Beverly Joy Roberts

The Christmas of 1999, I received the best Christmas gift of my life.  It may not have been special to anyone else, but to me, it was and is  my treasured possession . This is the story leading up to the Christmas of 1999.   My uncle was a missionary in Sri Lanka in the 1950s.  While he was there, he purchased a large yellow-colored jewel and gave it to my grandma as a gift on one of his trips back to the United States.  The jewel was unset and stored in a black velvet bag.   My grandma tucked her cherished gift away in her dresser drawer, and there it stayed until 1973 when she died. While sorting through my grandma's things following her death, my mother found the black velvet bag with the jewel.  She took it home and put it in her jewelry box.  I remember taking it out on a few occasions to hold it in my hand.  It was beautiful and felt good resting in the palm of my hand.    Then in 1975, my mother died, I was 18.  When we went through her jewelry box, I saw that y

I have been known at times to have this little problem called  righteous indignation .  It’s where you hear something and become enraged over the injustice another person has suffered unfairly.   I have verbally railed again such things in the past.  I was quick to speak and slow to listen.  I shared the stories of others, who I felt had been treated incorrectly, to let anyone who would listen know, I felt this behavior was wrong.   I’m sure at this point you may be thinking, and what’s wrong with that.     Sounds perfectly reasonable.     Well, it does, and it is if you have all the facts correct.  I sometimes don’t get all the necessary information correct before I ranted, then later, I would find out I responded to quickly or incorrectly with the limited or wrong information I had received.   The facts have a way of setting things straight.  We may not always like the facts, but facts never-the-less speak the truth. Here are some interesting facts from Zechariah 7:8

Some people want to do everything for themselves.     They refuse help when it’s offered and whatever their motivation was, this usually results in an unsatisfactory outcome.   I’ve had this happen to me before.  I offer my help.  I can see exactly what needs to be done, but I’ve had to step back and watch someone struggle unnecessarily.    There are two verses in Haggai (1:5-6) that when I read these, I’m sure God must be standing back and saying if you would only let me help.    Now this is what the LORD Almighty says:  "GIVE CAREFUL THOUGHT TO YOUR WAYS.  You have planted much but have harvested little.  You eat, but never have enough.  You drink, but never have your fill.  You put on clothes but are not warm.  You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it." In Matthew 14, there is a young boy who brings his lunch to the disciple called Andrew.  Andrew then takes the boy and the lunch to Jesus and you know the rest of the

In the movies, it is common to see a scene where a mother will be singing over her child A Song Of Love to calm or to sing the child to sleep. When I was a new mom, there were no classes available on godly childrearing.  There were some worldly books, but nothing other than the Bible for training up a child with Christian values. I learned from what I could remember from my parents’ example and from watching other new moms at church who were months or years ahead of me in the process.   There definitely wasn’t a class called Baby Singing 101, but in March of 1978 my motherly instinct kicked in, and I began to sing over my first-born son.     Sometimes I sang spiritual songs and other times lullabies. I sang songs of love .   I  whispered  words of love in my baby’s ear,  “You are special to me.”   “You are a gift from God.” “There is no one else like you.” “My heart is happy and full because of you.” " I love you.”   The sound of my v

My husband loves my name.    Yes, I’m well aware that Beverly is an amazing name, and what’s not to love.  Beverly was also my dear mother-in-law’s name.  I remember the first time my husband told me his mother’s name was Beverly, I thought, does he think this is a slick pick-up line…and of course, I didn’t believe him.  We were 15 and 16 years old. But true enough, we had the same name and even the same middle initial.   The reason I know my husband loves my name is that he ‘calls it out’ about 100 times a day.   “Beverly, come here.” “Beverly, I can’t find _______.” “Beverly, do you know where my _________ is? "Beverly, come help me." “Beverly, where are you?” …and when we are not in the same place, he’s calling me on the phone while I'm in the check-out line, at the doctor’s office, in the car, doing the laundry and other places I don't care to mention. I think you get the picture.  It’s probably the same at your house too, if you insert