favor. More and more citizens were feeling the pinch of government infringement which brought the forward into the fight.

The dogs broke her reverie as they barked toward a woody grove. “What’s out there, girls? Dinner?” She chuckled softly, but the barking grew more intense. She ducked inside to grab her shotgun as the girls rounded up a young boy. He looked about 10, but scrawny and dirty.

“Where’d you come from, boy?” she asked with just a tinge of annoyance in her voice. The boy didn’t respond.

“Come here, boy.” She set her shotgun down beside her and motioned him closer. “You’re a mess, child! Where’s your family? Where do you live? Come, child, I just want to help.”

“Big brother went to war.”

“What about your family, child, your parents?”

“They’re gone, ma’am. Long time gone.” He looked down as if the carpet of leaves might somehow contain them.

“Well, never mind that now. Come sit here with me a bit and let’s get acquainted proper like. You can call me Gram – everyone else does!” She smiled. “You hungry, child?” She stepped inside and returned with an apple which she proffered to him.

DESTINY CALLS: WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME?

A place in history, of time untolled,
A purpose and plan struggled against the mold,
Some strangers from across the sea,
Set out knowing nothing at all of me.

Looking through the stars, a stirring they felt,
On my distant shores, gratefully they knelt.
A firm foundation, their hearts to heaven soared,
With a twinkle in their eye and a future reward.

A city on hill, a new world of freedom,
A people self-governed, contrary to a kingdom.
That was the plan; that was the dream,
To rule over themselves without selfish scheme.

Alas, it now seems that some devilish machine
Has usurped the plan and banished the dream,
No longer this people willing to behave well,
Sold their will and devotion to a vile cartel.

Yet, off in the distance, muffled by noise,
Still Liberty’s voice, it calls with poise,
“Stand up and be counted, all you who’d be free,
The time has come to support and defend me!”

“Too busy,” you say, to get involved;
“Too much corruption, and lies, and scandals unresolved!”
Ah, but who allowed that to happen,” Liberty dares to inquire,
“Self-governing was the call, not sit back and retire!”

This ‘self-governing’ people has stopped governing altogether,
Stopped trying to improve, stopped reaching higher.
It’s so much easier to just sit and collect a check,
“Leave the heavy lifting to others while I enjoy my new deck!”

But the Land of the Free simply will not survive,
If mediocrity and laziness overpower our drive,
To conquer all obstacles, to rise to every challenge,
To grow up, to face up, and stand in the balance!

JERUSALEM: After all the terror brought on by this wandering Jew, and to His own people, it seemed we were done with him. But somehow, he has managed to stir up even more excitement. Some of his devotees went this morning to tend his body, but they found the tomb EMPTY! Graveclothes on the ground, but no sign of the body of this “King of the Jews!” We will have more from the sight on the evening broadcast.

Most Americans, most Westerners are well aware of the story of Jesus’ capture, beatings, crucifixion, and subsequent resurrection. For many, it’s a case of “familiarity breeds contempt!” – something we know but would rather not be reminded of year after year. For a few, it is something so preposterous, it insults our intelligence. Yet, it persists, year after year … song after song … tale after tale of “miraculous” events attributed to this man, Jesus.

That is he lived once, is fact. That he taught a simple, yet difficult morality, fact! That many “wonders” are assigned to his ministry, hearsay. What are the most “unbelievable” issues surrounding this man and his claim of being the Son of God? What’s the problem of belief?

his virgin birth?

his un-detailed childhood?

his various miracles?

his character?

his resurrection?

Most people, it seems, even within other faiths, think of Jesus as a “great man”, a “great teacher”, a great “philosopher.” I have a problem with these claims. While much of his “teachings” are in parable form, there are some rather monumental statements or claims made by this very man.

For example,

Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6 NIV)

“Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” ; “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” (John 6:35-41 NIV)

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10: 11 NIV)

Jesus said, “I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture.” (John 10:9 NKJV)

Jesus said, “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” (REV 1:8) NIV ; “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life.” (REV 21:6 NIV) ; “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (REV 22:13)

“25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

27“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.” (John 11:25-27 NIV)

He made several additional statements about himself, many in the book of John … all of which expand the image of exactly WHO Jesus said he was, but … these claims don’t really fit in with the program. I mean, Either Jesus is exactly who and what He claims, OR He’s the greatest con-man EVER!!! There really isn’t any room in the middle. One cannot be a “Great Teacher” is half of what is said is a lie. One cannot be a “Great Prophet” is the words spoken are not dependable. So, either He is who and what He claims, or he is nothing.

If a man is known for speaking falsehoods, lies, and deceptions, even if he occasionally does good deeds, is he the kind of man that could revolutionize the world even 2000 years after he was reportedly crucified? Why are there people who insist he is alive today? Will there be people 2000 years from now who claim I am alive? I doubt it. I will live and die in my time as will you, dear Reader, and, but for those who remember us, that will be all that is known here. So why, if Jesus was just a man, is he still celebrated the world over at his birth, death, and Resurrection? Oh yea … the Resurrection! HE IS ALIVE!!!

This is the ONLY logical explanation. He is ALIVE. He is still changing lives. He is still healing broken bodies and broken hearts. He is still freeing people from the weight of our sinfulness. He is still freeing people from addictions. He is still providing for those who call on Him for help. He is still rescuing us from ourselves. HE IS ALIVE!!! The TOMB IS EMPTY, but my heart is FULL!!! Is YOURS?

The brave, wandering knight sat atop his gallant steed drifting through the thick forest. He sought not a battle, nor the glory one imagines, but the quiet of a soft green clearing. He’d been riding for days, or maybe weeks. He was no longer certain, but the fighting was done, for now, and he sought a moment’s repose.

By an all but hidden stream he camped. He fed and watered his horse, then he walked an unmarked perimeter to stretch his legs, weary from long days in the saddle, and hunt for something worthy of his hunger. He lay down and slept, after munching on a few berries. In his sleep, he dreamed.

On the trail of an escaped villain, he easily followed the trail of blood. The villain was wounded, how badly, he could not tell. Miles he followed the broken branches and footprints into the forest, but no villain did he find. He did happen upon an old campfire, though, with the carcass of an animal still on the spit. Not warm, but not there long enough for the wild things to apprehend it.

Off to one side of the camp was a ditch several inches deep that ran wit a thick liquid he at first thought was blood. “That’s not blood.” he whispered aloud, relieved to discover the same. “Just thick, muddy water that’s been poured away from the camp. It seems our villain was not alone here. Perhaps this was a meeting place.”

Determined, he broke the string of his thought with purpose. He dare not imagine a pack of villainous lions prowling across the landscape unchecked. “All this time I was wrong!” He cried out tot he heavens in mourning for those, his companions, whose lives had been forfeit. He stood quietly and gazed into the forest. Perhaps, he had dumbly stumbled upon his destiny. Perhaps, he, too, would meet up with others to share his burden lest he be another in the broken string of heroes bringing villains to justice.

Farewell beloved fairy tales. It’s been great fun for a spell but reality beckons with urgent cry. “Heroes needed. Gutless need not apply!”

Once upon a time, there was a very small girl named Sophie. Her favorite thing in all the world was shoes! No really! Her mother used to put her in her room, open the bottom drawer of her dresser, and there to her wild and wondrous imagination was a treasure chest filled with shoes! Brightly colored shoes, shiny patent leather shoes, flowery little sneakers, and her favorite – pink “clicky” shoes! Sophie, as a very small girl, played with her shoes for hours, mixing and matching while her imagination soared.

One bright morning, Sophie’s mom opened the drawer for her to play. It wasn’t long before a strangled cry startled her mother who then came running to see what was the matter. “Sophie, dear, what on earth is wrong?”

“No worries, my sweet! This used to be me! Let’s see where this shoe could be!” Mom said. “Is it under your bed; please look and see. Is it under your dresser; please look and see. Is it under the rug; please look and see! I don’t see where, oh where your shoe has gone.” Mom stood with her hands on her hips and gazed around Sophie’s room.

She thought back to the days of her own girlhood with a sigh of sweet nostalgia. A stiff tug on her shirttail and that all-too-familiar “mommy,” startled her back to the trauma at hand. She turned and picked up her little bundle of fun and gave her a quick snuggle, then whispered in her ear, “Do you think your shoe might have crawled under your blanket?”

Sophie squealed with delight as she ran to her bed and peeked under the blanket. Lo and behold it was there! Sophie gave mom’s leg a quick hug and dove back into the play. As a parent, they never tell you that part! it wasn’t long at all before the lost shoe was forgotten. Things were never better!

Thanks so much to BEKINDREWRITE for her skilled encouragement and support in our mutual writing adventure!