Kindness: Receive It With Gladness, Give It Away With Joy

We love garage sales! And today we set out early on a hunt for a new dining room table for our growing family. After some searching and a few disappointments we came upon a perfect match for our needs.

We measured.

We pondered.

We purchased.

And then we wondered out loud, ” How are we going to get this thing home?”

The chairs were no problem. We could geometrically adjust them into the back of the SUV until they all fit like a giant puzzle. But the nearly 8 foot long table top and base was going to present a problem.

Hmmm.

In stepped the garage-sale-stranger-out-of-nowhere. “Let’s throw your table and chairs on my trailer and I’ll follow you home.”

Well, of course, he must know my husband?

Nope.

Maybe he is a good friend of the home owner?

Nope.

Just a kind stranger stepping in to help out others with a need. And he did just as he said he would. He helped us load, followed us a few miles out of his way, unloaded our treasure at our home, and drove away without any expectation in return.

We found much more than we bargained for today.

Turns out, this stranger is a principal on summer break, helping out a couple of strangers who happen to be teachers buying a bigger table to spend quality time with children, family, and friends.

Kindness keeps on giving.

Kindness trickles.

Receive it with gladness and give it away with joy.

 

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To Have and to Hold

They’ve spent 50 years together

as husband and as wife.

50 years to have and to hold

through every part of life.

50 years of hanging on

in good times and through bad.

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,

through happy times and sad.

50 years of sickness and health

until death shall they part.

50 years of holding these vows,

from this day forward, in their hearts.

Happy 50th Anniversary Blessings to my Parents, Dennis and JoLane Filkin

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh. -Genesis 2:24

Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate. -Matthew 19:6

 

 

A Toast from the Mother of the Groom

When my son asked me to give a toast at his wedding reception I knew it would be emotional. After all, I had been battling random tears and joyful sobs since my baby became engaged.

How did he get here?

Grown up.

Married.

It goes way back actually. I think it started about the time of potty training!

Oh yes. I remember that moment when he decided to go in the potty like a big boy. So proud of him. Learning and growing and making good choices is hard work!

Some days were more difficult than others. Because learning to choose is so hard, from time to time we offered a reward.

His favorite? Matchbox Cars.

How proud he was to stand in front of that great big toy aisle. His little eyes scanned the huge selection. His tiny finger pointed as he said, “Mommy, I want that one!”

And my baby boy continued to grow.

Ready for Kindergarten now. How could it be? So proud of him. Learning and growing and ready to make good choices with the help of other teachers.

This was a big step. He would need a backpack.

He was so proud to stand in the Back-to-School aisle. His nervous eyes examined the display. He knew how important this moment was. This one choice would carry everything he needed between school and home every day! And as his finger pointed he said, ” Mommy, I want that one!”

And my little boy continued to grow.

Those school years passed by so fast. He did such a fine job, my son. We were so proud that he found a job and learned to be responsible.

One day  he announced he had found  a car he wanted to buy. He had saved his own money. He wanted to buy it himself.  As we drove into the lot, his eyes beamed with pride. His finger pointed as he said, “Mom, I want that one!”

Oh. How he did grow, my boy.

And the time? It continued to pass. He came home one day with a girl. She was lovely and sweet. I watched them grow closer together. I could see them learning about each other. I could see love grow in their eyes.

In time, my son looked at this girl with eyes filled with deep love.

He knew.

And I knew.

He proudly said, “Mom, I want that one!”

And so here we are. My little boy has become a man. And after a lifetime of learning to choose, we are so proud!

Here’s to “the one”!

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love. – 1 Cor. 13:11-13

Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. – Proverbs 3:3

 

 

 

 

 

A Closer Look at the Book: Grasshopper Bubblegum

Grandma and Grandpa lived on a dairy farm just a few miles from home. We were fortunate to spend many days on their farm throughout the 70s and early 80s. Playing on the farm was always an adventure. Working on the farm became a delightful chore.

Grandma was creative. With lots of grandkids running around she had to be on top of things. There was plenty to do to keep busy, but Grandma was a genius for encouraging us to be productive in our play. She had many clever incentives to inspire this productivity and keep us out of her hair!

Some of my favorites?

Climbing to the very top of the tree for the best mulberries. Sometimes we even took a sandwich and a jug or canteen of water up with us, just in case we wanted to gather berries through the lunch hour.

Filling buckets with thistle was a thrill. We got to cross the road (by ourselves) and hike out far from the house. We were sure we were even out of Grandma’s perfect sight! Grandma offered a penny per thistle in the bucket upon our return. No matter how long it took, our buckets were always full.

And of course I will never forget the garden chores as described in Grasshopper Bubblegum.  Filling our jar with grasshoppers. Trading grasshoppers for Grandma’s pennies. And walking into town to purchase bubblegum.

I wonder if she knew the true value of her pennies. I wonder if she knew these seeds she had planted would grow crops of wisdom, ingenuity, work ethic, problem solving, cooperation, patience, sharing…

These were her true gifts. They are priceless. And she shared them with me.

If you would like to know more about Grasshopper Bubblegum visit my website http://www.shellysimoneaustories.com

I would love to hear from you! Until then…

Keep up your good work,

Shelly Simoneau

To Be Remembered

Happy 70th Birthday to Daddy!

Shelly Simoneau Stories

So many of my stories share the examples of a father’s love and leadership witnessed during my own childhood. Some of these memories are tough life lessons. Others are the most splendid father and daughter moments. This Father’s Day I am so thankful to have been blessed by the love and guidance of my Daddy.

At a recent storytelling event at Burlington Elementary School, I entered the audience with a question.

“What would Daddy do?”

The kids had some great ideas.
Many shared their own wonderful reflections.
They all really wanted to know what Daddy DID do!

Imagine their surprise when I told them Daddy was in the audience that day! The crowd came to a stand, clapping and cheering expectantly for Daddy.

Now keep in mind this was a father they did not know. My Daddy. Connected only to the audience through the story told that day.

Yet, they…

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A Closer Look at the Book: Snake Tree

Mother and Daddy love to fish on the Neosho River not far from home. Back in the 80s they had quite a story to tell when they returned from a day of fishing . I listened to that story. I soaked up the details. And I remembered it. Now I pass Snake Tree on to others.

Why did I remember this story that Daddy told?

Was it the excitement and thrill of a threatening snake? Or the humor of Mother climbing up into the tree? Maybe it was the suspense of Daddy fending off the snake with his pole, like a sword, as it slithered closer and closer to the boat?

These were all captivating details for me. But it was the hidden meanings, the deeper message, that drew me in.

Stories that carry forward a deeper message have a projective purpose. An impact.

I remembered the story because of its impact.

Connections. Rich lessons. This shared story continued its offering beyond its telling.

Respect of nature.

Importance of attentiveness.

Value of cooperation.

And the big one… There really are ‘snakes’ in this big world trying to get into people’s ‘boats’.

The Snake Tree has become a true place for my family. Like a family landmark. A reference point when we talk about the river.

It’s a landmark we can return to. A landmark we can learn from. It’s like a really good story.

If you would like to learn more about this book visit http://www.shellysimoneaustories.com

You can also find me on Facebook. I would love to hear from you! Until then…

Share Your Stories!

Shelly Simoneau

A Closer Look at the Book: Tinker in the Tanker

Daddy worked a new job in the winter of 1979. After losing his business in a devastating fire (Daddy Was A Carpenter) he and Mother had to take new jobs to make ends meet.

And so began an unexpected journey for our family.

It was adventurous.

It was unfamiliar.

It was hard.

But I thought my parents were heroes. I could see the struggle, yet I knew everything was going to be okay. Why? Because we believed.

Daddy drove a milk truck for Fairmont Creamery in Council Grove, Kansas. As we had done before, Sister and I took turns going to work with Daddy. This story is the memory of my turn.

I had seen my daddy work hard, putting in long hours.

I had seen my daddy finish the job he was responsible to do.

I had seen my daddy’s courage, even through the dark times.

On this trip? It would be my turn.

If you would like to know more about this book visit http://www.shellysimoneaustories.com

I would love to hear from you! Until then remember…

You can do anything!

Shelly Simoneau

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. – Joshua 1:9

A Closer Look at the Book: Daddy Was A Carpenter

Sometime the middle of the night, at some point in the Spring of 1977, Mother woke us.

She was hurried.

She was serious.

Something was wrong.

I learned about loss that night. I would get to know the feelings of hardship. It would be the first time I had ever seen my daddy cry.

Prior to that night, our family had been enjoying a season of splendor. Days were filled with much laughter. Much joy. Even as a very young child I could see the value of hard work. I witnessed a community, working together, building the Wilsey Lumber Yard strong. It was a time of rejoicing. Of giving thanks.

And then suddenly, in the dark of night, began a season of sorrow. Daddy’s business became a smoldering heap of ash.

This new moment? Confusion. Disbelief. An abrupt introduction to mourning.

These are the devastations we could choose to stash away and forget.

Forget the tears.

Forget the loss.

Forget the ashes.

But what if we choose to remember? What if we choose to share the disappointments that make us cry? What if we choose to share those memories that we would rather forget?

That moment, the memory, becomes truly significant.

And we can be changed.

And those ashes? They can become a song of hope. Yes. In their own way, they can become beautiful.

If you would like to know more about this story visit http://www.shellysimoneaustories.com

I would love to hear from you. Until then…

Always Hope,

Shelly Simoneau

  

A Closer Look at the Book: Wash Creek

Growing up on the farm meant spending a lot of time outdoors. A favorite place to explore and do the work of children was at the creek. Elm Creek runs just an easy walk down the gravel road from the house.

My sisters and I spent time there in every season.

Sometimes we would find the creek bed all dried up. We hunted for fossils and bones and looked for signs of creek life.

Sometimes the water was covered with ice and snow. We dug through the snow with sticks and broke the ice with rocks.

Sometimes the water flowed freely and the sound was so gentle and peaceful. We just stretched out on a big slab of rock and soaked up the sun and the silence.

Occasionally, after heavy rains, the water ran high and fast. I feared the creek on those days, and kept my distance.

Our friends loved the creek too, joining us on our hikes, enjoying the pampering of a picnic, wading in the cool water, and skipping rocks. If the water was low enough we leaped across, back and forth. (We would often return home with a muddy foot or two!)

The name of this special place changed for me after a very memorable father-daughter moment in the late 70s. On that rainy day, Daddy and I stood together in the rising creek. I was scared of the water. But Daddy beckoned me to trust him there. He gave me an opportunity to overcome a fear.

He reached out and held my hand that day, and all my fear was washed away. In its place came joy and dancing and laughter.

In my heart this old familiar Elm Creek was a new place. I called it Wash Creek.

That day I believed I would be able to accomplish just about anything. Some of those things would be hard and feel dangerous. Some of those things I would not completely understand. But I would not have to be afraid to step out and try. That memorable day I was filled with confidence, joy, and trust.

You can find more information about this book and others on my website www.shellysimoneaustories.com and my page http://www.facebook.com/ShellySimoneauStories. I would love to hear from you!

Joy and Laughter,

Shelly Simoneau

P.S. Many times over the course of my childhood I recall my parents turning around at the creek. Why? Because the water was not safe to cross. I was able to trust Daddy that day because he had proven his wisdom in his previous actions. Be safe. Turn around. Don’t drown.

The View is Free

Shelly Simoneau Stories

Highway 56 is my familiar road home. I’ve traveled it many occasions. I ‘ve grown used to the traffic, the landscape, and the rural acquaintances. However, on my latest trip back, something magnificent caught my attention. Magnificent in a free and simple kind of way. Hay bales.

That’s right. The simple beauty of hay bales.

At EXIT 147 take a left. Travel through historic Council Grove heading west. Pass the goats. Pass the ostrich. Look for the “stop tree” (my young babes named this recognizable tree so many years ago). Turn left. First right. Home.

Ohhh… but not this last visit!

At EXIT 147 take a left. Travel through historic Council Grove heading west. Pass the goats. Pass the ostrich. Look for the … oh my!

There, just beyond the “stop tree”, this beautiful display of hay bales.

I had to stop the car. I had to get out. I…

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