The Ranks of the Bleary-Eyed

November 11, 2022 by  
Filed under Humor, Stories

By Liz Cowen Furman –

As a child, I never understood why my Mom and Dad were such sleepyheads on Christmas morning. Then we had kids, and my husband and I joined the ranks of the bleary-eyed. (All despite heroic attempts to get everything done before midnight). Yet even in my sleep-deprived state, I could not believe the joy it gave me to watch our kids’ faces as they peered at the gifts under the tree. It was as though their smiles and delighted squeals transported me back to my own childhood Christmas mornings, only better.

One year, in a feeble effort to get more sleep, Dave tied a rope to the doorknob of the boys’ room and pulled it across the hall closing it in our door so that they couldn’t open theirs until we opened ours. We laughed ‘till we cried when the boys woke at 5:00 a.m. and couldn’t get their door open. You should have heard the ruckus. We still laugh about that every Christmas.

When I was a youngster, my parents gave the countdown and my sisters and I tore into the gifts all at once. Dave’s family took a different approach that once I adjusted to, I love also.

Here’s how it worked. Christmas music drifted through the room, everyone munched on gooey homemade cinnamon rolls and the adults sipped coffee, as the boys sorted and handed out the packages. Then, one at time, starting with the youngest, the opening began. It was such fun seeing what everyone received AND their reactions.

The smallest in the group could play with their gifts and their stocking contents that we all opened at once before we began, while the older ones carried on with the opening. The result was a lovely, relaxed family time punctuated by a few great laughs when someone would open one of Papa’s goofy gag gifts. We still practice this method today with our nearly grown children and whoever we are blessed to have under our roof on Christmas morn.

I never understood why, if it is Christ’s birthday, we get the presents. So, when our kids were little, we started a new tradition. We all wrote what we were giving to Jesus on a card to put in His stocking on the mantel. After all the gifts were opened, someone would read His last (He is the oldest). Notes like the one Micah wrote when he was about eight:

Dear Jesus,

For Christmas for You I bought a present for the family we adopted through Angel Tree.

Love, Micah

I loved those days when our kids were little, but having adult kids has its merits also. Like the fact that because they are so tired when they come home from college, we practically have to drag them out of bed on Christmas morning.

The traditions we kept over the years with our boys have become my fondest memories of the season. Like Baby Jesus’ birthday party and white elephant gift exchange on Christmas Eve or gingerbread house making parties.

When people whine that Christmas decorations are going up in the stores too soon, I’m thrilled. It means my kids will soon be home and that we will be celebrating my best friend Jesus’ birthday. What could be better? Merry Christmas!

A LOT of Hot Air!

October 14, 2022 by  
Filed under Humor, Stories

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Every autumn, in Dubois Wyoming, near Yellowstone, we close and winterize our little motel, the Black Bear Inn. Draining the pipes prevents ruptures owed to the savagely cold winters. On several occasions, we have had to hire help to flush out the pipes. Last year, the men we contracted waited until after the first hard freeze. Their incompetence blew several expensive connections and cost us irreplaceable time while hustling to open in the spring. At that moment, we vowed to do the work ourselves, because replacing the cracked insides of nearly every toilet was such a pain in the drain.

When the time came to close the motel this year, all my assistants from home either fell ill or had prior engagements. Lee, my wonderful housekeeper, and her daughter, Sky, saved the day by helping prepare. However, we are not plumbers and were at a loss as to how to blow out the pipes once we drained them. During prayer request time at our church, I asked God to send anyone who knew plumbing preservation to help us accomplish this seemingly insurmountable task. God answered our prayer in the form of a cheerful handyman who volunteered to come the following morning and not only help but teach us how to do it ourselves.

Minutes into the project, our geriatric compressor blew a fuse and died. Generously, Lee volunteered the brand new compressor she recently purchased for her husband. After a few minutes of its service, the second compressor blew a gasket and perished. I called the local hardware store, whose owner was a dear friend of my late father-in-law, to inquire about renting a third compressor. When I arrived at the store he said, “I have the compressor for you, follow me.” We arrived at his place to find a compressor the size of my dining table mounted on a truck.

Once started, the compressor blew out the pipes in 30 minutes. However, it was so powerful we could not keep everything closed without blowing off the faucet heads. We solved this by opening all the faucets on the top half of the motel, then opening them all, to finally close the top leaving the bottom open, then repeat. It blew so much hot air that my hand under the sink faucet felt like a blow dryer was turned on it. Amazing how the right tool for the job makes it go more smoothly. It took us from about 9:00 am to 3:00 pm to find that tool but once we did, life was a breeze (more like a gale force wind).

Paralleled in our spiritual lives, issues arise where we don’t know what to do, or how to react. I have so often tried resolutions of my own. Inevitably, when I have killed my “geriatric compressor” (or brain) I resort to turning to the Lord. At least I used to. Now when something comes up that I’m not sure how to handle, I “seek WISDOM” in God’s Word, in prayer and from Godly friends.

James 1:5 states, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (NIV).

I am determined to ask God for help as a first resort from now on, rather than a last one. Join me?

Popping, Snapping, Clicking, Whoosh!

September 21, 2022 by  
Filed under Humor, Stories

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Our little motel near Yellowstone in Wyoming finally joined the 21st century. Armed with a grant to cover the cost, the telephone and power companies joined forces and installed new fiber optics and updated power cables.

When the men came to visit with me about their plan and how they would have to trash my big flower bed, they seemed so afraid to tell me. They were scared of my reaction. It was early August and my flower beds gush flowers during August.

What they didn’t know is that even though I was able to coax and cajole that particular flower bed to produce beautiful blooms, it had been quite difficult to do. Rocks, rocks and more rocks, an old tree stump and old water and power lines made it nearly impossible to turn over the dirt. When I heard they would be coming to dig it up I was so excited! Their shocked faces were priceless when I asked “How soon can you get here to begin?”

Finally, our day came. The men arrived early in the morning to warn me so I could transfer the perennials to holding crates until they were finished. I watched them as they began the process of gouging across the bed and through the drive.

Standing near the edge of the 5 foot-deep hole, I discovered that the old stump was actually an old telephone pole that had been sawed off. It was three feet long. No wonder I couldn’t dig it up.

The man running the back hoe was coaxing giant rocks out of the opening. Just as I was about to say how close he looked to the wires, we heard a popping-snapping-clicking sound, and then “WHOOSH”.

Black smoke and big flames sprang from the line as it snapped. The man standing in the hole with a shovel jumped out in one terrified leap.

We looked up just in time to see the same flames and black smoke enveloping the side of our motel. And then nothing. The power was out. Not just on our property but all over town.

I had guests arriving in a few hours and no electricity. Our motel is not posh, but we at least have electricity. We waited for the electricians to come check it out. It took several hours and what they discovered was that the old telephone box, the one that is no longer in use, took the hit for the entire motel. I couldn’t believe it. (Secretly, I had hoped for new wiring…ha ha).

The electricity was knocked out clear to the substation but in just a few hours they had us back online. Before the guests even arrived.

I couldn’t help but think how amazing it was that the box took the hit for the entire motel. It kind of reminded me of how Jesus took the hit for the entire human race. I am ever thankful for that fact, and ever amazed that he would die for my sins, before I ever committed them. He died for you, too.

A New Red Light District?

August 20, 2022 by  
Filed under Humor, Stories

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Brick Red. How hard can it be? Much to my chagrin, I discovered that when one goes to a hardware store to choose and purchase paint it is wise to look at the color before leaving the store.

We were in the middle of the rebuild of our little family motel near Yellowstone in Dubois, Wyoming and had at last come to the painting of the garage. I posted a before picture to our Black Bear Inn Facebook page. We tore out the dilapidated old dog fence left by the previous managers, sent piles of detritus to the dumpsters, scraped, washed and vacuumed the building in preparation. I even found several perfect planters at a garage sale to put around outside and filled them to brimming with petunias that would make the place look inviting to our guests as they ate the s’mores we serve by the river campfire nightly.

After much deliberation, it was decided that we should paint the old cinder blocks brick color with white trim. You know that dark burgundy-ish old brick color.

My nephew, Jake, and I went to the closest lumberyard-only seventy-four miles away!- that carried five gallon jugs of paint, picked out the beautiful sample and commissioned a nice gentleman with the task of turning our world red.

When picking up the finished product I noticed that the sample he put on the color swatch wasn’t quite the color we had ordered but I assumed it must still be wet.
When we commenced painting, the color was very orange. Almost glowing orange. I so wish we could post pictures with these articles as that would be the laugh of the day. We kept saying, “It will dry darker.” But it did not.

The next Saturday, when I went to pick up my Bountiful Basket my dear neighbor asked if we were opening a new “red light district” over at the motel. It practically glowed orange. Ugh.

Since the garage needed two coats of paint I decided to give the guys at the lumberyard another chance. I went in and showed them a picture of my swarthy garage on the iPad. The man who waited on me was mortified; he assured me the next 5 gallons would be the correct shade.

When I picked up the finished jug this time I inspected the color closely. PINK. I couldn’t believe it. The woman at the desk said it is “the best they could do.” I politely explained that we could not have an orange OR a pink garage. So I left empty handed.

A few days later on a trip to Casper a nice man at Home Depot mixed the perfect color for me. It was the exact right color, that is until I painted it over the orange, at which point it turned an interesting shade of brown. I’m thinking the pink might have been better.

Now we have a rather different colored garage. I am amazed, but the new shade is growing on me.

The motel teaches me lots of lessons. This week’s was to go with the flow. I am learning to not sweat the small stuff, and with the exception of a very few things it is all small stuff. I love a saying my Dad would use when we were growing up and things would go wrong: “If this is the worst thing that happens to us today we are set.” He was right.

All the Flowers in the World

July 31, 2022 by  
Filed under Humor, Stories

By Liz Cowen Furman –

We journeyed to our little motel full of hopes that the aging plumbing and electrical systems had weathered the winter and would spring to life as easily as they had the year before. Jake, my 20 year-old nephew, was coming to Wyoming with us to work for the season. This was his first time to visit the gorgeous country we are so blessed to live in during the summers. I warned him that it was back-breaking work, with long hours, especially that first week. But I had no idea…

After traveling 12 hours we pulled the van into the driveway of the motel just as the sun was setting. We managed to get the power up and running, but because we have to be present when the water comes on, in case of major leaks, we had to wait until the next morning to get the plumbing going. Fortunately, the rain collection bucket near the apartment was full to overflowing so we could have a “flush.”

The next morning, we were so sad to discover that the folks we hired to blow out the pipes waited too long the previous fall. We had SEVERAL major leaks to contend with. Joints blown out by water left in the pipes when that first hard freeze happened meant three days of crawling under the motel, partly on my belly, trying to locate and repair leaks. I discovered that if I wore long sleeves and pants, gloves and a hat, I wouldn’t get bitten by any little critters under there. All this with no shower. I’m sure I was a charming sight (and smell). I, however, now know how to repair ANY part of a toilet, sink, and (amazing to me!) the large intake valve to an 80-gallon water heater. Every cloud has a silver lining.

If our little family motel in Dubois, Wyoming has taught me anything, it is that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13 NKJV).
As I crawled along under the motel, I kept thinking about the million other things I should be doing to get ready for our first reservations to arrive on June 1st . Like planting the flats and flats of flowers wilting in their little pots. But the water has to come first. It’s the funniest thing, if there is no water for our guests to take a shower in and drink, all the flowers in the world won’t make a difference, but when there is water the flowers are an amazing addition.

Kind of like our lives, if we don’t have Christ, all the fluff of the world isn’t worth a thing, but become best friends with the Creator of the universe, and suddenly there is a kind of joy, even in hardships, that outshines anything the world can offer.

Every year opening the motel is an adventure, and every year I find many similarities between running our business and running our lives. Both always go better with Jesus at the helm.

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