Senior Olympics Fun
Flory took off with the speed of light!
Residents took a trip with several of the North Florida Directors to spend a day with other homes and stakeholders. Residents entered into several Olympic events. Residents had lunch and got to listen to the local middle school band, as well as, a little bit of blues.
Prayer for Hall of Fame
Master, Potter, we know You make known the riches of Your glory on the vessels of mercy we recognize this evening, those which You have prepared for glory. We come to Your workshop and place Phyllis Bullock, Glynn Dasher, and Buddy and Kathy Pennington, these honorable vessels, with Your blessing, on the table in the banquet room of the Signature HealthCARE Hall of Fame.
Father, we know You do not cast them in the Potter’s field, but You break, mold, and use them because You have prepared a supper this evening through the hands of those who have set up, cooked, and made this event possible. These and all individuals who serve You and their neighbors are vessels of honor. We are thankful that on the Potter’s wheel these individuals we recognize this even did not become hardened, but were pliable in Your hands as You fashioned them after Your likeness full of love and service.
Thank you, Master, for touching these vessels so they are honorable in their service. They are as a cup that flows over and as a platter that bears much fruit. We praise them for being vessels of example, simply pouring out their lives and displaying the fruit they contain. Although these vessels become aged through this journey of life and are used daily, each one is preserved with beauty and grace at the hands of You Lord, the Potter. As a candle is lit in the center of a banquet table, Jesus, the Potter, is the Center of our Joy. He is the Light that drives out darkness, and by His Word His blessings are pronounced. The Light shines radiantly to reflect the creative designs of silver and gold on each earthen vessel. How beautiful are the earthen vessels that we honor this evening!
The owner of this world’s museum, Satan, passes by daily inquiring to purchase one of these vessels, but You, oh God, inform him that these are priceless vessels of Yours and belong to Your household. These vessels we honor tonight, which serve and love others, are not vessels who have sat in a museum idle, but they are on display as a symbol of historical reference.
Father, these individuals are of use even now. You, the king, have each one of these vessels and each one of us. These Hall of Fame vessels never collect dust. God’s fine china are Your everyday vessels! These vessels we honor are always on the table ready to serve and be used, because all souls who enter the doorway are important to You. Through the power of the Spirit, the miracle is in these vessels!
For Paul said, “We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us (2 Cor. 4:7).”
Father, we just lift up these individuals and their families this evening to say thank You for allowing them to be Vessels of Honor.
Bless the food we are about to partake, may it nourish our bodies and may our lives be a vessel of love and service which displays us as a family who are individually characterized as “Vessels of Honor to God!”
It’s in Your most precious and honorable name we pray, amen.
Chaplain Uses Guided Imagery to Enhance Residents Thinking
Our chaplain utilizes his laptop to encourage and motivate residents. This gives them value, self-worth, and hope.
SCARLET TO SNOW
Isaiah 1:18
- This chapter begins with verses one and two telling us the reason for Isaiah’s message. Something is going to happen to Judah and Jerusalem, God’s people.
- In verses 10-20, we see the reason why problems are fixing to occur. Sins of scarlet are shown, but then Isaiah tells them what they must do to wash their sins away and to be white as snow.
- In verses 10-20, Isaiah writes, and I will read it from the Hebrew context.
“I just told you about Sodom and Gomorrah, learn from them, because you are compared to them as I speak to you. Listen, you leaders of Israel, men of Sodom and Gomorrah, as that is who you are acting like and I am calling you as one of them. Listen to the Lord. Hear what He is telling you! He is saying, “I am sick of your sacrifices. Don’t bring Me any more of them, I don’t want your fat rams; I don’t want to see the blood from your offerings. Who wants your sacrifices when you have no sorrow for your sins? The incense you bring Me is a stench in my nostrils. Your holy celebrations of the new moon and sabbath, and your special days for fasting—even your most pious meetings—all are frauds! I want nothing more to do with them. I hate them all; I can’t stand the sight of them. From now on, when you pray with your hands stretched out to heaven, I won’t look or listen. Even though you make many prayers, I will not hear, for your hands are those of murderers; they are covered with the blood of your innocent victims. O, wash yourselves! Be clean! Let Me no longer see you doing all these wicked things; quit your evil ways. Learn to do good, to be fair and to help the poor, the fatherless and widows. Come! Think about this matter, says the Lord; no matter how deep the stain of your sins, I can take it out and make you as clean as freshly fallen snow. Even if you are stained as red as crimson, I can make you white as wool! If you will only be willing to let Me help you, if you will only obey, then I will make you rich. But if you keep on turning your backs and refusing to listen to Me, you will be killed by your enemies; I, the Lord, have spoken.”
THE SANDPIPER: an inspirational story by Mary Sherman Hilbert
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
“Hello,” she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
“I’m building,” she said.
“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.
“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.
“That’s a joy,” the child said.
“It’s a what?”
“It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye, joy, I muttered to myself, Hello, pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed. my life seemed completely out of balance.
“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.
“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”
“Mine’s Wendy… I’m six.”
“Hi, Wendy.”
She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. “Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
“I don’t know. You say.”
“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Then let’s just walk.”
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter. “Where do you go to school?”
“I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. “Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.”
She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Then this is a bad day.”
“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and…oh, go away!”
“Did it hurt?” she inquired.
“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.
“When she died?”
“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. “Hello,” I said, “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.”
“Not at all — she’s a delightful child.” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.
“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. “She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered. “She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with “MR. P” printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues–a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words–one for each year of her life–that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand who taught me the gift of love.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
National Nurses’ Week: A Special Blessing
Prayer asking for a blessing of the hands of the nurses during National Nurses Week. Each nurse was challenged to touch and bless others, especially those who work under them.
National Day of Prayer
On Thursday, May 2, 2013, Signature HealthCARE celebrated the National Day of Prayer with its elders, stakeholders, and their families. A welcome was given by Chaplain Brad Tate. Ms. Walker offered thanksgiving for answers to her prayers. All the stakeholders then joined together for a prayer for the facility, each other, the nurses, staff, and for our future of hope. Several led personal prayers (Mary Davis, Lucy Kennedy) for each other and for themselves, including our wonderful administrator, Brad Nobles.