Cozy Intrigue ~ Janet Campbell
The coziest place for a great mystery, some intrigue, inspiration, and fun. Stay cozy my friends.
True story. I started a Bible study recently about new beginnings. Where do new beginnings begin? With repentance. Real repentance. Transforming our minds repentance. (from the Greek, Metanoeo)
I want a new beginning. Forward is my word for 2026. So repent I did! Asking God to forgive me, to transform and renew my mind. I meant every word.
Continue reading “Stupidity, Thy Name Is …”Sometimes I struggle to smile and find the joy in life. I mean, we are living in a crazy time, aren’t we.
Is it just me or do you feel the same?
This past weekend, my family got a little lesson in joy.
Continue reading “Time For A Little Joy …”What do you see in your mind’s eye when you think of Easter?
Many memories from my childhood fall into that list. I mean, who doesn’t love a cute little bunny bringing chocolate eggs?
These are fun things we enjoy at Easter but, is that what it’s all about? The true meaning may seem like a mystery, but it’s not!
Continue reading “It’s No Mystery…”Welcome to A Southern Blessings Nugget!
You may ask yourself, “What is A Southern Blessings Nugget?”
It’s simple … a nugget of inspiration to bless your day.
“Yeah, but a nugget?”
I could call it an Amuse Bouche Blessing, but come on now, that just ain’t southern.
Be Blessed, Y’all!
Continue reading “Cozy Intrigue Presents …”After weeks of shopping, decorating, cleaning and cooking, Christmas 2023 is over. It came and went in what felt like five minutes. All that remains are a few leftovers still hanging out in the fridge, one stocking someone flung under the tree, the satisfaction of holiday success and the dreaded “un-decorating” of the house.
But, it was a great Christmas with family and friends. And once I settled my anxiety over the necessities of hosting, there was actual enjoyment.
This year, during the last few days before Christmas, I became aware our son had begun playing tricks with my nativity … specifically with the baby Jesus … the baby Jesus I hadn’t planned on putting out this year.
Let me explain.
Each Christmas our fireplace mantle displays a painting of the nativity and is covered in garland with angels, bells and shimmering trees. My decorations include a large nativity with animals, shepards and wise men on the entryway table. But this year, instead of the nativity on the table, I put out snowmen, candles, snowy scenes with little Christmas trees and glittery, festive baubles everywhere. My decorations looked lovely and Christmassy.
Then a friend commented about going to a Christmas parade and not seeing a single float that depicted the reason for the season, not even the church floats included a nativity. It was all holiday, holiday holiday, but nothing “Christ”-mas.
I stopped in my tracks, looked around at my own decorations, and despite the nativity painting on my mantle, I knew I must make my Christmas décor highlight the true meaning of Christmas, so out came Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Phew! Christmas crisis averted.
But then the games began …
I first noticed my nativity looked jostled. Mary or Joseph would be turned, looking across the room, not at the baby. Baby Jesus would be out of place. I was always readjusting them. Then one morning, it happened, baby Jesus was gone! There was Mary and Joseph gazing lovingly down at absolutely nothing.
My panic and search resulted in finding baby Jesus on top of the refrigerator. Knowing my son, I now understood the mystery.
That was only the beginning of this game. It became a daily hunt for baby Jesus. I found him with the snowmen. On the mantle. Under the tree. Even my husband became a “mover”. My guys were having way too much fun messing with me.
But I always found baby Jesus. He was never far away and I realized there was something to learn in our little family game … if you seek Him, you will find Him.
Christmas has become a season of apprehension. We fret over gifts, food, and decorating. Rushing to this event or that concert. These are all wonderful things but, when do we find time to fit Jesus into our holiday calendar?
Our little family game may seem silly, but it emphasized the importance of putting Jesus into every moment of the season. And even if we lose sight of him, he’s never far away. We will always find him.
Without Jesus, Christmas is just another holiday. Just another day off work or school. Without Jesus, Christmas has no real joy, no real reason for the season.
Christmas without Jesus? No thank you! I will seek Him and I will find Him.
I recently read a story from a man who grew up on a farm with a working windmill. Occasionally, they would turn the windmill’s power off for an extended period of time and birds would build nests in the ironwork.
As a young boy, his father sent him out early one spring to check the windmill before returning its power. He found an elaborate nest made completely from wire that a bird had apparently scrounged for over a few summers. But she built her nest in a hazardous location and it had to be removed.
Birds in a windmill … that got me thinking.
Continue reading “Birds In A Windmill”Abigail Mason was haunted for years by the mystery of why the windmill survived the storm … until she learned that God provided a Windmill in the Tempest.
1935, The Great Plains, Nebraska
Rotating darkness loomed above them, throwing jagged streaks of light to the ground. Wind swirled and rain began to strike her cheeks as they raced to the barn.
“Don’t stop, Abigail.” Her father’s voice rang above the raging storm. “Hailstones are a comin’. Move, girl! Move!” Fred Mason slid the barn doors open, pushed his wife through and grabbed Abby’s arm. “Let’s go. Get down the ladder.”
She watched her father struggle to slide the massive doors closed. He turned to see her standing behind him. “Get down that ladder now, Abigail.”
“What about Emma, Daddy?”
“Her pa’ll get her to where it’s safe. There’s no time … ladder now!” He snapped his fingers and pointed down.
The pale face of Abby’s mother beckoned, and her thin arms reached for her daughter. Moments later their little family huddled in the dark, dreary underground room. Wrapped in her mother’s arms, Abby heard the near silent whispers.
Deep, pleading prayers. Please, dear Lord, calm the storm. Protect us. Mercy, Jesus, mercy.
Abigail Mason, now ten years old, remembered two previous times her family ran from an oncoming twister. Thrust into this room again, the roaring manifestation of the approaching tornado engulfed her. Helen Mason’s prayers morphed into screams above the seismic waves underneath them as the merciless twister advanced.
Abby heard her own screams, too. She couldn’t stop them. Fear forced them from deep within her.
Fred Mason’s arms wrapped around Abby and her mother. “Dear, God. Dear, God,” were the only words he seemed to find. Abby squeezed her eyes tight shut and gripped her mother’s blouse.
Then, the calming dissipation. The roar quietened. Wind ceased. An eerie silence surrounded them. Except for … what? A creaking? An ominous squeaking and scraping.
“What is that Daddy?”
“It’s the windmill, Abigail. The windmill.”
1965, The Blue Ridge Mountains, North Carolina
Abby Mason awoke screaming, plagued by the same dream for thirty years. Running from the tornado, the roar, the earth shaking … then nothing. The dream held onto its secrets, refusing to unmask more memories of the aftermath. It would relinquish only the sound of the squeaking windmill.
The tornado took everything but the windmill. Even the barn above them was left in splinters. She knew, not because she remembered, but because her daddy had told her again and again about that day.
The squeaking windmill snatched her from sleep night after night. But why? Why wouldn’t the haunted sound of that windmill leave her alone?
Remember Abby. You’ve got to remember.
What was she doing before her daddy rushed toward her and pushed her into the barn? With eyes closed, Abby pressed fingers against her temples and tried to envision those moments in her mind. She was at the windmill. She wasn’t supposed to play around the windmill, but she and Emma loved to play there—
Emma! Emma had been playing at the windmill with her. What happened to Emma?
Abby grabbed her phone off the nightstand and dialed her mother’s number. Her daddy passed away two years ago, but maybe her mother would remember.
Or not. Helen Mason had been left a traumatic mess following the storm. Twenty people died that day. Had Emma been one of them?
“Momma?” Abby said after her mother’s panicked greeting at a call that hour of the morning. “What happened to Emma? Did the tornado take her? Was she one of the dead?”
“Let’s not talk about that day. There was so much hurt and loss. Are you still having the dreams?”
“Momma, I remembered I was playing with Emma at the windmill before daddy forced me to the barn. What happened to her? You have to tell me.”
“Oh, baby girl.” Abby’s mother sighed. “Your daddy saw the two of you playing. He yelled to Emma’s pa and they both started runnin’. Your daddy grabbed you and he thought Emma’s pa was behind him. After the storm … goodness the destruction … we found little Emma holdin’ on to the windmill tower. Her parents didn’t make it, Abigail.”
“Emma was alive?”
“Yes, praise God. It was a miracle she survived. Emma went to live with her aunt and uncle. I couldn’t stay there, Abby, so we moved away.”
“The tornado took everything except the windmill … and Emma.”
1966, Key West, Florida
Laughter rose from a corner table in a cafe on the historic seaport. The dreams were gone now, and though it took almost a year, Abby found Emma.
“Oh Emma, it’s wonderful to see you and hear all about your adventures.”
Emma wiped a tear that slid down her cheek. “My life’s been a roller coaster of story after story. But God has taken me many places, opened doors to share his goodness, and he’s blessed me. That old windmill may have haunted you, Abby, but like a ram in the thicket, God kept that windmill standing to deliver me from the storm.”
Abby took Emma’s hand. “Yes, Emma. God provided a windmill in the tempest.”
“Then Abraham looked up and saw a ram caught by its horns in the thicket.” ~ Genesis 22:13
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” ~ Isaiah 41:10
One moment can change your life forever. The mystery is navigating your next steps.
It all started on a cold November evening… but, let’s not go there.
January 2019 began with a bang. I made a major move to Colorado, and this little southern girl was in for the ride of her life—part good, part bad. It was uphill. It was downhill. Perilous one day, victorious the next.
Okay, okay, you get it. Moving on…
In a nutshell, 2019 was the best and the worst. The move to Colorado was an amazing moment in life full of hard truth, restoration, reconciliation and healing for my husband and me. Through it all, I’ve learned to live with a grateful heart for the smallest of blessings.
Continue reading “Closing the Gap”It’s a mystery that history has never solved. Who fired the shot heard ’round the world, the shot credited with igniting the Revolutionary War.
History records the war began on April 19, 1775. A small group of seventy-seven American militia came face to face with a column of seven hundred British Regulars on the town green in Lexington, MA. They had marched into Lexington to arrest Samuel Adams and John Hancock. (Unbeknownst to the British, Adams and Hancock had left Lexington)
The American militia group was under the command of Colonel John Parker, the British commanded by Major of Marines John Pitcairn. Either Major Pitcairn or another British officer approached the militia and yelled, “Throw down your arms! Ye scoundrels, ye rebels!” (Well, something of that sort)
Colonel Parker ordered his men to disperse. He had no desire for violence being that Adams and Hancock had left Lexington. As the militia broke ranks, someone fired.
Who fired that shot?
Following the battle, Colonel Parker, under oath, maintained he ordered his men not to shoot, but to disperse. As they followed his order, the British fired. Major Pitcairn, likewise under oath, stated he ordered his men to hold ranks, but not to fire. Once the shot fired, the American militia fired on the British.
Other American witnesses reported the British showed a lack of discipline that barred the British officers from restraining their troops. Pitcairn’s testimony gave credence to that allegation.
On that day, the British escorted a prisoner taken while they marched from Boston. Asahel Porter took the opportunity and attempted an escape, so it was possible British directed the shot at him. Asahel Porter was a causality on that day.
Other British reports stated the shot came from beyond the Lexington Green. Perhaps a shooter was hiding in a building or behind a stone wall. The British light infantry troops followed the shots with a bayonet charge, prepared to enter buildings before leaders could restore order.
So, did the British fire? Did the militia fire? Was a shot fired from the grassy knoll—oops, I mean—from beyond the town green? Did the British fire at an escaping prisoner?
Was this another magic bullet moment fired from nowhere by no one?
When the smoke cleared, eight American militia lay dead and nine wounded, with only one British injured.
Many say it’s best there’s no record of who fired that shot. Rumblings of war had begun long before that spring morning in 1775.
History will never solve the mystery of who fired “the shot heard ’round the world”. But it started the revolution that won America its independence.
“When we assumed the Soldier, we did not lay aside the Citizen; and we shall most sincerely rejoice with you in that happy hour when the establishment of American Liberty, upon the most firm and solid foundations, shall enable us to return to our Private Stations in the bosom of a free, peaceful and happy Country.”
—George Washington to New York Legislature, June 26, 1775
For a technical clarification, the shot fired in Lexington occurred in one of the first battles of the Revolutionary War. However, the phrase “Shot Heard Round the World” comes from a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson titled, Concord Hymn. This poem references the Battle of Concord, which took place later in the day of April 19, 1775, where American Minutemen defeated the British on the North Bridge. Huzzah!
Overtime, historians attributed the phrase to the shot fired in Lexington.
Sometimes I need a talking donkey.
The story of Balaam is fascinating and mysterious. He was a man who knew God and had seen His mighty hand at work. God spoke to Balaam. But—Balaam messed up.
I can’t be too hard on Balaam, I mean, I’ve messed up a few things myself.
Balaam had a lucrative gift, he could bless or he could curse. When the king of Moab had a problem, he called on Balaam to curse his problem. The king promised money and great honor.
Balaam had a sweet job lined up—if God gave the okay.
God did not give the okay and Balaam sent the king’s men back to Moab.
The king sent an entourage a second time to plead with Balaam to come. And again, Balaam waited for God to speak.
And God came to Balaam at night and said to him, “If the men come to call you, rise and go with them; but only the word which I speak to you—that you shall do.”
Numbers 22:20
Great! It was a go…or was it?
The next morning Balaam got up, saddled his donkey, and went to the men from Moab. Things would not go as planned.
The Lord had not told Balaam to go. He told Balaam IF the men CAME for him, then he could go, but say only what the Lord instructed him. I think this was a case of putting the cart before the horse…or the donkey.
Balaam was eager for the money and honor promised him. He ignored the prerequisite God had laid out for his going and couldn’t get that donkey saddled quick enough.
God did not take that lightly. The Angel of the Lord went ahead of Balaam and stood in the road with his sword drawn to oppose him. But Balaam’s mind was on the profit awaiting him and he didn’t see the Angel. But the donkey did, and she turned away and walked into a field.
Now, anyone who knows me knows how much I love animals. So I get a little upset with Balaam here. He beat his donkey to get her back on the road.
The Angel of the Lord moved further ahead to a narrow passage between the vineyards with a wall on either side. Again Balaam’s donkey saw the angel, but I assume she didn’t want to be beat again. She tried to pass by the angel, but crushed Balaam’s foot against the wall. That poor little donkey couldn’t win, and once more, Balaam beat her.
For a third time the Angel moved ahead to a passage so narrow there was no way for the donkey to move to the left or to the right. Can you imagine her frustration? She’s already tried twice to keep this guy from the sword of the Lord, and all he does is beat her!
As I read this story, in my mind I’m thinking for the donkey, “Okay dude, I tried, you’re on your own. I’m going to lie down right where I am.”
And that’s just what she did. Balaam’s anger was so provoked he beat the donkey with his staff.
Here’s where the story gets fun.
Then the Lord opened the mouth of the donkey, and she said to Balaam, “What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?” Numbers 22:28
In his anger Balaam said to the donkey:
“Because you have abused me. I wish there were a sword in my hand, for now I would kill you!” Numbers 22:29
I have to stop for a moment. As my son and I read this scripture, when we reached this point he said, “Whoa! Balaam just talks back to the donkey? No pause for surprise? No shock that the donkey is talking? Just, hey donkey I could kill you”?
Who wouldn’t be aghast? If I heard a donkey talk, I think I would at least have a moment of bewilderment. But, on with the story.
Balaam’s donkey answered him:
“…Am I not your donkey on which you have ridden, ever since I became yours, to this day? Was I ever disposed to do this to you?” Numbers 22:30
Bless her heart. Balaam had only one word for her:
“No.” Numbers 22:30
At the moment of Balaam’s self-awareness, God opened his eyes. He saw the Angel of the Lord and fell face-down. Then the angel said:
“Why have you struck your donkey these three times? Behold, I have come out to stand against you, because your way is perverse before me. The donkey saw me and turned aside from me these three times. If she had not turned aside from me, surely I would also have killed you by now, and let her live.” Numbers 22:32,33
The donkey gets justice!
Balaam moved forward independent of God’s direction. It took a talking donkey to wake him from his own ambition. He confessed his sin and repented.
Sound familiar? Many times in my life I’ve stepped ahead of God only to step into a mess. Waiting for God is difficult. It’s easy to talk myself into moving ahead of Him. I tell myself that He’s left me behind and get caught up in the pace of my own madness.
A talking donkey. Yes Lord, sometimes I need a talking donkey.
Have you ever gotten ahead of God?
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Cozy Intrigue ~ Janet Campbell 