When Time Runs Out...

 When Time Runs Out, What Really Matters?

I’ve been thinking about something lately, and the more I think about it, the more I realize just how much our priorities can change as we get older.

When we’re younger, we sometimes spend so much time wanting the best of everything. A nicer car, a bigger home, expensive clothes, or a beautiful watch. We work hard for these things, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying what we’ve worked for. But as the years go by, I find myself asking a different question…

When our time here on earth is over, how much of that stuff will really matter?

Think about something as simple as a watch.

A Timex might cost $40, while a Rolex could cost $40,000. Yet both do exactly the same thing. They tell us what time it is.  I do not own a timex and I certainly do not own a Rolex.

And that got me thinking…We spend so much of our lives wanting bigger, better, newer, and more expensive things. We sometimes convince ourselves that having the very best means we are living our very best life.

But does it?

When our time here on earth comes to an end, that expensive Rolex will keep ticking, just as the inexpensive Timex will. Neither one will care who wore it, how much money was spent on it, or how important its owner might have been.

And neither one is going to heaven with us.

The truth is, God doesn’t measure the value of our lives by the price tags on our possessions. He looks at something far more precious…our hearts.

Did we love others? Did we lend a helping hand when someone needed us? Did we offer forgiveness, show compassion, encourage someone who was struggling, or give without expecting anything in return?

Those are the things that matter.

There’s nothing wrong with owning beautiful things or enjoying the blessings God has given us. But somewhere along the way, we need to remember that the finest things in life aren’t always the things money can buy.

A Rolex might impress the people around us, but a kind heart can leave an impression that lasts for generations.

And y’all, here’s something worth thinking about…

One day, every clock we own will continue marking the hours, but our earthly time will have come to an end. The possessions we worked so hard to collect will belong to someone else. What will remain is the love we shared, the lives we touched, the faith we lived, and the difference we made.

We can’t take our watches, our houses, or our bank accounts to heaven. But the love we give in Jesus’ name has an eternal significance that no earthly treasure could ever match.

So perhaps the most important question isn’t whether we’re wearing a Timex or a Rolex. It’s what we’re doing with the time God has given us.

Because when it’s all said and done, it’s not about how much our watch was worth.

It’s about how much our time was worth to someone else. ❤️

Shug......

Migrating Trampolines

As seen on Wildlife and social media reports....it is now the start of Fall trampoline migration season.  😂

According to experts, the North American Backyard Trampoline (Bouncus Maximus) is a seasonal migratory species that typically remains dormant throughout the summer before becoming airborne during the first significant wind event of Autumn.  

Per "Texas Inspiration"

I thought this Joking post was funny.... I've actually seen flying trampolines cross over fences and end up in a pasture 200 feet away.  

Even though it was very windy around here yesterday, I did not see any trampolines flying through the air.  

Y'all have a great day...

Shug...

 

About the Barb-bob wire fence

Y'all, I have a question for you this morning, and I have a feeling the answers might depend on which side of the country you grew up on.

Do you call it BOB WIRE or BARB WIRE?

Now, I know the proper name is barbed wire, but down here in Texas, I’ve heard it called everything from barb wire to bob wahr! And truthfully, I don’t think those cows standing on the other side of the fence care one bit what we call it.

The cows know that it’s there for a reason!

 I learned a lesson about Barb wire fences the hard way!

Let me take y’all back a few years. Okay, maybe more than a few, but who’s counting?

I was just a young girl, spending time at my grandmother’s house. My cousin and I were doing what kids did back then. We were outside, entertaining ourselves, climbing trees, and probably doing a few things our parents would have frowned upon.

We had decided that climbing a pine tree sounded like a wonderful idea.

Anyone who knows anything about pine trees knows those limbs aren’t exactly made for supporting little girls with big adventures on their minds.

But did we know that?

Apparently not!

Up we went, climbing higher and higher, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

And then it happened.

CRACK!

The limb I was standing on decided it had held me long enough!

Down I came!

And wouldn’t you know it, of all the places my body could have landed was right beside the fence we had just used to climb up into the tree on.  My thumb found the BARBED WIRE FENCE!

Not the soft grass. Not a nice little pile of pine straw.

NOPE!

My hand met that rusty, sharp, unforgiving wire, and my thumb paid the price!

I can still remember that awful cut.

It's barely visible now, but inside that black circle above was my long scar.  

Now, if you grew up in my generation, you already know what happened next.

There was no rushing to an urgent care clinic. No fancy first-aid kit with twenty-seven different kinds of bandages.

We had Ma Bertha, (My grandmother) who seemed to be well educated in taking care of cuts like this.  

And Grandmother had something that could supposedly cure just about anything.

MERCUROCHROME!

Oh, mercy!

Does anybody else remember that little bottle of reddish-orange medicine?

That stuff was a childhood legend! Scraped knees, cut fingers, bicycle wrecks, you name it. If you were bleeding, somebody was headed for the Mercurochrome bottle!

Ma Bertha, took one look at my thumb and went straight into action.

Out came that famous little bottle, and onto my thumb went the medicine. Then she found a clean handkerchief, tore off a strip, and pulled that cut together, wrapping it nice and tight.

And just like that, according to Ma Bertha, I was going to live, and she sent us right back outside to play..

One thing I can tell you for certain…I never again had the desire to climb a tree anywhere near a barbed wire fence!

Funny how some childhood lessons don’t require a second teaching.

And speaking of barbed wire…

Have y’all ever stopped to think about how much of that stuff stretches across the United States?

Miles and miles and MILES of it!  Here in Texas, 

it runs alongside country roads, stretches across pastures, separates ranches, and marks property lines that have been there longer than some of us have been alive.

Some of it is shiny and new, stretched tight between sturdy fence posts. Other stretches are rusty, sagging, and held together by what looks like a little wire, a prayer.

If those old fences could talk, can you imagine the stories they could tell?

 Shug.....

 

Wordless Wednesday.

 


Wordless Wednesday.....

Shug.....