Just a few weeks ago I joined Twitter.
Now if you don’t know what Twitter is, it’s a website (twitter.com) through which users can send brief messages for free.
Although Twitter was designed so that you could tell your friends and others what you’re doing, Twitter has evolved.
What I like best about it is the positive quotes and messages I receive. Some of them really touch my heart while others inspire me.
I’m wondering…
Have you heard or read anything positive lately?
Or…
I’ve been following a story in the news….a story that had a very ugly beginning. Since it was such an ugly story, I only skimmed it.
Here’s what happened. A family was driving from a spot of recreation and they were shot at by a man and wife who had signs on their property saying that trespassers will be shot.
Several of the family members were injured. One of the children, a seven year old boy, died from his injuries.
Now that has to be terribly devastating for a parent, right? I can only imagine how that would affect me, but I won’t go there.
Instead, let’s go to how the story turned beautiful.
It was in 1998 that I began one of the most difficult challenges of my life. What began as a large ugly red spot on the top of my left hand turned into something I would never have imagined.
Because my husband urged me to go to a doctor, I finally did. But I was reluctant to go. I was pretty sure the ugly spot was eczema, and I knew that medical doctors prescribe steroid creams for such things.
My brother Robert had warned me about steroids. He suffered from eczema on his hands for many years and had studied remedies and their effects.
What I remember him saying was that at first the steroid creams work well. But continued use just makes the eczema worse. So he chose to use natural remedies.
What should I do?
With Robert’s words in mind I chose to go to my allergist rather than a dermatologist. And I ended up with a steroid cream prescription. So I used the cream, and it was working well.
And then the eczema got worse…much worse… and it spread to my right hand.
It was months later, and we had a holiday weekend trip planned. The eczema was so bad that I wrapped my hands in gauze because the skin on my hands was so raw.
So on Labor Day weekend we were in Corpus Christi, Texas. My husband insisted on taking me to the emergency room to get my hands checked. Although I was fortunate to be free of pain, we endured a long wait for patients with urgent needs to be treated.
Have you ever had to wait in an emergency room?…
Finally, I got my turn. The emergency doctor recommended an antibiotic to prevent infection, so I recited a long list of antibiotics to which I was allergic. He then prescribed an antibiotic which wasn’t on my list.
And I faithfully took the pills.
Several nights later, back in Houston, I had an allergic reaction to those pills…..not a severe reaction… just a rash, but I was a bit worried about it. So my husband drove me to a clinic that was open at night.
At the clinic I told the doctor what had happened. His remedy was to give me a cortisone shot. I told him that I was reluctant to take any more steroids because of my experience using steroid creams.
But he assured me that this is what’s best for my situation, and he would give me a low dose.
Well, he was a medical doctor, far more educated than I was about the human body. So I accepted his remedy.
Did I make the right choice?
By: Joyce Marie
My husband, Brian, finds happiness from saving bees, one bee at a time. Where does he save bees? Right in our backyard.
Just outside his office is a swimming pool, and since there is a door right there by his desk, Brian frequently goes outside for a break – when the weather is nice, of course. While out there, he scans the pool for any unfortunate bees that are struggling to get out. Almost every day he finds one.
When he spots a bee exerting all its energy, going in circles in the pool, Brian makes his move. He wants to save the bee that cannot fly because its wings are wet. Picking up the bee on his finger, Brian knows this bee wants to be saved.
The bee clings to his finger, and Brian has no fear of the gentle bee. The poor bee is disoriented, not knowing where it is. It just wants to survive, and it is grateful to be on Brian’s finger.
Brian nudges the bee to keep it moving. As he watches, the bee tries to dry off. It raises its rear end upward and uses its little legs to wipe itself dry. Then the back end of the bee goes down and the front end goes up. The bee then uses its front legs and feet to dry its head and antennae.
The wings of the bee are stuck to its body, so Brian lifts up the wings to help them get dried out. After a while, the wings begin to whir like a helicopter or the propeller of an airplane. Then the bee zooms off, like a helicopter!
As Brian watches, the bee heads toward him,