Like everyone, I have a story. I almost succumbed to whooping cough at six weeks of age. This and other factors likely contributed to the word “sickly” written across my forehead. Since that time 69 years ago, I’ve struggled with physical and emotional illness. At age 43, I developed Addison’s disease (adrenal insufficiency). At first, it was no big deal–I simply popped a steroid pill every morning and went on my way. As I’ve aged, it has become harder to stay healthy. I  now find myself with diabetes and other endocrine and autoimmune diseases. But my blog posts this month will not be about illness, but rather about health and what nuggets of scripture teach us about being well.

I believe God wants His people to live in physical, emotional and spiritual health. This doesn’t mean we won’t have a crazy rare disease or at times question our abilities or our spiritual growth. It means we must rely on His amazing grace when the physical, emotional and spiritual collide–or when the tears come at night and we wonder where to go next in this maze of emotions and symptoms–when all around, expectations from others are mounting.

Join me this month as we:

  • Talk about the desire to be well.
  • Learn to give more time to Jesus than to our aches and pains in our everyday conversations.
  • Strive to give up unhealthy habits.
  • Become more positive even in the ups-and-downs of our lives.
  • Rest–physically, mentally and spiritually.

Please see my online article, “Addison’s Battle,” at . Also, purchase a copy of Twenty-Five Days Around the Manger, either in hard copy (from me or Amazon) or on your favorite e-book reader (free from most companies).

I welcome your comments.

Go in health!

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Hark the herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild;
God and sinners reconciled.”
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,
Charles Wesley, 1739

Just for fun, imagine with me that there’s an angel named Herald. I think it would play out something like this:

“What’s the big deal about Herald? Everybody thinks he’s the best angel.”
“Maybe he is. You’re jealous.”
“No I’m not. He toots his own horn like he’s somebody special.”
“He’s not tooting his own horn. He’s telling everyone about the new king.”
“King? He’s a baby. You see one baby, you’ve seen them all.”
“Oh I don’t think so. This baby is special.”
“How do you know?”
“I just read about him.”
“Oh that’s right, you’re the reading angel. I can’t do that either.”
“Don’t feel bad that you’re the angel in charge of getting people out of the mud. That’s an important job.
“Anyway, listen to this: “And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:8-12)
“I’ll talk to you later. I gotta get one of the shepherds out of the mud so he can go see the Baby King.”

An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them…Luke 2:9a.

This is just one of the 25 entries in the book, TWENTY-FIVE DAYS AROUND THE MANGER. You can get your Kindle copy in a few short weeks.

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The following is my introduction to TWENTY-FIVE DAYS AROUND THE MANGER, which will be out in Kindle form the first part of October. Just a little something to whet your appetite.

To My Favorite Chicken Thief

Little Georgia Lou’s father had an old car in the yard. It didn’t run, but didn’t have to for her purpose. Georgia Lou excused herself from the breakfast table. She quickly did her chores so she could go out and get in the car. She took her hymnbook, rolled the windows up and sang to the top of her lungs, “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning.” This and other old (yes, they probably were old even then) hymns kept her occupied much of the morning. Looking for cheap entertainment for your kids? Keep your old clunker and purchase a used hymnal.
But yes, as she grew, she became a little wild, as teens will do. It was Halloween night. She and a few friends found an old dark farmhouse. There it was, a chicken coop. They couldn’t help themselves. It simply was too easy. One of them (surely not my mother) grabbed a hen through the fence. They went to a vacant lot and built a fire. They then cooked and tried to eat the chicken. “That was the toughest chicken I’ve ever eaten — before or since.” With that, I think she learned her lesson. For the next eighty-five years she has been an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.
Mother and I laugh, cry, pray — and even talk together when she can get a word in edgewise. I have recently started doing more of the cooking. She is so gracious. As I bring out still another new recipe, never does she say, “Why don’t you do it the old way or just throw a roast in the skillet?” Instead, she says, “Do you want me to chop your onions or brown the meat for you?”
I’m thankful for this closet singer turned temporary outlaw turned blessing to many, whom I call Mother.


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This blog is dedicated to my husband, David Magee, who just turned 70. Happy Birthday to a great guy who often sticks to something even if it means swallowing a little dirt. I’m not sure why the determination this time. Maybe he wanted to show the other kids he was the real deal. Or maybe he just needed the minerals.

I love to tell the story,
For those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting
To hear it like the rest.
I Love to tell the Story,
A. Catherine Hankey


“David and Bobbie and I used to make mud pies. Bobbie and I pretended to eat ours and then threw them over our shoulders. David ate his.”
“You guys were wimps,” David responded with a grin.
David and Gary’s friendship spans over 65 years. They remember riding tricycles and playing cowboys together. Every time we meet, we tell the same stories as if for the first time. We laugh and cry just as hard each time we hear them.
Once when we got together, our daughter, Judy, joined us. “I know a lot more about you now, Dad. I think I have enough scoop to blackmail you.”
When we get together, we tell another Story over and over. We share different experiences, but all come through the shed blood of Jesus.
My sister, Jodie, and I talk almost daily. We compare grandkid episodes—her nine grands and seven great-grands and my five grands. One of us grammar fanatics might call the other for no other reason than to share a misplaced modifier she read in the newspaper. Jodie keeps me informed on current events.
We also discuss the Old and New Covenants, Jesus’ healing ministry, predestination and free will. We compare sermon notes—taken 2200 miles apart. We may not always agree, but there’s that desire to dig in and learn more of the old, old story.
Denise rarely talks to me without sharing a word from the Word.
My 99-year-old mother lives with us. When she’s not making New Mexico enchiladas, biscuits or lemon pie, she’s usually sitting on the porch with her nose in her Bible. I can’t walk out to say good morning without her stopping me: “Listen to this. I’ve never noticed this verse before.” Or, “what do you think this means?” She’s one of those who know it best, but she’s still hungering and thirsting for more.
One of these days, we’ll celebrate in glory. We’ll talk about mud pies and Jesus’ love.

And they, continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved. Acts 2:46-47


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