There are few things in this world to compare with the love of a mother. Or with having a good mama. I know this firsthand.

My mama has been there for me my whole life. I've said it a million times...I would not be who I am today without her. She's been my biggest fan, my sharpest critic, my loudest cheerleader, my strongest supporter...and my hero.

There have been times in my life that I have felt that there was just no one in the world who was there for me...except for my mama. Even during those times when I felt completely alone, I still knew that I had at least one person in my corner.

So this year, on Thanksgiving, I'll have a lot to be thankful for. I have a wonderful family, which I'm learning to be thankful for more and more every day. I have wonderful friends that I can count on. I have a fantabulous best friend in one Miz Autumn Jones. She's such an inspiration. I have a great job that gives me joy and satisfaction, at a time when many people can't say the same. I have a home, a reliable car, a soft fuzzy kitty cat, more shoes than I'd care to admit, and I have, most importantly, my mama.

I hope I have her for many more years to come. Love you Maw!

By the way: That's Mama making her famous dressing on Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. And yes...her tongue was sticking out at me!

Everybody's had Harry Potter fever these days, and since the latest installment, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is in theaters, the fever has gone sky high. I had planned on seeing it this past weekend, but alas, the things of life conspired to keep me Harry-free. For now.

But I did do some reading online, and I found something that completely ticked me off. In an article that focused on the three main stars of the Potter movies, Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint, it was discussed how the trio would make the leap from childhood to adulthood, and from those iconic roles to, well, not those roles.

It was generally agreed upon that Radcliffe and Watson would make the jump and, in fact, had already begun to do so. But then they discussed Grint. The main point? Well, he's going to have a difficult time. Why? He's a ginger. A redhead. And a bit "different" looking. The article said, "…he'll never be a leading man."

Are you kidding me? Seriously? So let me get this straight…because this kid has red hair, he can hang up his acting shoes because he'll never be good at anything but playing Harry Potter's hapless, redheaded sidekick…? Needless to say, I was completely cheesed off by the time I finished the article.

When I was a child, I was made fun of a lot. I mean a LOT. Why? Because of my red hair. Not only did I have red hair, but it was wildly curly, and I had pale skin with freckles. I didn't look like the typical girl next door. I wasn't blonde and cute with dimples. I didn't quite fit in. I was called "redheaded woodpecker" a lot. Funny sounding name…now. But at the time, that name sliced me like a paper cutter…hard and fast. And it left scars. Big ones.

Once, I think I was in the third grade, a boy in my class saw me walking across the playground at recess. Apparently, I had my head held high. Don't remember where I was going or what I was doing, or even why my head was that high…but there I was. That boy walked up to me and told me I was way too ugly to walk around with my nose up in the air like that.

I walked around the rest of the day, staring at my shoes. The sad thing is, all these years later, I still look at the floor as I walk. Maybe I'm still subconsciously in the third grade, a poor little redheaded girl with very hurt feelings.

Whether or not that's true, I still feel ugly most days. I still don't fit the perfect mold of the perfect female…you know, that beautiful woman you want to hate, but because she's so beautiful, you just can't? Oh, there are days when I can muster up cute. Sometimes I can even manage the thin side of pretty. But beautiful? No way. Not me. Ever.

At least, that's how I feel. Because when I look in the mirror, I still see curly red hair, pale skin and freckles. And now, I've added some wrinkles to the mix.

But the thing is, I read today that Jesus sees me like his bride. I was reading a friend's daughter's Facebook post, and this young woman had written that she had attended her cousin's wedding, and she couldn't get over the look on his face as he watched his bride walk down the aisle. And she realized that's how Jesus is looking at us as we come toward him…his bride.

I began to recall some of the weddings I've attended, and I knew the look she was talking about. A look of complete and utter love and awe. Wonder. Satisfaction. Amazement. Joy.

And Jesus looks at ME like THAT??!! Hard to believe. But he does. He sees me, coming down the aisle, looking just the way I do, and he radiates joy…because I belong to him. Wow.

I may be a redheaded woodpecker…but it's okay. I belong to someone who appreciates me and loves me just as I am. Glow-in-the-dark skin and all.

The new Harry Potter movie comes out tomorrow. There are midnight showings all over the place tonight, but I have to get up and go to work tomorrow, so I won't be seeing it today.

I will, however, treat myself to seeing this epic flick this weekend. I'm looking forward to it.

I was thinking earlier, what is it that makes us adults love Harry Potter? The obvious answer is that it's a great escape. When we pick up this book and read about Harry's wizarding world, we escape from the cares and tribulations of our own lives, even if just for a little while.

Or maybe it's the flying and wand waving. Dunno.

What I do know is that for me, Harry Potter's world is different, mysterious and a little on the dark side. In other words, right up my alley. I've always loved that kind of stuff.

When I was a kid, I rushed home from school to watch Barnabas Collins et al in "Dark Shadows." For you poor, uneducated folk, that particular show was basically a soap opera about vampires. I loved it.

I was also completely enamored with "The Munsters" and "The Addams Family." I never gave up hope that one day my parents would announce that we were moving to Mockingbird Lane, next door to the Munster family. Or to whatever street it was the Addams family lived on. I wanted to hang out with them so bad. Still do. I mean, come on. Their house was a museum, when people came to see 'em…and they really were a scree-uhm.

I am still not quite sure why these shows appealed to me so much as a small child. I guess it was because I always felt so different. I was a redhead with wild curly hair amongst the perfectly straight-haired blonde children of the corn. I didn't ever feel that I fit in. Maybe I thought I would if my friends' last names were Addams or Munster.

Whatever the reason, I do know this…they were good folks. They were weird and preferred their swamps and lightning storms over our manicured lawns and sunny skies, but I loved them. And I'm convinced they loved me back.

I suppose the Harry Potter characters and the world they live in are the same for me. They're in a world apart…apart from my own reality and all its strife. All of these characters had problems, but they're not my problems. And everything is resolved neatly in under three hours.

So this weekend, I will escape. I will visit Hogwarts and I will cheer on my favorite wizards and witches as they take on the dude without a nose who really needs a manicure.

And by the way…I've read the final chapter. They win.

We had baptisms at church yesterday. My church has a tradition of presenting those who are dunked with a candle. It's pretty cool.

The candle sits on a table before the baptism, unlit. That represents the person before Christ; full of potential, but without light. Then, just before the dunking, the candle is lit, representing Christ coming into the person's heart and life.

But there is always one more candle. The extra candle represents the fact that God isn't finished yet. There are more "candles" out there, full of potential, waiting to be lit. It's a challenge for us all to remember that we must share the light.

Another thing that happens during a baptism service at E3 is that the person who's to be baptized tells his or her story, and has those who have been "light" to him or her come up and stand with him or her during the baptism. It's a beautiful picture of what investing in someone's life can produce.

My pastor said there are no awards presented in Christendom; we don't get trophies for how many people we lead to Christ or how much we do for the kingdom. At least, not on this earth. But being able to stand with someone you've led to Christ or helped along the way as that person is baptized is its own reward.

During the 11 a.m. service, which I attended, there was only one person who was baptized. The others got dunked during the 9:30 a.m. and 7 p.m. services. I watched the faces of her friends and family members as they watched her being baptized. There were tears and smiles of pure joy. I could relate.

I've had the privilege of seeing lots of teens come to Christ and be baptized over the years. Some of them I've led myself, some were led by others. But we all had the same destination: the foot of the cross. And each time, I wore a smile from ear-to-ear, and shed lots of tears. That young man or young lady went from being one of my kids to my sister or brother in Christ the second they asked Jesus into their hearts. The eternal reward is that I'll see them in heaven. I need no other trophy or recognition.

I also thought back to the people who had a part in my salvation experience. I was 11 years old when I "got saved." I watched my mom experience it, and I saw a change in her countenance. I didn't call it that then; I just remember that she looked different. I couldn't put my finger on why at the time, but I could definitely see it. And I wanted whatever it was she had. So our preacher, Benny Pate, came to see me and explained it all to me, and I asked Jesus into my heart. I got dunked soon after.

I will never forget what happened at the end of the service. Our church had a tradition of asking newly-dunked people to stand down front at the end of the service, so the church could shake their hands or give them a hug. People lined up and did both. But there was one that stood out to me. Mrs. Myrtle Cliatt.

Miss Myrt, as we kids called her, had polio as a child, and so she had a very pronounced limp. But she was a spiritual giant in my eyes. She knew the Bible from cover to cover, and often answered questions I had. Even the ones that might seem silly to most adults...Miss Myrt answered them all, and never judged. She always hugged me too. And her husband, Mr. Ralph, looked like Santa Claus, complete with beard, rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes. He brought me a lollipop every Sunday, even after I was too old for that sort of thing...but that's another story.

On that Sunday, I stood there with wet hair and shook hand after hand. Then it was Miss Myrt's turn. She limped toward me, and she said, "The angels are rejoicing in heaven." Then she hugged me. Simple words. Simple act.

I didn't get it then. But I do now. The angels rejoice every time a sinner comes to repentance. The amazing thing is this: they have no need of repentance, and maybe don't even fully understand it. But they still rejoice every time one of us comes "home." Imagine how they'll act when we finally do get home...to heaven.

I imagine that I'll see loved ones who've gone before me...and there will be great rejoicing by both angels and my loved ones...and I'll see Miss Myrt. She won't be limping, though.

Miss Myrt was one of my candle-lighters. She invested in me and it paid off...for both of us. So thank you, Miss Myrt. The angels rejoiced when you came home for sure.

I recently adopted a cat, who's now almost 5 months old. I have named her Suki, which in Japanese means "beloved." I thought it was kind of a neat name.

I am a single woman, in my forties, and I have a cat. I do not own multiple cats. If that were the case, I wouldn't fight you in identifying me as a cat lady. I might even let you get away with calling me a crazy cat lady. But I don't have multiple cats. So don't even think about going there. Okay. It's out of my system now.

Cats are great snugglers. Everyone knows this. For those of us who are owned by cats, we know that they snuggle with us when they are good and ready to. Not a minute before or after.

As I snuggled with Suki the other night – we were watching a marathon of Addams Family shows which we both enjoyed tremendously – she suddenly sat up on my lap, cocked her head to one side, and just began to stare at me. I found myself wondering what could be going on in that little kitty brain of hers. So I found myself faced with the question: If my cat could talk, what would she say?

I decided instead to look at what she might say, but would really mean. That, of course, is more in line with the feline mandate…

Here's what I've got so far…

• I may appear to be independent, but I ask for your loving care and attention.

What she means: I am the boss. Serve me.

• I rely on you for my well-being more than you know.

What she means: Go out and make money to buy me things.

• I will not be a burden to you or demand more of you than you care to give.

What she means: The more attention you give, the more I will require. You may want to think about hiring me another slave.

• I will be a peaceful island of serenity for you to gaze upon, and a soft, soothing body to caress, and I shall purr with pleasure to rest your weary ears.

What she means: I will tear around the house at 3 a.m. and bite your mother when she comes to visit.

• I pray you will give me a variety of nutritious foods and fresh water.

What she means: I will require Evian, chilled, but not too cold. Any food you offer will be rejected for a much more expensive brand.

• I love to sleep. I pray you allow me a warm, sheltered place where I can rest peacefully and feel secure.

What she means: Don't you dare wake me. I know where you sleep, and I will get revenge. Scrape-the-skin-off-your-ankles-in-the-middle-of-the-night, claw-filled revenge.

• If I am suffering from illness, please care for me gently and see that I am treated by loving and competent hands.

What she means: I reserve the right to mangle the most expensive hands you can hire.

• If you treat me well, I will love you faithfully all my days.

What she means: I might accept you as my slave, if you behave yourself.

Yep. That's about right...