CLIPD* tip: Coffee filters

What do you do with the leftover coffee filters now that you have a permanent one?
These tips were sent to me via another Deep South pal, former Ohioan:1. Cover bowls or dishes when cooking in the microwave. Coffee filters make excellent covers.
2. Clean windows and mirrors. Coffee filters are lint-free so they'll leave windows sparkling.
3. Protect China. Separate your good dishes by putting a coffee filter between each dish.
4. If you break the cork when opening a wine bottle, filter the wine through a coffee filter.
5. Protect a cast-iron skillet. After cleaning, mop up the extra moisture to avoid rusting.
6. Ball up a lint-free coffee filter & apply shoe polish to maintain leather shoes in this downturn.
7. Hold tacos. Coffee filters make convenient wrappers for messy foods.
8. Line a plant pot with a coffee filter to prevent the soil from going through the drainage holes.
9. Prevent a Popsicle from dripping on you. Poke one or two holes as needed in a coffee filter.
10. Sponge grease by putting filters on a platter before you place down fried bacon, fries, etc.

*Cindy's Leanings In Personal Downsizing

A BEGGAR'S PLEA, Part Two

When does God respond to a prayer request?

• a. Forever, because it has to be repeated over and over, and over again.
• b. Never, because I don't pray. I provide for me or rely on seen entities.
• c. After I share my woes to friends who believe and pray for me.
• d. Before it's uttered it to anyone, God responds.

This was my beggar's plea, "Please, redeem this day." This prayer I whispered the morning after the cancelled date with Tia. And God responded 10 p.m. with a phone call from Tia.

"I'm sorry Cindy," her voice soft, sincere, "I didn't have your phone number so I let my son handle the message. He doesn't always relay things clearly. Someone couldn't work so I had to substitute... I forgot it was today..."

Grace slipped through her words to clarify matters and calm me. We rescheduled our date for the next day. I headed down to her house, petted their new poodle puppy. Then we switched cars so Tia could be the driver. I met directors and caseworkers, verbally pressing my case for the best dishwasher not yet employed, my special son, my Buddy. Handsome Buddy came along, also, his leather bound resumé and recommendations in hand.

With Tia's prodding we waded the path through public services. Along the way we pathfinders chatted and smiled politely as we listened to directors and caseworkers. Tia witnessed me wedged between the bureaucratic rock and hard place, how A instructed me to proceed with Bud's plan at the agency B, when B told me instead, "No, you have to wait for another case manager to be assigned and then have A contact us." Sigh!

I pressed my need to know the way to go, and with Tia's help we got all sides on the same page. We kept my original documents in hand, just in case the copied papers got lost in the cracks between ever multiplying public servants. But lest I digress into frivolous taxation for the frivolous... our date was a success in insight. We finished date at Buddy's favorite, freckled faced eatery, so he could order a "Number 6."

The answer to my beggar's plea came with a single Whopper and salad, plus a new friend to be my Connection buzz in the land of red clay and crepe myrtle.

The correct answer to the question, "When does God reply to a prayer request?" is certainly D, in Due time, Before we even ask. Before my tears could well again, before I collapsed into bed, the phone music rang. That 10 p.m. call from my new pal was the start of a better day, a redeemed day, a good, ten hours before my 8 a.m. prayer. I was too tired to see the evening dawn a new day.

Ten days later, this day's beggar's pleas continue as another day dawns, joyful in Jesus.

A Beggar's Plea, Part One

"Redeem this day," I pleaded, eyes shut, thumbs crossed, fingertips under my chin. It was more a beggar's plea then the widow's demand before a judge.

I had no excuse for the previous day's rush into isolation. I should have taken a leisurely walk as MBH, my beloved husband, gently urged me to do. Instead I stayed inside as the afternoon sun banished the gray clouds outside.

9 a.m. that day I smiled, ignoring the clouds as I backed out of my garage. In an hour I would spend the day with Tia, a Purdue alumna and a mom with adult kids and an adopted special teen. 25 years in the South, she cleared clay paths through the red tape of government services for her family.

She offered to chauffeur me down those paths the next day if we met at her house. But first I needed gas for my empty tank. I also needed groceries for ever-empty Buddy, six feet tall, and 187 pounds.

Thank God for a nearby Kroger's Marketplace/gasoline station. "My Maria" drove her car there, too, so she and Bud could take the groceries home. She parked. I fueled my van. I parked. We all sprinted into the store. Racing the aisles, I directed the kids to grab the essentials and go. This mama's body and spirit were giddy on a non-caffeine buzz, "Connection," the buzz flavor of choice.

Suddenly the cell phone rang a reality check. Tia's special teen told me his mom had to cancel the plans. I shut the phone and told the kids to slow down.

A week before Tia asked me, "Have you been here long enough to get the culture here, how slow things go?"

It's almost 365 days since MBH moved here to work. It's been nine months since we joined him. We've waded the southern swamp life with a lingering patience that should be redeemed for a reward. 2008 is over, we're fifty plus days into 2009. Still my kids sit with the jobless masses.

Research shows networking nets jobs, opportunities. Folks here offer help, friendship. Few seem to follow through. As for Tia...

I quickly exited the store, blinking hard so I could drive safely home.

"Cheer up, Mom." Buddy patted my back in the car. Sweet Bud, so unhurried is he about life, about that job, yet so quick to speak comfort, to rescue, to redeem the day.

My son tries to walk in the footprints of the Perfect Son, my Redeemer who lives to redeem each day, be it sunny or cloudy. But that day the clouds left the sky to crowd my mind and then rain.

I needed time to find my beggar's plea fully met . . .
To be continued.

CLIPD* tip: Free Sunday Ads and Coupons

Don't buy a Sunday newspaper.You can get Sunday ads and coupons for free. You can read the weekly store ads online, a tip I still have to learn. Go to SundaySaver.com Or you can click to the stores' websites to access a weekly ads. They are available Sunday and are up until the next weekly ad comes out in newspapers.

I have printed coupons from Coupons.com Make sure you click on the box for the item you want. The site may ask to download a printing coupon file from their site in order for you to get the coupons you check.
*Cindy's Leanings In Personal Downsizing

PROVERBS 16:9

Snow on Sunday? Snow in the Deep South? Snow before the D.C. Global Warming March?

I already made my plans for Sunday. Ads told me four Wii game systems were on sale at each Walmart location. Over the steering wheel I asked God for a direct, safe route to the store that had at least one system for me. The van could travel four compass points so ubiquitous are Wally’s Worlds here.

Buddy and his new friend Math joined me on the trip. Math, a Nintendo-Wii gamer, is another special young man with a social list of twenty friends on speed dial. On that list, he added Buddy. So cool for Buddy to have a friend who read words and knew numbers a bit better than he. So cool for Math to come shopping with Bud’s mom who was Wii clueless, but wanted the guys to enjoy gaming at her house.

Earlier we sat at the contemporary service. After closing the drummer announced, “Hey, there’s a meeting outside...snowball fight!” During service, snowflakes fell, thick enough to blanket on rooftops, dry lawns, parked cars, and pine boughs. Bud and Math grinned as coatless teens chased each other, with snowballs in gloveless hands. One soaked guy hurried inside and explained, “I’m waiting for my hands to un-freeze so I can get my car keys out of my pocket.”

The Deep South temperatures rose above freezing. So after supper out, a stop at home, and the afternoon shopping trip, I sighed as the snow blanket had all but disappeared from the front yard.

Still the last Wii in stock was ours! MBH (my beloved hubby) said he’d install the system with me. We had the HDTV, but we also had an ancient DVD player with no HDMI port. Like Buddy, Math knew when to be quiet and when to voice suggestions. Four hours later, Math had to go hom. The Wii lights blinked, but the TV was silent black—So much for my plan.

While we fought cables indoors, God played outside, tossing millions of snowflakes over our neighborhood. Across the street bundled kids rolled balls into tiny snow people. Teens threw balls. Where was my son while we fought cables?

Buddy joined the outdoor delight. He got his mom’s camera wet, recording the Winter Wonderland before it melted away.

The next day I learned the storm moved up the frigid U.S. Eastern seaboard, canceling the planned Global Warming March.

The trouble with humane plans is the human in them. Many mornings I’ve constructed grand scenarios before I said “Good morning” to God. God orchestrates the best plans for me, for all humanity. In my heart I may plan my course, but God determines my steps, steps within the footprints of the One and Only Son.

Jesus’ holy footprints will outlast
any carbon footprints we leave
on a tiny planet that will yield
to a new earth and perfect heaven.