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A little girl learns that summer fun can be more than just a trip to the swimming pool. Vacation Bible School was a life-changing experience-glitter and all!

Little girls learn to sink or swim. We must keep our eyes on Jesus to live a life of faith in the face of storms.

We all need a little attention, but Jesus should take center stage of our lives. God calls us to be humble and to joyfully serve Him.

Family get-togethers can be wonderful or horrible. We can learn to enhance our family relationships by gracious speech and genuine appreciation. Make your holiday reunions special!

Every family has a "bad seed," a relative with a shady reputation that soils the family name. We all have the "seed of sin" and need new life in Christ.

SCRIPTURE STUDY Psalm 91 PRAYER FOCUS Dear Jesus, Help me to recognize Satan’s schemes and call on You to protect me. I know that You have promised to send your angelic hosts to guard my steps. I place my life in Your care. Amen BUG JITTERS Bugs give me the willies. They always have. They always will. If I had my way, I’d strap a ten-pound can of Raid to my back and wear a pair of size thirteen stomping shoes for spider-smushing. My jungle-dwelling missionary friend Kristina was happily drying her post-shower behind when a tarantula the size of her head appeared on the dry side of her towel. Though she grew up in a conservative Baptist home, she learned to dance a mean jitter bug in her skivvies that morning. If I were in her shoes (or bare feet as the case may be) I’d be dead from heart failure. I haven’t even mentioned the baby boa constrictor she found in her son’s closet! There are no creepy crawlers in heaven. How do I know? Insects are of the Devil. Remember the Egyptian plagues and the locusts of Revelation? I rest my case. “Thus saith the Lord, ‘Neither buggeth, nor wormeth, nor roacheth nor spidereth shall inhabit my holy home.” 1 Julie 1:24. I believe Paul the apostle wrote something about dogs being in heaven and cats being in hell (although I’m not quite sure). I’m praying Effie my ferret out of purgatory. She was a biter. Four-eyed entomologists swear that we need insects to balance the earth’s ecological system. They teach that Kermit the Frog and the Geico gecko would skip supper without a few fried flies and pickled potato bugs. Don’t worry about the amphibians. Let them check out the dollar menu at Taco Bell. If it’s good enough for Chihuahuas, it’s good enough for froggies. In my estimation, a bugless world is Utopia. No more fire ants will zap my ankles and torment my daughter’s pudgy dachshund Beauford. No cockroaches can infest my sugar bowl when I go on vacation. No mosquitoes an feast on my flab when I hike through the woods, and no ticks will torment my golden retriever when she forages through the oleanders. No centipedes can find refuge behind my guest room toilet on a hot June day and no desert scorpions will wag their stinger tails on my patio in devilish defiance. Invisible pest predators are the worst. During my preschool summer days, chiggers infested the lush bermuda grass in my backyard and took up residence between my toes. The more I scratched, the more they itched and scooted around underneath the skin on my lumpy feet. Daddy said nail polish would suffocate the little boogers, but Mom disagreed and washed me in a chigger soap that smelled like rotten eggs and black tar. The chiggers died but nobody would sit next to me at Vacation Bible School. Tiny black ants surreptitiously invaded my chocolate chip cookies at the church picnic and added extra zing to my red Kool Aid. The wicked stings of “no-see-‘ums” at the lake (Daddy didn’t know their proper entomological classification) gave me welts on my posterior. Yes, the most irritating bugs were the ones you couldn’t see! My abhorrence of all things “insectual” began at an early age. Elvis Tiggle lived two doors down and hoarded mayonnaise jars filled with nasty creepy critters. A wolf spider (not werewolf), a cricket (not Jiminy), a praying mantis (really an agnostic), a katydid ( oh, no she didn’t) and a beetle rounded off Elvis’ collection. Elvis’ mother bought him a set of pipe-cleaner antennae at the five-and-dime. He skulked around the neighborhood garages lurking in dark corners just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting little girls like me. I retaliated with a spray bottle of Windex. The goopy cleaner wasn’t poisonous, but it made his little antennae wilt and stick together. Elvis’ bug-bullying reached new heights when he was allowed to bring his monstrous arachnids to show and tell in second grade. Petula the tarantula appeared on top of my boiled carrots more than once. I swore off vegetables until Thanksgiving. Thank God Petula ignored my Three Musketeers! My second grade teacher Mrs. Snyder assigned us partners to create an insect collection for science class. Elvis Tiggle was my partner. Why God, why? Couldn’t I have some dainty little girl who liked grasshoppers and butterflies? But God was on my side. I let Elvis grab all the bugs he liked. He gassed ‘em and speared ‘em. All I had to do was draw little nametags on post-it notes with magic marker and grab a frame at the drug store. It was such an easy “A” I picked Elvis again when it was time for frog-dissecting. I smiled behind my mask and stood a safe distance away while Elvis gleefully chopped up all the froggy guts. Our froggy croaked, but Elvis and I passed amphibian surgery with flying colors. Ladybugs and doodle bugs were safe little girl insects. If you gently touch a doodle bug on his roly-poly black back, he’ll scrunch up into a little ball and roll down the sidewalk. Doodle bug marbles and doodle bug bowling were two favorite summer pastimes for my sister and me. However, my sister Kathy preferred lady bugs. Their bright red and black spotted shells made them fashion icons of the bug world. Florescent butterfly wings flapping in the breeze paled in comparison, fireflies glistening in the night sky were a “flash in the pan” but ladybugs were practically perfect in every way. Lulu, our favorite ladybug, minded her manners when she scuttled up Kathy’s forearm, tickling only a little bit. She didn’t even holler when my little sister pulled off a leg or two. I hold the firm belief that most women marry for the sole purpose of having someone large and brave around to do all the cricket chasing and spider smashing. Men can also prove useful for light bulb screwing and pan scraping. Other than that, males are totally superfluous to our existence. The splat of a june bug flattened on my car is poetic justice for all the emotional trauma I have suffered from creepy crawlers through the years. I feel a sense of wicked exhilaration knowing that my windshield is the last thing going through his little june bug mind. When I see something hairy or squiggly, I simply call my husband’s name and the “shoe fairy” rescues me from peril. He is my strong, brave Terminator. I shall fear no weevil. Satanic attacks are often unexpected and invisible. They surreptitiously suck the fun out of life. Demon-bites of the enemy can get “under our skin” and cause us misery and fear. “Baal” in the Bible means “lord of the flies,” and the baals of Israel were the bane of their existence. We must put our own idols aside and find our rest and protection under the shelter of a powerful God who loves us and a Savior who has trampled Satan under His feet. PSALM 91 “Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 This I declare of the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I am trusting him. 3 For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague. 4 He will shield you with his wings. He will shelter you with his feathers. His faithful promises are your armor and protection. 5 Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor fear the dangers of the day, 6 nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday. 7 Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you. 8 But you will see it with your eyes; you will see how the wicked are punished. 9 If you make the LORD your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, 10 no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your dwelling. 11 For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go. 12 They will hold you with their hands to keep you from striking your foot on a stone. 13 You will trample down lions and poisonous snakes; you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet! 14 The LORD says, "I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. 15 When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue them and honor them. 16 I will satisfy them with a long life and give them my salvation." NLT List some occasions when you have experienced the protection of God. From what did He protect you? Did you find yourself under attack because of poor life choices or because of suffering for doing good? How do these verses address the fears you face? List some of the word pictures that are used in this psalm to describe perilous situations. What are God’s promises of deliverance and protection? List them here. Make a card of these promises and place them in your car and in your home.

Benefit of the slop or benefit of the doubt? Social media and magazines rake in bazillions of dollars by cashing in on our curiosity. Who did what to whom? The juicier the better. Gossip can also fuel the fires of dysfunction and dissension in our churches. “Tattle-taling” grows into “rumor milling” until innuendo becomes scandal. Apparently, gossip is an age-old problem. Solomon writes, “A perverse man stirs up dissension, but gossip separates close friends.” Proverbs 16:28 Identify gossip when it rears its ugly head. Refuse to fuel the fire. Set the record straight. Confront when necessary. Even if there is a grain of truth, give the person grace rather than condemnation. “Pray for the gossiper and the “gossipee”! Remember faith in God and others always brings healing. Gossip begins with an over-developed sense of nosiness. Snooping and sniffing for the dirt. Noses are nifty little facial appendages. They sniff, smell, sneeze, snort and snore. Our noses are supposed to help us savor the scent of a flower or to take a whiff of Aunt Ivelle’s Summer Rose toilet water. They were designed to warn of danger and help us taste our food. But mostly, noses run, bleed and provide an endless supply of crusty nuggets for mischievous little boys to pick and flick. Noses come in all shapes and sizes: pug, pointy, perky, flat, flared, hooked and stubby. One might think that human schnozzes would surpass the olifactory skills of God’s lowly creatures. Nothing could be further from the truth. My golden retriever, Surely, can sniff the hiney of a Doberman and immediately know if he is a fast friend or fiendish foe. My vet, Dr. Poage, tells me that a canine can sniff a puppy pal’s poop and determine the sex, age and kind of kibble his doggie buddy scarfed. Boy doggies sniff chair and table legs to see if interlopers have invaded their territory and peed in their domain. Goody, my pesky, overly suspicious Corgi, leaves a yellow trail around my grand piano legs to show whose boss of the house. Why stick your nose where it doesn’t belong: in someone else’s business? “Curiosity killed the cat” is a warning for people and puppies alike. Some stones should be left unturned. Harold, the paunchy tabby down the street, became bald as a billiard ball when he “curiously” sniffed and pawed the Sunbeam hair dryer precariously perched on the bathtub ledge. Harold was never the same again. His litter box was moved to the garage. Marge Minshew, the hefty alto in the church choir, was overly “curious” about every member of Cockrell Hill Baptist Church. Somehow she forgot to read Paul’s warning in 1 Timothy 5:13-14:”Besides, they get into the habit of being idle and going about from house to house. And not only do they become idlers, but also gossips and busybodies, saying things they ought not to.” Marge lingered in the bathroom stall to hear the latest tasty morsel about Art Palmer’s late hours at the office. She was convinced Jody Boyd, the church secretary, was swiping ten dollar bills from the Sunday offering plate. How else could she pay for that fire-engine red patent purse? Pastor Jones must be a ladies’ man, Marge surmised, because he slathered way too much “Bedhead” mousse through his brown wavy locks. Behind every coat closet and water fountain, Marge would gleefully glean her gossipy tidbits. Armed to the teeth with half-truths and innuendo, she began her calling crusade. Marge phoned Peggy, Peggy dialed Betty, and Betty called the entire Women’s Missionary Union to warn them of chinks in the pastor’s armor and skeletons in the deacons’ closets. With each phone call, the tales were tattled and the sins of the saints grew. By the time Ethel Bentley got the scoop, Art Palmer was a pimp and Pastor Jones was an axe murderer. Marge’s nefarious nose must be stopped up. Pastor Jones preached a fiery four-sermon series on “The Tongue is a Fire” from the book of James but Marge remained clueless, even when her husband Ed elbowed her in the ribs. She “amen’d” and cried “preach it, Pastor,” glaring at the sinners and backsliders seated in the row behind her. Marge really needed a nose job. Someone should have lobbed that sucker clean off her face. Nothing seemed to face the self-appointed “Baptist private eye.” She was sure the finger pointing applied to someone else. One reason Marge was oblivious to her shortcomings was because she always couched her remarks in the form of “prayer requests.” “Pray for Velma Peabody,” she moaned. “God has revealed to me that she has fallen off the wagon and hit the bottle again. Didn’t you see the rum raisin cake she brought to Wednesday night dinner?” Big deal. Paul told Timothy to take a little wine for his stomach. It was first-century Pepto-Bismol. But the Good Book warns, “…you can be sure your sin will find you out.” Marge stuck her snoopy nose out too far. Elba McElroy wandered over to our little congregation from the Methodist church down the street. Not enough sewing circles…When Elba joined the Baptist biddies, Marge had met her match. Elba gave her a taste of her own medicine. If Marge had “roast preacher” for Sunday lunch, Elba had “roast Marge” for Sunday dinner. Elba invited Marge and Pastor Jones to her house for pie and coffee, and Marge had to face Pastor Jones eyeball to eyeball. The Holy Spirit did the rest. The moment Marge got back to her old tricks and started the phone chain on the latest scandal, Elba grilled her for the details and checked her story. Marge finally decided the manure she was shoveling wasn’t worth the trouble. She had been cut down to size and the snooping stopped. If I had given monikers to the seven dwarfs (not small in size but small in soul) I might have named them Grumpy, Grouchy, Lazy, Fussy, Sleazy, Nasty and, the worst, Nosey. Now the only thing Marge Minshew sniffs is warm chocolate cookies straight from the oven. We should do the same. Identify gossip when it rears its ugly head. Refuse to fuel the fire. Set the record straight. Confront when necessary. Even if there is a grain of truth, give the person grace rather than condemnation. “Pray for the gossiper and the “gossipee”! Remember faith in God and others always brings healing. “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8 NIV

Loving our near ones is a reflection of God's unconditional love for us. We must love our neighbors as ourselves by being hospitable and accepting.

Brothers and sisters often struggle with intimacy and unity. God longs for us to love our near ones unselfishly and humbly.

Every little girl needs a father or grandfather in her life who models the intimate, caring, faithful love of God the Father. Grandpa B did just that.

Faithful friends are hard to find. We often model critical behavior and conditional love. True intimacy includes acceptance, respect and comfort.

Having a new baby in the home can be traumatic. Young siblings are unaware of future joys that will result. Help your child understand how to love the baby.