My congressional district needs a boondoggle.
My senate district needs a bloated pork bill to pass.
My house district could use a few inflated infrastructure bills to help us out.
And by us, I mean ME.
My checkbook is woefully thin and I could use a cash infusion to help me be all I can be, all I want to be, all I imagined I could be and a few all I could's that haven't even crossed my mind.
California, the state of excess, is asking us in the hailstone and sarsaparilla belt to give them OUR tax dollars to build a high speed commuter train that "everyone" wants, but which no one will use. It isn't chic to ride the bus or the train!
Paris Hilton and her purse puppy will NOT be the spokes lifeforms for public transportation.
Chances are, Miss Hilton does not wish to sit by F-Dog and the Home Patrol while she attempts to cover her delicate nostrils with a perfume scented hankie.
That would be unacceptable.
And chances are F-Dog and the Home Patrol won't want to ride the public transports, because to do so means they don't have 'the power' to control their mode of transportation and hence the violence and the get-away.
It isn't rad, hip, cool, or dope to wait for the 5:15 cross town bus to escape from bustin' a cap in someones ass. No self respecting banger does that. Ever.
And while I am all 'gangster' and fully knowledgeable about gang activity (NOT!)...I know they won't be riding the Metro flashing gang signs at the opposing turf lords and politely waiting for the ding at the next stop before pulling out a semiautomatic and letting rip their dogs of war. (And yes, I realize the phrase is 'gangsta'...)
High dollar businessmen looking to seal a deal with 'the man' aren't going to ride on the high speed train to nowhere, they could possible drop a call on a multi-million dollar deal and lose big time.
So who will be funding the continued operation of this "necessary" transport.
Grandma.
Yep. Toothless and smelling faintly of wintergreen Ben-Gay, Jergens hand lotion and Dentu-Creme, Grandma will be riding the train all the time.
With her stockings rolled down to just below the bend of her knee, her hairnet firmly in place and secured with a couple of strategic bobby pins, Grandma is the target demographic with the disposable income needed to keep the S-Bahn of California in operation.
Cool people don't ride public transportation.
Cool people drive Ferrari's.
Famous people don't queue up at the bus stop. They are queued up to... by the paparazzi, the gullible and the naive who are willing to believe that somehow, their lack of responsibility deserves rewarding by billions of the tax dollars from people in Nebraska, South Dakota and Alabama.
So when are the good people of the sunkissed state of California going to help MY state and MY needs?
I'd like to have the benefit of their motion picture money flowing towards my state. Can't we prorate it? Afterall, slack-jawed, tobacco chewing, cousin marrying, pregnant at the alter Alabamians watch the movies they make. Doesn't that make us ENTITLED to a bailout?
Come to think of it, our participation in the world market as a whole should entitle us to a great deal.
The more I think about it the more I believe we have supported the economy of the rich for too long.
I declare today the start of a new market.
Today, those with empty checkbooks despite the hardwork of spouse, live-in's and hanger's on from the Dairy Dip are now going to get what they have only seen on the silver screen.
Cooter and Rufus will be issued one of the cars belonging to the rich and famous. Everyone knows when you are rich you have a stable full of cars, horses, llamas, women, whatever.
And if you are rich you will share willingly under President Obama's trickle down economic plan to help the disadvantaged in Alabama.
I'll just sit here with my checkbook open and wait for the numbers to change. While I'm waitin' -anybody want a fudgesicle?
December 29, 2008
December 24, 2008
NORAD Tracks Santa
H. D. Bagley was the weatherman on WHNT channel 19 when I was a kid. He was a Brylcreme man who wore conservative suits with dark ties and announced the weather in no-nonsense terms.
No silly contests to name the mapboard, no artwork from children in the Dogpatch Trailer Park.
Nope, H. D. was all weather.
But something quite amazing happened every Christmas season. H. D. Bagley prepared the Santa Forecast complete with state of the art 1968 graphics and charts to show the progress of Santa Claus.
He even offered a stern, but friendly reminder that it was time for the kids to go to bed so Santa could deliver our presents and continue on his journey to the good girls and boys of the world.
Now, taking up the torch for the internet generation, Google Earth offers 3D Santa tracking. I've had mine on all day.
Santa just finished passing out presents in Rome, Italy, and is now in Vienna, Austria.
Soon, he will be bringing presents to my son in Germany in his zig-zag flight through the skies to bring Christmas cheer to people near and far.
According to the current tracking, Santa has just come to the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. He will be at the apartment my son is sleeping in within mere seconds! Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to good little missionaries far from home!
Santa has delivered gifts to all of Germany now and is flying over Switzerland to bring happiness to people in the neutral nation of private security bank vaults and numbered Swiss accounts. I'm sure Santa has a vault all to himself in Geneva.
Santa, enjoy the flight with the reindeer tonight! We'll leave some goodies for you and the deer and a greeting to Mrs. Claus and the elves at home. We know tonight is just the focal point for the behind the scenes work that goes on year round without much notice by the rest of the world.
Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
And as a strange post script to this all...
here are my answers to a 'getting to know you survey':
1. Who was your FIRST prom date? Are we speaking of the troll who DITCHED ME and then bragged about it?
2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Yep, he's the local appliance repair man.
3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Does the alcohol on a thermometer count?
4. What was your FIRST job? Warehouse worker.
5. What was your FIRST car? Toyota hatchback.
6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Nobody texts me unless it's a mistake.
7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? Rick, his alarm went off and I asked if it was time to get up yet. :snicker:
8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mrs. Sneed Christopher.
9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Dallas
10. Who was your FIRST best friend and are you still friends with them? My sister and yes, we talk every day.
11. What was your FIRST sport played? Baseball
12. Where was your FIRST sleep over? Aunt Jewel's
13. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Rick
14. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? My own :snicker: and my sister Kari's and I was very pregnant for Kari's wedding.
15. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Got the dog off of my feet.
16. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? The Nutcracker Ballet by the Nashville Symphony
17. FIRST tattoo or piercing? Ears when I was eighteen years old.
18. FIRST foreign country you went to? Canada
19. What was your FIRST run in with the law? Now, is that a polite question to ask during he Christmas season????
20. When was your FIRST detention? 5th grade.
21. What was the FIRST state you lived in? Confusion.... seriously, Alabama.
22. Who was the FIRST person to break your heart? Sam
23. Who was your FIRST roommate? My sister
24. Where did you go on your FIRST limo ride? Never been in a limo.
No silly contests to name the mapboard, no artwork from children in the Dogpatch Trailer Park.
Nope, H. D. was all weather.
But something quite amazing happened every Christmas season. H. D. Bagley prepared the Santa Forecast complete with state of the art 1968 graphics and charts to show the progress of Santa Claus.
He even offered a stern, but friendly reminder that it was time for the kids to go to bed so Santa could deliver our presents and continue on his journey to the good girls and boys of the world.
Now, taking up the torch for the internet generation, Google Earth offers 3D Santa tracking. I've had mine on all day.
Santa just finished passing out presents in Rome, Italy, and is now in Vienna, Austria.
Soon, he will be bringing presents to my son in Germany in his zig-zag flight through the skies to bring Christmas cheer to people near and far.
According to the current tracking, Santa has just come to the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. He will be at the apartment my son is sleeping in within mere seconds! Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to good little missionaries far from home!
Santa has delivered gifts to all of Germany now and is flying over Switzerland to bring happiness to people in the neutral nation of private security bank vaults and numbered Swiss accounts. I'm sure Santa has a vault all to himself in Geneva.
Santa, enjoy the flight with the reindeer tonight! We'll leave some goodies for you and the deer and a greeting to Mrs. Claus and the elves at home. We know tonight is just the focal point for the behind the scenes work that goes on year round without much notice by the rest of the world.
Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
And as a strange post script to this all...
here are my answers to a 'getting to know you survey':
1. Who was your FIRST prom date? Are we speaking of the troll who DITCHED ME and then bragged about it?
2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Yep, he's the local appliance repair man.
3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Does the alcohol on a thermometer count?
4. What was your FIRST job? Warehouse worker.
5. What was your FIRST car? Toyota hatchback.
6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Nobody texts me unless it's a mistake.
7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? Rick, his alarm went off and I asked if it was time to get up yet. :snicker:
8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mrs. Sneed Christopher.
9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Dallas
10. Who was your FIRST best friend and are you still friends with them? My sister and yes, we talk every day.
11. What was your FIRST sport played? Baseball
12. Where was your FIRST sleep over? Aunt Jewel's
13. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Rick
14. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? My own :snicker: and my sister Kari's and I was very pregnant for Kari's wedding.
15. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Got the dog off of my feet.
16. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? The Nutcracker Ballet by the Nashville Symphony
17. FIRST tattoo or piercing? Ears when I was eighteen years old.
18. FIRST foreign country you went to? Canada
19. What was your FIRST run in with the law? Now, is that a polite question to ask during he Christmas season????
20. When was your FIRST detention? 5th grade.
21. What was the FIRST state you lived in? Confusion.... seriously, Alabama.
22. Who was the FIRST person to break your heart? Sam
23. Who was your FIRST roommate? My sister
24. Where did you go on your FIRST limo ride? Never been in a limo.
December 20, 2008
The House of Israel
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
I don't find the celebration of Christmas to be separate from the reality of my heritage in the house of Israel.
I also don't find the information about the feasts and celebrations still celebrated by those brothers and sisters of mine in the house of Israel who have not yet embraced the Messiah to be a problem.
They celebrate THE LIGHT.
Although the house of Israel has been scattered through the diaspora which was prophesied, there is within us a common thread.
We seek the LIGHT.
Though that search takes many forms, the end result WILL be the same. To those who are willing to see the truth and follow the way, the LIGHT will be revealed in the form of the Only Begotten Son.
From the earliest memories of my childhood, I remember learning about the feast of lights, the prayers for the coming messiah and the songs and hymns that were sung. I remember thinking that the lighting of the candles over the days of Hannukah was so very much like our twining the electric lights in and on our home as we prepared to remember the birth of THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
Now, we have become over time a people separate as if time makes who we really are less important.
We are all heir to the blessings of the Abrahamic covenant. The blessings of the promise are available to us all.
Yet, too many reject the light simply because the source didn't come in the way we expected it to come.
When the prophecies of the birth of Jesus Christ were made through the record of the prophets in the scriptures, there were those who decided it would be a military coup since the house of Israel had long been treated with disrespect and scorn.
Indeed, at the very time of the birth of the Son of God into the world, the Romans occupied a large segment of the Holy Land as conquerers and as rulers. It was assumed that the Messiah would come and sweep the 'enemy' off the earth.
But that wasn't the plan, because the Romans, and indeed all mankind, are not our enemies in the strictest sense of the word. The plan instead was to unite men in the bonds of love through the birth of an innocent and helpless babe who would grow to be the Son of Man and take upon Himself all of our sins.
It wasn't what was wanted.
I wonder when the House of Israel will WANT to see the Light for what HE truly is.
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
I say it with all of the feeling of my heart because only when we rejoice in the Light that has come can we truly be saved.
I don't find the celebration of Christmas to be separate from the reality of my heritage in the house of Israel.
I also don't find the information about the feasts and celebrations still celebrated by those brothers and sisters of mine in the house of Israel who have not yet embraced the Messiah to be a problem.
They celebrate THE LIGHT.
Although the house of Israel has been scattered through the diaspora which was prophesied, there is within us a common thread.
We seek the LIGHT.
Though that search takes many forms, the end result WILL be the same. To those who are willing to see the truth and follow the way, the LIGHT will be revealed in the form of the Only Begotten Son.
From the earliest memories of my childhood, I remember learning about the feast of lights, the prayers for the coming messiah and the songs and hymns that were sung. I remember thinking that the lighting of the candles over the days of Hannukah was so very much like our twining the electric lights in and on our home as we prepared to remember the birth of THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
Now, we have become over time a people separate as if time makes who we really are less important.
We are all heir to the blessings of the Abrahamic covenant. The blessings of the promise are available to us all.
Yet, too many reject the light simply because the source didn't come in the way we expected it to come.
When the prophecies of the birth of Jesus Christ were made through the record of the prophets in the scriptures, there were those who decided it would be a military coup since the house of Israel had long been treated with disrespect and scorn.
Indeed, at the very time of the birth of the Son of God into the world, the Romans occupied a large segment of the Holy Land as conquerers and as rulers. It was assumed that the Messiah would come and sweep the 'enemy' off the earth.
But that wasn't the plan, because the Romans, and indeed all mankind, are not our enemies in the strictest sense of the word. The plan instead was to unite men in the bonds of love through the birth of an innocent and helpless babe who would grow to be the Son of Man and take upon Himself all of our sins.
It wasn't what was wanted.
I wonder when the House of Israel will WANT to see the Light for what HE truly is.
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
I say it with all of the feeling of my heart because only when we rejoice in the Light that has come can we truly be saved.
December 10, 2008
Free to choose
Liberals.
Can't live with them . . .
People who espouse an attitude of liberal thinking don't want their rights trampled, whatever it is they deem to be 'a right'.
But they are, by and large, the worst OFFENDERS when it comes to trampling the rights of others simply for having and supporting a difference of opinion when it comes to what is 'a right' of expression.
I believe we have opposition in all things as a way to help us choose which side of the fence we will pasture in and which voice we will list to obey - that of the Good Shepherd, or of the rapacious wolves who would disguise their voice in order to draw the lambs close enough for a slaughter.
While I might not like or approve of another's use of their agency, I will defend to the death their right to make an ass of themselves in whatever way they choose. We fought a war in heaven to have the chance to do so.
Satan had other plans. He wanted us to be subject to him through a cattle mentality where we would be herded and driven toward the finish line without making choices - or mistakes.
But through the mistakes we make, we learn. Some are just slower than others to heed the lessons.
Satan wanted to use force and cooersion to keep everyone moving along toward the ultimate reunion with our Father.
I don't think we would have been very happy to have that reunion if everything was done according to someone else's schedule.
Jesus Christ wanted us to have the opportunity to WILLINGLY choose to follow Him. To WILLINGLY desire a joyful reunion with our Father.
He knew some would be lost through their own choices. But that others would learn and make wiser choices and come back into the fold of the Good Shepherd.
Is it fair that some will be cast out?
You betcha.
The feel good mentality of 'everyone is a winner' is a gross lie.
Without true effort on our part, we don't learn. And sometimes learning a lesson IS painful.
Just ask the kid who burned his fingers touching something hot after repeated warnings to "Stay away".
Some lessons are only learned the hard way.
I'd like to say I only had a few of those experiences. But there have been many.
The current economic downturn reminds me of a painful financial lesson of my own sans governmental bailout.
Dumb choices reap painful rewards. Creditors called. Payments were demanded. Choices were changed and bills finally got paid.
No one stepped in to make it all better.
I had to learn to make better choices.
So it is with all sorts of choices and expressions.
No one can decide who gets to say what is on their mind and who gets to be told to 'shut up' because their opinion isn't viable.
You can indeed be free to choose, to speak, and to accept the consequences of the choices and speech that you are responsible for doing.
But therein lies the rub.
Liberals want to be free to do and say and act any way they see fit.
But they don't want an accountability phase.
It's okay to bully, intimidate and extort those who don't buy into THEIR views, but it's considered a hate crime to return the favor to the many viewpoints and people who espouse ideologies that are just 'out there'.
The train has not only jumped the track, but it has jumped the shark.
Lunacy can't ever be a substitute for public policy. When it becomes so prevalent that society is bowing to the will of one thought or mantra, we have most certainly lost our way.
Just rambling through the pain meds this morning...
Can't live with them . . .
People who espouse an attitude of liberal thinking don't want their rights trampled, whatever it is they deem to be 'a right'.
But they are, by and large, the worst OFFENDERS when it comes to trampling the rights of others simply for having and supporting a difference of opinion when it comes to what is 'a right' of expression.
I believe we have opposition in all things as a way to help us choose which side of the fence we will pasture in and which voice we will list to obey - that of the Good Shepherd, or of the rapacious wolves who would disguise their voice in order to draw the lambs close enough for a slaughter.
While I might not like or approve of another's use of their agency, I will defend to the death their right to make an ass of themselves in whatever way they choose. We fought a war in heaven to have the chance to do so.
Satan had other plans. He wanted us to be subject to him through a cattle mentality where we would be herded and driven toward the finish line without making choices - or mistakes.
But through the mistakes we make, we learn. Some are just slower than others to heed the lessons.
Satan wanted to use force and cooersion to keep everyone moving along toward the ultimate reunion with our Father.
I don't think we would have been very happy to have that reunion if everything was done according to someone else's schedule.
Jesus Christ wanted us to have the opportunity to WILLINGLY choose to follow Him. To WILLINGLY desire a joyful reunion with our Father.
He knew some would be lost through their own choices. But that others would learn and make wiser choices and come back into the fold of the Good Shepherd.
Is it fair that some will be cast out?
You betcha.
The feel good mentality of 'everyone is a winner' is a gross lie.
Without true effort on our part, we don't learn. And sometimes learning a lesson IS painful.
Just ask the kid who burned his fingers touching something hot after repeated warnings to "Stay away".
Some lessons are only learned the hard way.
I'd like to say I only had a few of those experiences. But there have been many.
The current economic downturn reminds me of a painful financial lesson of my own sans governmental bailout.
Dumb choices reap painful rewards. Creditors called. Payments were demanded. Choices were changed and bills finally got paid.
No one stepped in to make it all better.
I had to learn to make better choices.
So it is with all sorts of choices and expressions.
No one can decide who gets to say what is on their mind and who gets to be told to 'shut up' because their opinion isn't viable.
You can indeed be free to choose, to speak, and to accept the consequences of the choices and speech that you are responsible for doing.
But therein lies the rub.
Liberals want to be free to do and say and act any way they see fit.
But they don't want an accountability phase.
It's okay to bully, intimidate and extort those who don't buy into THEIR views, but it's considered a hate crime to return the favor to the many viewpoints and people who espouse ideologies that are just 'out there'.
The train has not only jumped the track, but it has jumped the shark.
Lunacy can't ever be a substitute for public policy. When it becomes so prevalent that society is bowing to the will of one thought or mantra, we have most certainly lost our way.
Just rambling through the pain meds this morning...
December 5, 2008
Rejoicing in the Light
I often check the upcoming movie listings online to see if there is anything suitable for family viewing coming to our local theater.
While I am not too interested in a great deal of what is being offered simply because it doesn't interest me, I am concerned about an alarming trend of movies that are created for the sole purpose of removing the light from our lives.
Celebrations of evil fill movie houses to the rapacious appetite of audiences which care nothing for goodness, but rather spend money to be shocked, horrified and offered a full plate of garbage from which they feast as if the offering were worthy.
Satan walks the earth arm in arm with the Holly-weird crowd and helps them along the pathway to destruction most willingly.
That they and others sell themselves so cheaply is so sad.
That they believe the pernicious lies that are presented as 'truth from a certain point of view' is nothing short of pitiful.
I don't want to take my family to see filth.
If we wanted to view garbage, all we need do is bring our chairs out and sit by the large rolling trash bin which is emptied by an automated lift each Wednesday morning.
It too is filled with sickening things, but I can guarantee that as unpleasant the aroma and as unpalatable the contents, the household garbage is better fare than what lights the marquees at many a theater in our communities.
While we can wash off the accidental filth of handling household waste, our minds are not so easily cleansed from disturbing and evil imagery sent out to titillate, entice and influence.
That is why advertising is SO effective.
The whole point is to sell something to a consumer.
Movies have become, not entertainment and diversion, but long play advertisements for the dirt, the smut and the filth that we would not have considered handling just a few short years ago.
Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he. (Old Testament Proverbs 29:18)
What kind of vision is being offered to us? Is it something that will help us keep the law, or does it discourage our view from anything that is good?
Society isn't so sick that it can't be healed, but too many feel there isn't any need to cure the disease that runs rampant.
The Great Healer must indeed be weeping. He holds the cure for the ills of the world, but His children run from it seeking only to do their own will and not that of the Father.
Happiness is not a subject for debate, yet the media has attached that name to things that defile, degrade and destroy. There isn't even a long span of temporary happiness in doing wicked.
Satan knows this, but it isn't in his nature to tell the truth or he would let us see him for who and what he REALLY is.
The funny thing about the irony of circumstance is that Jesus Christ and God the Father have never hidden who they are and what their mission is all about. They want to be there for us, with us and help us come home - if only WE be willing.
Satan wants to drive us like cattle, herd us like dumb animals and compel us to eat from the trough he wishes to feed us from and all the while, he knows - HE KNOWS - that what he offers is poison.
It isn't accidental.
The family is the biggest target simply because the loss of the family is the loss of everything.
When filth can be peddled to the family, they become people who just live together instead of people who love each other and do for one another in a selfless and open manner.
Satan wants us to believe that the Light is out of our reach.
Christ has a different message:
28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
(New Testament Matthew 11:28 - 30)
Jesus Christ invites ALL to come to Him. He didn't say that only a select few could come, but all.
I believe Him when he says I can bring my burdens to Him. I have done so on many ocassions. I will do so on many more.
The Light that fills me with understanding a love removes the darkness that Satan would have me believe is 'reality'.
The Light of Christ helps me see the other people in the world around me and understand that their needs are as important as mine and in some cases, should come first - even ahead of my own agenda.
What a blessing to have that Light and love!
When I look at the movie listings now, I am looking for movies that are about love the way Father in Heaven shows it. Love the way that Jesus Christ shows it. Love of family as ordained by God.
Without those elements, no amount of pre-release hype can make the movie worth any price.
I don't want my soul to bear a "For Sale sign". And certainly not for so cheap a price.
While I am not too interested in a great deal of what is being offered simply because it doesn't interest me, I am concerned about an alarming trend of movies that are created for the sole purpose of removing the light from our lives.
Celebrations of evil fill movie houses to the rapacious appetite of audiences which care nothing for goodness, but rather spend money to be shocked, horrified and offered a full plate of garbage from which they feast as if the offering were worthy.
Satan walks the earth arm in arm with the Holly-weird crowd and helps them along the pathway to destruction most willingly.
That they and others sell themselves so cheaply is so sad.
That they believe the pernicious lies that are presented as 'truth from a certain point of view' is nothing short of pitiful.
I don't want to take my family to see filth.
If we wanted to view garbage, all we need do is bring our chairs out and sit by the large rolling trash bin which is emptied by an automated lift each Wednesday morning.
It too is filled with sickening things, but I can guarantee that as unpleasant the aroma and as unpalatable the contents, the household garbage is better fare than what lights the marquees at many a theater in our communities.
While we can wash off the accidental filth of handling household waste, our minds are not so easily cleansed from disturbing and evil imagery sent out to titillate, entice and influence.
That is why advertising is SO effective.
The whole point is to sell something to a consumer.
Movies have become, not entertainment and diversion, but long play advertisements for the dirt, the smut and the filth that we would not have considered handling just a few short years ago.
Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he. (Old Testament Proverbs 29:18)
What kind of vision is being offered to us? Is it something that will help us keep the law, or does it discourage our view from anything that is good?
Society isn't so sick that it can't be healed, but too many feel there isn't any need to cure the disease that runs rampant.
The Great Healer must indeed be weeping. He holds the cure for the ills of the world, but His children run from it seeking only to do their own will and not that of the Father.
Happiness is not a subject for debate, yet the media has attached that name to things that defile, degrade and destroy. There isn't even a long span of temporary happiness in doing wicked.
Satan knows this, but it isn't in his nature to tell the truth or he would let us see him for who and what he REALLY is.
The funny thing about the irony of circumstance is that Jesus Christ and God the Father have never hidden who they are and what their mission is all about. They want to be there for us, with us and help us come home - if only WE be willing.
Satan wants to drive us like cattle, herd us like dumb animals and compel us to eat from the trough he wishes to feed us from and all the while, he knows - HE KNOWS - that what he offers is poison.
It isn't accidental.
The family is the biggest target simply because the loss of the family is the loss of everything.
When filth can be peddled to the family, they become people who just live together instead of people who love each other and do for one another in a selfless and open manner.
Satan wants us to believe that the Light is out of our reach.
Christ has a different message:
28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
(New Testament Matthew 11:28 - 30)
Jesus Christ invites ALL to come to Him. He didn't say that only a select few could come, but all.
I believe Him when he says I can bring my burdens to Him. I have done so on many ocassions. I will do so on many more.
The Light that fills me with understanding a love removes the darkness that Satan would have me believe is 'reality'.
The Light of Christ helps me see the other people in the world around me and understand that their needs are as important as mine and in some cases, should come first - even ahead of my own agenda.
What a blessing to have that Light and love!
When I look at the movie listings now, I am looking for movies that are about love the way Father in Heaven shows it. Love the way that Jesus Christ shows it. Love of family as ordained by God.
Without those elements, no amount of pre-release hype can make the movie worth any price.
I don't want my soul to bear a "For Sale sign". And certainly not for so cheap a price.
December 4, 2008
Rain, cold and Arthur
Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day...
Rain didn't bother me when I was a kid. At best, it was a momentary joy to stomp in the puddles splashing less than pristine water on my sister's white socks and shiny Mary Jane's while my tongue lolled out of my mouth like a dogs to catch the rain drops in an attempt to gather them all.
At worst the rain meant that a planned outing was cancelled and that the traipsing in and out through the black screen door was halted to keep the muddy footprints from tainting the freshly mopped green and white flecked vinyl floor tiles that had so recently been mopped.
Now, rain comes and brings both an addition to the level of the water table and an addition to the level of pain.
I have to exercise because I made a pledge to myself to do so. I even promised the smiling countenance of Denise Austin, who doesn't even know me, that I would do 'just one more' of whatever unnatural position she is encouraging my beat up body to assume.
And, I have to exercise because, for whatever reason, my best friend Beth tells me that it's a good thing to do. I agree. It IS a good thing to do. On the days I am not dreaming of a big whopping smoothie made of Demerol and morphine…
But, then on the days that everything hurts and I'm spending my time with Arthur Itis and his aches and pains, I'm not too convinced that it is so much 'good for me' as it is a way to help my dog Gyspy inherit my earthly wealth. Won't she be surprised when the read the will only to discover it is actually a forgotten grocery list written on the back of the last direct mail envelope that I received last February!
Today was a rainy, cold day that made me question just why it was that Christmas is celebrated in the winter and why on earth we hadn't made better plans to live near the Equator.
I sympathize wholeheartedly with those who suffer the pains of life. And I empathize with those who require a steady diet of pain pills to get to sleep without moaning.
The sad realization came to me one day when I discovered that I hurt when I do my exercises and I hurt when I DON'T do my exercises. Who knew?
There could be new lyrics in there somewhere, but I'm not sure which country singer would sound better singing about Icy-Hot, Ben-Gay and ThermaCare wraps. I'll have to ponder that.
I think a shower that simply sprays a fine mist of pain relieving emollients would be nice. And a full time masseuse to make everything feel better or at least make the screaming stop...oh wait, that screaming was ME!
In the event that I become one of the Publisher's Clearinghouse winners, I pledge here and now to spend the money on a personal trainer and massage therapist. I'll keep them on retainer.
Right now, it's time to take my chilled body and find a blanket to slip under. At this point, I'd be willing to slip under the influence of a pain pill as well. So far, my will conscious dog Gypsy hasn't brought me anything for the aches and pains. I've been willing to overlook that shortcoming until now.
If she expects me to be lucid enough to create an acutal will naming her as the rightful heir to all of my dog treats, bones and liversnaps, then Gypsy needs to be more cooperative when I am praying that the tub will be filled with Icy-Hot so I can just marinate in it...
It wouldn't hurt her to bring around a few pain pills in a little barrel around her neck, or maybe use those cunning teeth to open up a few hundred tubes of Ben-Gay?
Instead, she is curled up in a tight ball oblivious to my battered body - unless the batter we are referring to has 11 herbs and spices. Then she is all mine with her undivided brown-eyed, dinner seeking attention.
Time to get a blanket. Arthur is making me ache.
Come again some other day...
Rain didn't bother me when I was a kid. At best, it was a momentary joy to stomp in the puddles splashing less than pristine water on my sister's white socks and shiny Mary Jane's while my tongue lolled out of my mouth like a dogs to catch the rain drops in an attempt to gather them all.
At worst the rain meant that a planned outing was cancelled and that the traipsing in and out through the black screen door was halted to keep the muddy footprints from tainting the freshly mopped green and white flecked vinyl floor tiles that had so recently been mopped.
Now, rain comes and brings both an addition to the level of the water table and an addition to the level of pain.
I have to exercise because I made a pledge to myself to do so. I even promised the smiling countenance of Denise Austin, who doesn't even know me, that I would do 'just one more' of whatever unnatural position she is encouraging my beat up body to assume.
And, I have to exercise because, for whatever reason, my best friend Beth tells me that it's a good thing to do. I agree. It IS a good thing to do. On the days I am not dreaming of a big whopping smoothie made of Demerol and morphine…
But, then on the days that everything hurts and I'm spending my time with Arthur Itis and his aches and pains, I'm not too convinced that it is so much 'good for me' as it is a way to help my dog Gyspy inherit my earthly wealth. Won't she be surprised when the read the will only to discover it is actually a forgotten grocery list written on the back of the last direct mail envelope that I received last February!
Today was a rainy, cold day that made me question just why it was that Christmas is celebrated in the winter and why on earth we hadn't made better plans to live near the Equator.
I sympathize wholeheartedly with those who suffer the pains of life. And I empathize with those who require a steady diet of pain pills to get to sleep without moaning.
The sad realization came to me one day when I discovered that I hurt when I do my exercises and I hurt when I DON'T do my exercises. Who knew?
There could be new lyrics in there somewhere, but I'm not sure which country singer would sound better singing about Icy-Hot, Ben-Gay and ThermaCare wraps. I'll have to ponder that.
I think a shower that simply sprays a fine mist of pain relieving emollients would be nice. And a full time masseuse to make everything feel better or at least make the screaming stop...oh wait, that screaming was ME!
In the event that I become one of the Publisher's Clearinghouse winners, I pledge here and now to spend the money on a personal trainer and massage therapist. I'll keep them on retainer.
Right now, it's time to take my chilled body and find a blanket to slip under. At this point, I'd be willing to slip under the influence of a pain pill as well. So far, my will conscious dog Gypsy hasn't brought me anything for the aches and pains. I've been willing to overlook that shortcoming until now.
If she expects me to be lucid enough to create an acutal will naming her as the rightful heir to all of my dog treats, bones and liversnaps, then Gypsy needs to be more cooperative when I am praying that the tub will be filled with Icy-Hot so I can just marinate in it...
It wouldn't hurt her to bring around a few pain pills in a little barrel around her neck, or maybe use those cunning teeth to open up a few hundred tubes of Ben-Gay?
Instead, she is curled up in a tight ball oblivious to my battered body - unless the batter we are referring to has 11 herbs and spices. Then she is all mine with her undivided brown-eyed, dinner seeking attention.
Time to get a blanket. Arthur is making me ache.
November 30, 2008
The Thirtieth Day
When I was in elementary school, they taught us this little ditty to help us remember the various months' and the number of days:
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November:
All the rest have thirty-one,
excepting February - a month alone,
to which we twenty-eight assign,
'til leap year gives it twenty-nine.
Why this particular little verse comes to mind is that we have just completed, as of today, the last of the 30-day months.
I don't know why the various months were assigned the particular number of days though I have heard all manner of theories from the well-educated and the not-so-well-educated as to how the decisions on subdivision occured.
One thing I do know is that reaching the 30th of November always fills me with a sense of completion. Within the month of December is an expectation that the shortened days and the crisply cinnamon scented air will be heralding the time when people are suppose to remember that they have fellow man inhabiting the planet with them.
Sometimes, that understanding is no more than a pious hope.
Witness the violence at several stores as people literally trampled and killed someone just to be 'first' to save a couple of bucks on something they were going to buy. No bargain is worth the life of another human being in the name of the almighty dollar!
What were these people thinking?
Obviously, they were not thinking much of anything because the 'herd mentality' had overshadowed all else.
Lemmings.
It reminds me of a disturbing movie I saw as a gradeschooler of the march of the lemmings toward their own demise. No one stopped to ask 'why are we doing this?' or 'where are we going?'.
Nope.
They just plunged off the cliff to their death like the hundreds before them who didn't manage to have a separate thought about personal responsibility and safety.
People are supposed to be different.
Why do we need to murder someone to save $5 on a sweater that Aunt Marge will NEVER wear?
Why do we need to literally tear the doors off of their hinges in order to pick up savings on a video game that means nothing when the power has been cut off because we didn't manage to pay the light bill?
I can't answer these questions.
But I know the end of November this year seems to herald the beginning of a most uncivil shopping season that will only end badly for all concerned if we don't turn our hearts back to what our days and nights are supposed to be filled with and concerned over.
I cannot imagine the humble followers of Christ trampling one another to get to the manger. Likewise, I can't see the end of the month coming and the wise men killing their camels in a mad jockey race for which one gets to be first to slop down a gift before the baby who means nothing more than a finish line to their ego.
It just doesn't seem right.
So today, I take this last day of the month to think about things ending and thing beginning.
I'd like to put an end to my personal selfishness.
I'd like to end my desires to do evil.
I'd like to be able to stop on the last day of this month and have the feeling that all of my pet vices will not have any control over me anymore.
And then, I'd like to start seeing my fellowman the way Father does.
I don't know them all personally, but He does. And He sees all of His children as the radiant points of light they CAN be and weeps over those who have willingly chosen to dim or extinguish their own heaven sent brilliance for the siren call of the world who will neither honor nor remember them when that poor choice is made.
I'd like to start the first day of December truly being the kind of person that has charity all year long instead of just while the Tabernacle Choir sings of love and brotherhood during the season of lights and presents and the infant Jesus.
Why is it so easy to get to the end of our days remembering the baby but not the Man?
Jesus didn't stay in the cradle.
I don't think we were intended to do that either - physically or emotionally. Most certainly, our spiritual growth should outstrip the confines of the manger and reach out to all men.
just thinking while the orchestra plays this Sabbath morning as I am home with a sick boy.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November:
All the rest have thirty-one,
excepting February - a month alone,
to which we twenty-eight assign,
'til leap year gives it twenty-nine.
Why this particular little verse comes to mind is that we have just completed, as of today, the last of the 30-day months.
I don't know why the various months were assigned the particular number of days though I have heard all manner of theories from the well-educated and the not-so-well-educated as to how the decisions on subdivision occured.
One thing I do know is that reaching the 30th of November always fills me with a sense of completion. Within the month of December is an expectation that the shortened days and the crisply cinnamon scented air will be heralding the time when people are suppose to remember that they have fellow man inhabiting the planet with them.
Sometimes, that understanding is no more than a pious hope.
Witness the violence at several stores as people literally trampled and killed someone just to be 'first' to save a couple of bucks on something they were going to buy. No bargain is worth the life of another human being in the name of the almighty dollar!
What were these people thinking?
Obviously, they were not thinking much of anything because the 'herd mentality' had overshadowed all else.
Lemmings.
It reminds me of a disturbing movie I saw as a gradeschooler of the march of the lemmings toward their own demise. No one stopped to ask 'why are we doing this?' or 'where are we going?'.
Nope.
They just plunged off the cliff to their death like the hundreds before them who didn't manage to have a separate thought about personal responsibility and safety.
People are supposed to be different.
Why do we need to murder someone to save $5 on a sweater that Aunt Marge will NEVER wear?
Why do we need to literally tear the doors off of their hinges in order to pick up savings on a video game that means nothing when the power has been cut off because we didn't manage to pay the light bill?
I can't answer these questions.
But I know the end of November this year seems to herald the beginning of a most uncivil shopping season that will only end badly for all concerned if we don't turn our hearts back to what our days and nights are supposed to be filled with and concerned over.
I cannot imagine the humble followers of Christ trampling one another to get to the manger. Likewise, I can't see the end of the month coming and the wise men killing their camels in a mad jockey race for which one gets to be first to slop down a gift before the baby who means nothing more than a finish line to their ego.
It just doesn't seem right.
So today, I take this last day of the month to think about things ending and thing beginning.
I'd like to put an end to my personal selfishness.
I'd like to end my desires to do evil.
I'd like to be able to stop on the last day of this month and have the feeling that all of my pet vices will not have any control over me anymore.
And then, I'd like to start seeing my fellowman the way Father does.
I don't know them all personally, but He does. And He sees all of His children as the radiant points of light they CAN be and weeps over those who have willingly chosen to dim or extinguish their own heaven sent brilliance for the siren call of the world who will neither honor nor remember them when that poor choice is made.
I'd like to start the first day of December truly being the kind of person that has charity all year long instead of just while the Tabernacle Choir sings of love and brotherhood during the season of lights and presents and the infant Jesus.
Why is it so easy to get to the end of our days remembering the baby but not the Man?
Jesus didn't stay in the cradle.
I don't think we were intended to do that either - physically or emotionally. Most certainly, our spiritual growth should outstrip the confines of the manger and reach out to all men.
just thinking while the orchestra plays this Sabbath morning as I am home with a sick boy.
November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving – a wonderful time of family, food and fun. And a cheese ball.
It didn’t start out to be more than party food. But it morphed into something much larger than just a mere cheese ball. And to think some people don’t believe in evolution!
It was a nut studded port wine creation, which began the day as part of a cheese platter. It was well received, but at the end of the long day of feasting and merry making, it stood as a lonely sentinel of food not consumed.
After all, you can’t eat everything and still stay in training for 5k’s.
But then, what to do with the cheese ball?
We talked about slipping it into an envelope to send to the poor. But we can’t send it to the poor because the poor don’t want it. My one brother in law pointed out that the poor might squeeze the cheese in order to get at the port wine it contained.
And although it would be funny to see just how far it would travel from the swift stroke of a 3 wood, it might make for some off comments when the neighbors found the remnants perched in their tree or along their fence line. I swear we were aiming for the green but you see I have this bad habit of hooking . . .
Then again, the thoughts of tossing it carefully into mailboxes seemed amusing until we remembered that another brother in law is a police officer and would most assuredly shoot us for vandalizing the neighborhood with flying cheese. That, and the risk of offering a controlled substance to minors who might come in contact with the port wine flavored cheese might make for some interesting headlines in the local paper.
My niece and I discussed the possibility of sliding it under the passenger’s seat of my sister’s car with an open can of sardines, but we didn’t have the sardines. It sort of cast a pall on the plan.
Instead, the hapless cheese ball was unceremoniously dumped into an empty box from which Saran wrap had once dispensed. After more hilarity, the plot finally coalesced.
We opened the carry out cooler my sister had brought and stuffed the box containing the cheese ball into her cooler. To quote her words exactly when she discovered it: “I swear! I can’t leave you two alone for two minutes!!”
But she was laughing as hard as we were when we slipped it in her cooler. So now, I am waiting for the comeuppance. I know it is coming. It’s only a matter of time and the purchase of some disgusting food item away.
Isn’t fruitcake season about to come up…?
As a parting shot, my sister called and said, "Tell Devil and Devilish (meaning me and my other sister) I'm thinking of wrapping up the cheeseball and bringing it at Christmas..."
I think this may be worse than the fruitcake.
November 25, 2008
To Be or Not To Be
Blogging is such a strange habit.
Like an itch that crops up needing a good scratch from time to time, I find my writing to be a sporadic issue that tends to come and go dependent upon the other pressing matters in my life or sometimes BECAUSE of the pressing matters of my life.
I have noticed of late a tendency for lots of bloggers to vanish or to go private with their various offerings.
Unsure as to what to make of this, I continue along with this blog knowing that even if someone stumbles upon it, they will likely not stay. What few people who have read it are candid enough to let me know how they feel with sometimes unpleasant results.
Since this is, by extension, part of my journal, I don't necessarily feel too awful when someone doesn't like what they read. Some of my life is chaotic and not to pleasant. When those times crop up, I guess I haven't developed the spiritual maturity to take it all in stride and continue forward without being harsh or abrasive in my choice of words and/or actions.
What I think and feel are minor compared to the issues of the world. I get that.
But when emotions are intense, this little spot gives me a chance to vent unfiltered thoughts in a way that can help me sort them out. Perhaps I need to be better about posting the process so that anyone who might read can see that I have made some progress or learned something or even managed to just survive another day.
When Shakespeare penned his now immortal phrase of Hamlet's pondering "to be or not to be", I wonder if he thought it would change the world.
Somehow, I doubt that. I believe he was simply trying to make a living in the hopes that he could take care of his needs in this world. But the question asked is a good one.
Are we to be or not to be based on the comfort level of another person? Is the sum of who we are to become linked to the emotional stability and maturity of others? And if we are to be only as a shadowy reflection of someone else's understanding, is that 'being' anything at all?
I'm not sure of any of these things.
We can't dwell in a half life of partial truth according to the narrow view of another. But likewise, we don't live in a vacuum and our circumstances compel us to brush up against others from time to time. Where is that magical defining line of being without trampling on the being of another?
Perhaps the question isn't whether we are to be or not to be. Perhaps the meaning is deeper.
To be as another desires us to be or not to be at all.
Sometimes, we have to conform in order to be. Like in a marching band, you can't arbitrarily decide to take a solo passage when the rest of the band is playing something else, you can't "BE" just because that is how you are feeling.
But other times, we are free to loose the muse within and express who we are with the understanding that we have a contract with the accountability phase of life. We can choose our actions, our expressions and our level of involvement, but we aren't able to choose the outcome nor, in some cases, the aftermath.
So how do we determine which level of 'being' is the best for our lives and circumstances?
Asking that questions should let everyone know that I am still a work in progress.
Just the random thoughts of a pajama clad woman...
Like an itch that crops up needing a good scratch from time to time, I find my writing to be a sporadic issue that tends to come and go dependent upon the other pressing matters in my life or sometimes BECAUSE of the pressing matters of my life.
I have noticed of late a tendency for lots of bloggers to vanish or to go private with their various offerings.
Unsure as to what to make of this, I continue along with this blog knowing that even if someone stumbles upon it, they will likely not stay. What few people who have read it are candid enough to let me know how they feel with sometimes unpleasant results.
Since this is, by extension, part of my journal, I don't necessarily feel too awful when someone doesn't like what they read. Some of my life is chaotic and not to pleasant. When those times crop up, I guess I haven't developed the spiritual maturity to take it all in stride and continue forward without being harsh or abrasive in my choice of words and/or actions.
What I think and feel are minor compared to the issues of the world. I get that.
But when emotions are intense, this little spot gives me a chance to vent unfiltered thoughts in a way that can help me sort them out. Perhaps I need to be better about posting the process so that anyone who might read can see that I have made some progress or learned something or even managed to just survive another day.
When Shakespeare penned his now immortal phrase of Hamlet's pondering "to be or not to be", I wonder if he thought it would change the world.
Somehow, I doubt that. I believe he was simply trying to make a living in the hopes that he could take care of his needs in this world. But the question asked is a good one.
Are we to be or not to be based on the comfort level of another person? Is the sum of who we are to become linked to the emotional stability and maturity of others? And if we are to be only as a shadowy reflection of someone else's understanding, is that 'being' anything at all?
I'm not sure of any of these things.
We can't dwell in a half life of partial truth according to the narrow view of another. But likewise, we don't live in a vacuum and our circumstances compel us to brush up against others from time to time. Where is that magical defining line of being without trampling on the being of another?
Perhaps the question isn't whether we are to be or not to be. Perhaps the meaning is deeper.
To be as another desires us to be or not to be at all.
Sometimes, we have to conform in order to be. Like in a marching band, you can't arbitrarily decide to take a solo passage when the rest of the band is playing something else, you can't "BE" just because that is how you are feeling.
But other times, we are free to loose the muse within and express who we are with the understanding that we have a contract with the accountability phase of life. We can choose our actions, our expressions and our level of involvement, but we aren't able to choose the outcome nor, in some cases, the aftermath.
So how do we determine which level of 'being' is the best for our lives and circumstances?
Asking that questions should let everyone know that I am still a work in progress.
Just the random thoughts of a pajama clad woman...
November 22, 2008
Have I Done Any Good
My skin isn't thick enough and my faith is weak.
How on earth do the strong people get that way?
Right now, my faith level is about a quart and a half low and I am finding it hard to believe that anything I would ever come up with saying would ever be of use to someone who is seeking the truth.
Are imperfect missionaries useful?
I have shared the little candlelight of faith and understanding I have with others when I felt so prompted to. But I haven't seen it make a difference to them. And sometimes that makes it hard for me to understand why.
Why would I feel like I should share what I hold so dear only to see them politely put it aside and go on without even taking the little light I am offering.
Perhaps the light I hold is so fragile that it can't withstand the harsh winds of the world and simply puffs out into a thin tendril of smoky memory that is soon vanquished and gone.
I don't know.
But I know what I believe.
Sadly, me believing something is true isn't sufficient to help anyone else to believe it.
And forcing the human mind isn't too good. The results of force are seldom what we had hoped for anyway. Like the old adage says "A man who's forced against his will is of the same opinion still."
I don't want someone to believe what I believe as the price of 'getting along' with me. I hope I am open enough that we can be different and respectful and still be friends.
But it hurts to feel the light and understanding that has been shared with me sit dormant and it never make any headway into the lives of those who mean so much to me in the world as a whole.
While I understand I am an imperfect vessel, surely some part of me is good enough to be of service?
I don't mean to be whiney and pitiful.
But some days, having the faith to plant the seeds is hard to come by. And having the faith, hope and resiliance to believe that the flowers of faith can grow and flourish is dim at best.
I think of the words of a hymn I know: have I done any good in the world today? Have I helped anyone in need? Have I cheered up the sad? Or made someone feel glad? If not, I have failed indeed...
just something rambling around in the windmills of my mind...
How on earth do the strong people get that way?
Right now, my faith level is about a quart and a half low and I am finding it hard to believe that anything I would ever come up with saying would ever be of use to someone who is seeking the truth.
Are imperfect missionaries useful?
I have shared the little candlelight of faith and understanding I have with others when I felt so prompted to. But I haven't seen it make a difference to them. And sometimes that makes it hard for me to understand why.
Why would I feel like I should share what I hold so dear only to see them politely put it aside and go on without even taking the little light I am offering.
Perhaps the light I hold is so fragile that it can't withstand the harsh winds of the world and simply puffs out into a thin tendril of smoky memory that is soon vanquished and gone.
I don't know.
But I know what I believe.
Sadly, me believing something is true isn't sufficient to help anyone else to believe it.
And forcing the human mind isn't too good. The results of force are seldom what we had hoped for anyway. Like the old adage says "A man who's forced against his will is of the same opinion still."
I don't want someone to believe what I believe as the price of 'getting along' with me. I hope I am open enough that we can be different and respectful and still be friends.
But it hurts to feel the light and understanding that has been shared with me sit dormant and it never make any headway into the lives of those who mean so much to me in the world as a whole.
While I understand I am an imperfect vessel, surely some part of me is good enough to be of service?
I don't mean to be whiney and pitiful.
But some days, having the faith to plant the seeds is hard to come by. And having the faith, hope and resiliance to believe that the flowers of faith can grow and flourish is dim at best.
I think of the words of a hymn I know: have I done any good in the world today? Have I helped anyone in need? Have I cheered up the sad? Or made someone feel glad? If not, I have failed indeed...
just something rambling around in the windmills of my mind...
November 21, 2008
Budgetary issues
Realization that our world is changing is a constant presence in my life.
What has been a long, hard-fought and frequently bitter political season has been punctuated by the election results naming our next commander in chief.
I didn't pick him.
But, as an American, I am honor bound to support him when he is right, and pray for him when he is wrong - to paraphrase and adulterate a quote by Lincoln.
I worry that his approach to cabinet level posts and the vetting process used to pick people far left of center is nothing more than the business as usual partisan approach that keeps our nation mired in the stupid belief that if we throw enough money at it - the problem (Whatever that might be) will simply disappear. This isn't change we can believe in. This is party politics as usual with people who can play the game.
Taxation will drive businesses away from the American marketplace and businesses can spend a fraction of their delightful bottom line on salaries for people in third and second world markets who are just thankful to be working without the benefit of a union gorilla strong arming the managment into paying salaries that are unreasonable.
Then there is the issue of corporate talking heads preparing a golden road for themselves and a likewise golden hued parachute to fly away beneath when the company that made everything so pleasant for them goes belly up due to board and leadership stupidity.
The people I worry about are the ones who made the corporations profitable and hoped to enjoy a life of leisure in their golden years, but who now must rinse and reuse their tinfoil to make ends meet.
Why does ANY corporate talking head who polishes a chair with his ass need a paycheck that his higher than twice the line workers salary?
Why do they need a separate cafeteria or dining room and for heaven's sake, why do they need a private jet????
Don't these 'brilliant strategists' realize they could go onto Expedia.com and get airline tickets the way the 'little people' do?
Talk about stupid.
It's like the scandal a few years ago in the Department of Defense where some idiot contractors jacked up the price on getting materials and goods to our men and women who serve our nations interests.
How in the devil can they possibly justify charging them hundreds of dollars for a hammer, when any fool in the world can get one for lest than $30?
Part of it is because these talking heads haven't ever had to live and die by the balance in the checkbook and make sacrifices because you can't afford to 'do it all'.
Part of it is simply arrogance, believing they somehow DESERVE the huge bucks they are knocking down.
I'd bet my eye teeth the average military man or woman would love to have a fraction of the money that is thrown out into the void by our leaders who don't demand accountability or seem to understand what that word is in any sense.
One wonders if those delightful educations they brag about managed to include even one class on consumer math?
You can't spend what you don't have ... eventually the piper must be paid and in my world, jail would be the alternative for those who take goods and services without the money to pay for either one.
Just rambling this morning.
Either that or the cold medicine is talking.
You decide which one.
What has been a long, hard-fought and frequently bitter political season has been punctuated by the election results naming our next commander in chief.
I didn't pick him.
But, as an American, I am honor bound to support him when he is right, and pray for him when he is wrong - to paraphrase and adulterate a quote by Lincoln.
I worry that his approach to cabinet level posts and the vetting process used to pick people far left of center is nothing more than the business as usual partisan approach that keeps our nation mired in the stupid belief that if we throw enough money at it - the problem (Whatever that might be) will simply disappear. This isn't change we can believe in. This is party politics as usual with people who can play the game.
Taxation will drive businesses away from the American marketplace and businesses can spend a fraction of their delightful bottom line on salaries for people in third and second world markets who are just thankful to be working without the benefit of a union gorilla strong arming the managment into paying salaries that are unreasonable.
Then there is the issue of corporate talking heads preparing a golden road for themselves and a likewise golden hued parachute to fly away beneath when the company that made everything so pleasant for them goes belly up due to board and leadership stupidity.
The people I worry about are the ones who made the corporations profitable and hoped to enjoy a life of leisure in their golden years, but who now must rinse and reuse their tinfoil to make ends meet.
Why does ANY corporate talking head who polishes a chair with his ass need a paycheck that his higher than twice the line workers salary?
Why do they need a separate cafeteria or dining room and for heaven's sake, why do they need a private jet????
Don't these 'brilliant strategists' realize they could go onto Expedia.com and get airline tickets the way the 'little people' do?
Talk about stupid.
It's like the scandal a few years ago in the Department of Defense where some idiot contractors jacked up the price on getting materials and goods to our men and women who serve our nations interests.
How in the devil can they possibly justify charging them hundreds of dollars for a hammer, when any fool in the world can get one for lest than $30?
Part of it is because these talking heads haven't ever had to live and die by the balance in the checkbook and make sacrifices because you can't afford to 'do it all'.
Part of it is simply arrogance, believing they somehow DESERVE the huge bucks they are knocking down.
I'd bet my eye teeth the average military man or woman would love to have a fraction of the money that is thrown out into the void by our leaders who don't demand accountability or seem to understand what that word is in any sense.
One wonders if those delightful educations they brag about managed to include even one class on consumer math?
You can't spend what you don't have ... eventually the piper must be paid and in my world, jail would be the alternative for those who take goods and services without the money to pay for either one.
Just rambling this morning.
Either that or the cold medicine is talking.
You decide which one.
November 17, 2008
Bringing Up The Rear
No. This has nothing to do with a new exercise.
Actually, this is more about the last wagon in the caravan, the last runner in the coliseum, the last pony in the derby.
Victorious people seldom consider those who make them look so damn good.
How exciting would it be to go to Talledega and see ONE car for 500 laps?
Yippee.
A possible (yawn) hoorah.
Or how about the Olympic games with only one 'competitor' in an event. What's the incentive to beat your time if you are the only one who is in the event? Most of us lack the motivational skill to be a lifetime subscription to 'personal cheerleader daily'.
Even the most wonderful cheerleading people I know have bad days and suffer some depressing moments.
So let's take a look at those who bring up the rear.
While not celebrated in story or legend, those who are last aren't quitters. They just didn't finish when the medals were handed out. Instead they just finished.
They are the farmers who kept plowing with hope in their heart and a firm belief that one day it would all work out. Even if it never did.
They are the people who work every single day in a job that doesn't ever get noticed - until it isn't done - and then they are railed against instead of thanked for the brilliant days when they DID perform up to par and no one noticed at all.
They are the kids who never see the honor roll, but who become honorable citizens who defend, protect and preserve all that we hold dear in our nation.
They are the kids who warm the bench and keep cheering enthusiastically even when they only get to play when the team is either so far ahead or so far behind that anything they do will never make a difference.
They are the women who cook so many meals that they have forgotten for a family who is on the run to yet another activity and are thanked in passing like a jet practicing take-offs and landings at Miramar.
They are the parents who keep supporting wayward children without enabling them and have calloused knees from the prayers that someday, somehow this child or adult would find the courage to buy a clue.
They are the checker at the local discount store who has been on their feet all day at minimum wage only to see their check disappear each week just to make and pay for a bare living.
The folks in the back of the pack are eating the dust of the success stories. They are the ones who, despite being nourished on a lot of unfulfilled dreams, keep plugging along firmly believing that tomorrow just 'might be the day'.
They get up each day and start fresh just waiting for their ship to come in.
The people in the rear may arrive last, but they arrive nonetheless.
And what do they get for their calloused, worn and abused bodies, minds and spirits?
No earthly token will ever suffice for the folks who bring up the rear. Instead, I envision a scenario where all who have been out front basking in the warm glow of trophies and accolades are all standing in line with the folks who are, even then, bringing up the rear.
St. Pete in his gentle voice begins to explain the procedure for entering the celestial realms.
Those who have enjoyed earthly fame and fortune, who's personal collection of hardware and awards could fill a dump truck and who have been blessed to be front runners through life will be asked to take one step to their right out of the line.
When this is accomplished, they will smile benignly upon those who were NOT in front of the race to eternity and wait to receive their crown of glory. But it will not come.
Instead, they will be given the task of robing and crowning those faithful few who just kept putting one foot in front of the other because it was the right thing to do - even when no one noticed.
The front runners will hand out the hymnbooks and the sandals, then stand aside as those who served as the wind beneath the wings of the winners in mortal life are now asked to serve the people who made it possible for the success of another - and always with no thought of personal gain.
I have no proof that will happen.
I have no evidence to support it.
But it would be just recompense for all of those in the Family of God who made sure that someone else was able to be the lead dog in the pack, even if it meant they, personally, became invisible.
Time to give up a cheer
to those who bring up the rear
Time to give up a shout
for those who worked it all out!
Put your hands in the air
for their unselfish care
clap your hands, stomp your feet
for those who made life sweet!
I don't know if there are pompoms in heaven.
But I think there should be.
Even those who bring up the rear deserve a finish line and the cheers of the crowd.
It's only fair.
Actually, this is more about the last wagon in the caravan, the last runner in the coliseum, the last pony in the derby.
Victorious people seldom consider those who make them look so damn good.
How exciting would it be to go to Talledega and see ONE car for 500 laps?
Yippee.
A possible (yawn) hoorah.
Or how about the Olympic games with only one 'competitor' in an event. What's the incentive to beat your time if you are the only one who is in the event? Most of us lack the motivational skill to be a lifetime subscription to 'personal cheerleader daily'.
Even the most wonderful cheerleading people I know have bad days and suffer some depressing moments.
So let's take a look at those who bring up the rear.
While not celebrated in story or legend, those who are last aren't quitters. They just didn't finish when the medals were handed out. Instead they just finished.
They are the farmers who kept plowing with hope in their heart and a firm belief that one day it would all work out. Even if it never did.
They are the people who work every single day in a job that doesn't ever get noticed - until it isn't done - and then they are railed against instead of thanked for the brilliant days when they DID perform up to par and no one noticed at all.
They are the kids who never see the honor roll, but who become honorable citizens who defend, protect and preserve all that we hold dear in our nation.
They are the kids who warm the bench and keep cheering enthusiastically even when they only get to play when the team is either so far ahead or so far behind that anything they do will never make a difference.
They are the women who cook so many meals that they have forgotten for a family who is on the run to yet another activity and are thanked in passing like a jet practicing take-offs and landings at Miramar.
They are the parents who keep supporting wayward children without enabling them and have calloused knees from the prayers that someday, somehow this child or adult would find the courage to buy a clue.
They are the checker at the local discount store who has been on their feet all day at minimum wage only to see their check disappear each week just to make and pay for a bare living.
The folks in the back of the pack are eating the dust of the success stories. They are the ones who, despite being nourished on a lot of unfulfilled dreams, keep plugging along firmly believing that tomorrow just 'might be the day'.
They get up each day and start fresh just waiting for their ship to come in.
The people in the rear may arrive last, but they arrive nonetheless.
And what do they get for their calloused, worn and abused bodies, minds and spirits?
No earthly token will ever suffice for the folks who bring up the rear. Instead, I envision a scenario where all who have been out front basking in the warm glow of trophies and accolades are all standing in line with the folks who are, even then, bringing up the rear.
St. Pete in his gentle voice begins to explain the procedure for entering the celestial realms.
Those who have enjoyed earthly fame and fortune, who's personal collection of hardware and awards could fill a dump truck and who have been blessed to be front runners through life will be asked to take one step to their right out of the line.
When this is accomplished, they will smile benignly upon those who were NOT in front of the race to eternity and wait to receive their crown of glory. But it will not come.
Instead, they will be given the task of robing and crowning those faithful few who just kept putting one foot in front of the other because it was the right thing to do - even when no one noticed.
The front runners will hand out the hymnbooks and the sandals, then stand aside as those who served as the wind beneath the wings of the winners in mortal life are now asked to serve the people who made it possible for the success of another - and always with no thought of personal gain.
I have no proof that will happen.
I have no evidence to support it.
But it would be just recompense for all of those in the Family of God who made sure that someone else was able to be the lead dog in the pack, even if it meant they, personally, became invisible.
Time to give up a cheer
to those who bring up the rear
Time to give up a shout
for those who worked it all out!
Put your hands in the air
for their unselfish care
clap your hands, stomp your feet
for those who made life sweet!
I don't know if there are pompoms in heaven.
But I think there should be.
Even those who bring up the rear deserve a finish line and the cheers of the crowd.
It's only fair.
November 13, 2008
What the heck?!?!
Christmas ...
celebrations with family and friends...
silver and gold, red and green...
pink and purple.
DO WHAT?!?!?!
Yep. Pink and purple.
Despite the good sense of EVERYONE who has learned their colors, shapes and numbers, and who no longer requires the use of a sippy cup - oh no, to the contrary - we are to decorate the tree in the festive traditional holiday colors of Pepto-Bismol pink and Royal Crown whiskey purple.
Uh, not so much.
Despite the information being given to us all at allegedly the same time, when I was finally able to reach the people in charge, we were left with the loathsome choices of orange and brown (who in the Deep South decorates a tree to look like a football team from Yankee country?) or the delightfully aforementioned "pepto pink" and "slipped on the porcelain purple".
We are stuck with the pink and purple.
While Barbie accessories may indeed be festooned in enough pink to make the folks at the Pepto company wonder where all of the red dye went, there are not shelves and shelves of holiday ornamentation colored to resemble the remedy for barf.
Who'da thunk?
And purple... well, it also required more than one scouting trip to discover a shade of purple that didn't require a bag of frozen peas to take down the swelling.
But today, through skillful manipulations of how in the heck all of this shall come together in a tree that will NOT inspire the gag reflex, success occured. And all for around $100 bucks.
Now, it all boils down to December 9th and the unenviable task of coordinating the aforementioned decorations on the tree to resemble not so much a night of excess at Studio 54 under the disco lights, but a tree to commemorate our feelings on the Savior's birth.
I don't even believe the Wise Men showed up in these colors unless we have been woefully uninformed about a local burlesque review.
But undaunted, the calendar is marked and hopes remain high that a monsoon will sweep away all of the other trees leaving the monument to "Las Vegas chic" in place as the only tree in the building.
Either that or we will be require to make a substantial investment in dark glasses and
"spontaneous" power outages when people approach the said tree.
You'll know the tree when you see it, if you get to see it. It will be the one that should be next to the rundown, velveeta box on wheels down in the Dogpatch trailer court.
Merry Christmas, y'all!
celebrations with family and friends...
silver and gold, red and green...
pink and purple.
DO WHAT?!?!?!
Yep. Pink and purple.
Despite the good sense of EVERYONE who has learned their colors, shapes and numbers, and who no longer requires the use of a sippy cup - oh no, to the contrary - we are to decorate the tree in the festive traditional holiday colors of Pepto-Bismol pink and Royal Crown whiskey purple.
Uh, not so much.
Despite the information being given to us all at allegedly the same time, when I was finally able to reach the people in charge, we were left with the loathsome choices of orange and brown (who in the Deep South decorates a tree to look like a football team from Yankee country?) or the delightfully aforementioned "pepto pink" and "slipped on the porcelain purple".
We are stuck with the pink and purple.
While Barbie accessories may indeed be festooned in enough pink to make the folks at the Pepto company wonder where all of the red dye went, there are not shelves and shelves of holiday ornamentation colored to resemble the remedy for barf.
Who'da thunk?
And purple... well, it also required more than one scouting trip to discover a shade of purple that didn't require a bag of frozen peas to take down the swelling.
But today, through skillful manipulations of how in the heck all of this shall come together in a tree that will NOT inspire the gag reflex, success occured. And all for around $100 bucks.
Now, it all boils down to December 9th and the unenviable task of coordinating the aforementioned decorations on the tree to resemble not so much a night of excess at Studio 54 under the disco lights, but a tree to commemorate our feelings on the Savior's birth.
I don't even believe the Wise Men showed up in these colors unless we have been woefully uninformed about a local burlesque review.
But undaunted, the calendar is marked and hopes remain high that a monsoon will sweep away all of the other trees leaving the monument to "Las Vegas chic" in place as the only tree in the building.
Either that or we will be require to make a substantial investment in dark glasses and
"spontaneous" power outages when people approach the said tree.
You'll know the tree when you see it, if you get to see it. It will be the one that should be next to the rundown, velveeta box on wheels down in the Dogpatch trailer court.
Merry Christmas, y'all!
November 12, 2008
Jumping the Shark
By now, this term has become part of our collective lexicon. It harks back to an episode near the end of the series run for "Happy Days".
Most everyone knows that to say something has 'jumped the shark' means that you have lost complete focus and are making a desperate bid to keep things going when everyone around you knows that a graceful exit would have made more sense.
I fear our national morality has jumped the shark and gone back for seconds.
I don't want to preach. I leave that to people more erudite and credible.
But I am concerned that the shark jumping has reached epidemic proportions.
We destroy ourselves by degrees, administering to ourselves and our nation the slow poison of decay and destruction from within.
I read a really good item from some old newspaper clippings that were in my Aunt's household items as we helped to sort and organize her no longer needed goods.
It was a bold reminder that appetites and passions can lead to the undoing of us all if not checked by boundaries and held in reserve for the right purposes.
Here is the article:
Twelve Rules For Raising Delinquent Children
1. Begin in infancy to give the child everything he wants. In this way, he will grow to believe the world owes him a living.
2. When he picks up bad words, laugh at him. This will make him think he's cute. It will also encourage him to pick up 'cuter' phrases that will blow off the top of your head later.
3. Never give him any spiritual training. Wait till he's 21 and then let him 'decide for himself'.
4. Avoid the use of the word 'wrong'. It may develop a guilt complex. This will condition him to believe, later, when he is arrested for stealing a car, that society is against him and he is being persecuted.
5. Pick up everything he leaves lying around - - books, shoes and clothing. Do everything for him so that he will be experienced in throwing all responsibility onto others.
6. Let him read any printed matter he can get his hands on. Be careful that the silverware and drinking glasses are sterilized, but let his mind feast on garbage.
7. Quarrel frequently in front of your children. In this way, he will not be too shocked when his home is broken up later.
8. Give a child all the spending money he wants. Never let him earn his own. Why should he have things as tough as you had them?
9. Satisfy his every carving for food, drink and comfort. See that every sensual desire is gratified. Denial may lead to harmful frustration.
10. Take his part against neighbors, teachers and policeman. They are all prejudiced against your child.
11. When he gets into real trouble, apologize for yourself by saying 'I never could do anything with him'.
12. Prepare yourself for a life of grief. You will be apt to have it.
[FROM THE HOUSTON, TEXAS POLICE DEPARTMENT - 1959]
It's funny, the time has gone by and we are almost 50 years from the time this was written.
Critics would claim that every generation of youth was decried by the previous one as being off the mark, but the truth is, with every passing generation we have accepted things as being okay which really aren't.
In the name of 'getting along' and 'free choice', we have legislated all kinds of sin.
Shame has disappeared as a motivation for change. We don't want to hurt someone's feelings by making them feel bad for their choices. The end result is that without shame, they choose even worse things at every turn of the screw.
Eventually, society 'jumps the shark'. We are derailed from our ambitions by our own lack of personal self-control. We are removed from opportunity, not because there is something preventing us from succeeding, but because we have chosen willingly to thwart ourselves.
Our society now rewards laziness as if it is some delightful new virtue. We pay corrupt businessmen for making lies seem plausible. We celebrate sin as if it is not a big deal and that those who don't see it the way that is the politically correct form for the day are somehow bigots.
It's time for a rewind, rewrite and do over.
We can't erase the past, but we can change gears and avoid the continued opportunity to pass over the shark in hopes that today won't be the day he jumps up and bites us in the butt with the natural consequences of stupid choices.
Just thinking while doing a bit of surfing this morning...
Most everyone knows that to say something has 'jumped the shark' means that you have lost complete focus and are making a desperate bid to keep things going when everyone around you knows that a graceful exit would have made more sense.
I fear our national morality has jumped the shark and gone back for seconds.
I don't want to preach. I leave that to people more erudite and credible.
But I am concerned that the shark jumping has reached epidemic proportions.
We destroy ourselves by degrees, administering to ourselves and our nation the slow poison of decay and destruction from within.
I read a really good item from some old newspaper clippings that were in my Aunt's household items as we helped to sort and organize her no longer needed goods.
It was a bold reminder that appetites and passions can lead to the undoing of us all if not checked by boundaries and held in reserve for the right purposes.
Here is the article:
Twelve Rules For Raising Delinquent Children
1. Begin in infancy to give the child everything he wants. In this way, he will grow to believe the world owes him a living.
2. When he picks up bad words, laugh at him. This will make him think he's cute. It will also encourage him to pick up 'cuter' phrases that will blow off the top of your head later.
3. Never give him any spiritual training. Wait till he's 21 and then let him 'decide for himself'.
4. Avoid the use of the word 'wrong'. It may develop a guilt complex. This will condition him to believe, later, when he is arrested for stealing a car, that society is against him and he is being persecuted.
5. Pick up everything he leaves lying around - - books, shoes and clothing. Do everything for him so that he will be experienced in throwing all responsibility onto others.
6. Let him read any printed matter he can get his hands on. Be careful that the silverware and drinking glasses are sterilized, but let his mind feast on garbage.
7. Quarrel frequently in front of your children. In this way, he will not be too shocked when his home is broken up later.
8. Give a child all the spending money he wants. Never let him earn his own. Why should he have things as tough as you had them?
9. Satisfy his every carving for food, drink and comfort. See that every sensual desire is gratified. Denial may lead to harmful frustration.
10. Take his part against neighbors, teachers and policeman. They are all prejudiced against your child.
11. When he gets into real trouble, apologize for yourself by saying 'I never could do anything with him'.
12. Prepare yourself for a life of grief. You will be apt to have it.
[FROM THE HOUSTON, TEXAS POLICE DEPARTMENT - 1959]
It's funny, the time has gone by and we are almost 50 years from the time this was written.
Critics would claim that every generation of youth was decried by the previous one as being off the mark, but the truth is, with every passing generation we have accepted things as being okay which really aren't.
In the name of 'getting along' and 'free choice', we have legislated all kinds of sin.
Shame has disappeared as a motivation for change. We don't want to hurt someone's feelings by making them feel bad for their choices. The end result is that without shame, they choose even worse things at every turn of the screw.
Eventually, society 'jumps the shark'. We are derailed from our ambitions by our own lack of personal self-control. We are removed from opportunity, not because there is something preventing us from succeeding, but because we have chosen willingly to thwart ourselves.
Our society now rewards laziness as if it is some delightful new virtue. We pay corrupt businessmen for making lies seem plausible. We celebrate sin as if it is not a big deal and that those who don't see it the way that is the politically correct form for the day are somehow bigots.
It's time for a rewind, rewrite and do over.
We can't erase the past, but we can change gears and avoid the continued opportunity to pass over the shark in hopes that today won't be the day he jumps up and bites us in the butt with the natural consequences of stupid choices.
Just thinking while doing a bit of surfing this morning...
November 10, 2008
Pillar of Salt
I don't know why, but this particular day, the idea of someone turning into a pillar of salt seemed to be one random thought that wouldn't leave. Salt is an essential element to our bodies, not enough and you can't function well, too much and it functions poorly in other ways. It requires balance.
Here are some salt facts: (trust me, there is a point - besides the one on my head!)
SOURCE: http://www.healthmad.com/Nutrition/Important-Things-You-May-Not-Know-Regarding-Common-Salt.32582
When fire and brimstone rained down upon Sodom and Gomorrah, it wasn't because the people didn't all have the same rights and privileges. Lot's wife wasn't turned into a pillar of salt because her civil rights were violated. They chose to misuse their God-given agency and put themselves into peril.
Both of these happened because the people chose to 'lose their savor', they had chosen to become 'good for nothing but to be trodden under foot of men'. I don't hash through this. If the Bible said she was turned into a pillar of salt, she was.
But what a deficit she left in the lives of her family members who had to go on without her!
An interesting point I read on another website about this was that Lot's wife looking back wasn't an isolated moment of weakness, but rather a visible representation of a life which was focused on the things of the world instead of the things of God.
I think that may be more true than most of us realize. We don't tend to slip into sin and corruption overnight. It's an insidious process that takes time. The flaxen cords which bind so lightly at first become heavy chains from which escape may be genuinely impossible.
I do wonder at times, we often hear about the imperfect in our world as having 'feet of clay'.
Might we also consider the level of salt in our lives...?
How salty am I?
Here are some salt facts: (trust me, there is a point - besides the one on my head!)
SOURCE: http://www.healthmad.com/Nutrition/Important-Things-You-May-Not-Know-Regarding-Common-Salt.32582
Salt is very important for survival of most of the animals and particularly human. Without salt, the process of removing the excess of acid from the different body cells especially brain cell is hampered.
Salt balances the blood sugar level in our body and prevents muscle cramps.
Salt generally prevents the excessive saliva production, if you drool on your pillow, check your salt level.
Hospitals & private clinics make good fortune by charging around $300 for salt water also known as saline 4 bottle installed. But they won't disclose the fact that what the patients require is more salt and water in their diet.
There is vast difference between refined salt and unrefined salt as far as nutritional value is concerned. The taste of refined and unrefined salt is very different.
Refined salt or the common salt which we use daily in our food is 99.9 percent pure sodium chloride. It contains Aluminum silicate for it's free flow property.
Unrefined salt which our ancestor used in their food is only 98 percent pure sodium chloride. The rest of 2 percent is other minerals. Research has revealed that there are hundreds of different minerals and around 79 basic elements found in natural salt. Some important minerals are: salts of Potassium, calcium, phosphorous, Magnesium, Manganese and many more.
In the process of making the refined salt, all the essential trace materials known as impurities is removed and the salt is heated to very high temperature to crack down the original molecular structure of the salt.
So just how might this relate to the story in the Bible of Lot's wife?
Okey dokey, let's try this on for size:
- The mother is very important for survival of the human family. Without the mother, the process of caring for the family and removing the traces of the world from our home and from our thoughts is hampered. Men are good at doing a lot, but women do tend to be more easily entreated when it comes to spiritual matters.
- Mothers balance the good and the bad within the family. They can be the emotional barometer of ‘success in the home’.
- Like salt, Mothers prevent the family activity from cramping up the calendar with overloaded schedules and crashes of obligations.
- When children have trouble sleeping at night, the generally need their mother. While Dad can fit the bill sometimes, there are other times when only Mom will do.
- You can pay a lot of money to hire people to do what a mother does in the course of a day, but seldom do the experts tell you that no amount of money will ever replace “a mother’s heart”.
- There is a vast difference between a woman who is refined and approaches life with a personal elegance and one who lacks any sense of character. Emotional nurturing comes from a woman who knows her worth and has a savor all her own to help her balance out her responsibilities to others against the responsibility to self.
- The tastes of refined women and unrefined women are very different. That doesn’t necessarily mean they are wrong, they are just very different.
- A pure woman is comprised of many elements of the Spirit and has a free flow of tears whenever life is stressful or the Spirit of the Lord moves upon her in a personal way.
- An unrefined or uncultured woman in gospel terms is filled with the pollutants of the world. While she may look okay from a distance, up close she might be toxic or leave a bad taste in your mouth from the example she shows.
- Finally, the process of refining a woman is much like refining salt or silver. Both require high sustained heat (or trials) in order to remove the impurities of life and leave the finished product as something that is desirable and to be desired.
Lot missed out on that particular benefit as his helpmeet went in another direction. Because of her choice to look back onto the wickedness she was commanded to flee, she was turned into a pillar of salt. Like Brylcreme, a little dab will do you, but she was a truckload salt lick which became a 'see what can happen to you' moment for a millennia.
When fire and brimstone rained down upon Sodom and Gomorrah, it wasn't because the people didn't all have the same rights and privileges. Lot's wife wasn't turned into a pillar of salt because her civil rights were violated. They chose to misuse their God-given agency and put themselves into peril.
Both of these happened because the people chose to 'lose their savor', they had chosen to become 'good for nothing but to be trodden under foot of men'. I don't hash through this. If the Bible said she was turned into a pillar of salt, she was.
But what a deficit she left in the lives of her family members who had to go on without her!
An interesting point I read on another website about this was that Lot's wife looking back wasn't an isolated moment of weakness, but rather a visible representation of a life which was focused on the things of the world instead of the things of God.
I think that may be more true than most of us realize. We don't tend to slip into sin and corruption overnight. It's an insidious process that takes time. The flaxen cords which bind so lightly at first become heavy chains from which escape may be genuinely impossible.
I do wonder at times, we often hear about the imperfect in our world as having 'feet of clay'.
Might we also consider the level of salt in our lives...?
How salty am I?
November 5, 2008
Poly-ticks
My phone will once again be silent when it comes to people seeking my vote for anything.
The Kool-aid has been drunk and savored by the masses who are seeking for and have now voted into office their version of a messiah.
I did not, nor would I ever vote for someone who would willingly take upon himself that particular appellation without telling other people to stop calling him that name.
Instead, we now have a president elect who is willing to make his own Kool-aid, drink it, and believes that for the 'good of the nation' we should all belly up to the bar and have a swig.
In the King James Version of the Holy Bible it says:
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel. (New Testament 1 Timothy 5:8)
The nation's new president elect is suggesting that some elements of our society need no longer worry about being branded as in infidel. Instead, they can be the recipient of 'redistributed wealth".
Do what????
With the flush of success upon them, the newly anointed social police will be ramming the Marxist and Socialistic policies of failed nations down our throats and encouraging us to swallow and smile and feel better about taking care of others.
This isn't about taking care of the feeble, the infirm or the helpless.
This is about providing for those who are unwilling to care for their own as they have grown fat on the carcass of bloated social programs already costing our nation way too much money.
But like all socialist schemes from the past has shown, they will gain power and prominence and cause widespread suffering until the people cry 'uncle' and beg for relief from the oppressive regulations that remove freedom from one and present it as a gift wrapped token to those who have done nothing to earn, hold or preserve it.
Then, moderation is once again dusted off and removed from the shackles of oppression and pressed into service to 'fix the mess' that our nation has gotten itself into.
The problem here is that soon, there will not be a nation to preserve.
We are at war with ourselves from sea to shining sea. The principles and practices that made our nation great and a nation under God who believed that His sacred providence and grace were the root to the tree of freedom are increasingly being brought under attack.
The axe is laid at the very root of the tree and the cheers will be loud and mighty when our freedom falls to the ground. Nations of the world today are cheering because they know we are killing our own liberty to appease those who don't have it and don't respect it.
A majority has spoken through money to elect a man with no principles.
And like the ticks of the southern forests, he will suck out the blood of our nations' wealth and leave within a sickness that will devastate in due time.
The fever of unrealistic optimism has gripped those who cast their fates into the shifting sands of policy projected by the 'party of the people'.
And that is what they, and the people of the world who seek America's downfall are hoping for - one big party that makes people pay for whatever ails the 'downtrodden', even when their own choices have placed them there.
I have pity and compassion for the sinners of the world since I am one of them myself. I want my Savior to indeed save me from my sins, and, more importantly, to save me from MYSELF. I can't always see what is best for me and sometimes I willfully choose to do the wrong thing believing that it won't catch up to me...but it always does.
Now, we are entering a particularly painful time. The lesson will come, and it will be painful in ways that we cannot truly imagine.
But the question in my mind is, with all the politics as usual that have now created calamity to come, will anyone be left to listen at all?
Look unto God and cast your burdens at the feet of Jesus Christ. They are the only sure anchor to our souls and the only sure way.
Remember, our faith never promised us safety of the body, but rather, safety of the soul.
And I am reasonably sure there are no campaigns, elections or voter fraud in Heaven.
God does not allow it.
So to all of the blood suckers who will have their day in the sun, I leave a warning:
When all of the companies who provide the wheels to industry fold up, move out and shutter their doors, when the bread lines and soup lines wrap around the block because there is nothing on the shelves and when there are no longer people able to pay your way for you because of the forced "wealth sharing" bloodletting which has literally bled the nation dry, remember that YOU voted for "hope and change". I truly hope this wasn't the kind of change you voted for.
Because it will be the change you get and which all of us will be compelled to wade through as well. And if you KNEW this would be the outcome, it makes you worse than the ticks of the southern forests.
Also as a personal aside, I am not rich, but I share what I can when I can and literally shed tears wishing there was more I could do. But forcing me to starve my family out to provide for able bodies who COULD do for themselves doesn't sit well with me. The level of feigned outrage at what isn't being given to the 'disenfranchised' also makes me sick.
And that doesn't make me evil or greedy or hateful or racist.
It means I read my Bible.
Those who chose to live as infidels may get rewards in this life, but I guarantee there is no welfare check in Heaven.
The Kool-aid has been drunk and savored by the masses who are seeking for and have now voted into office their version of a messiah.
I did not, nor would I ever vote for someone who would willingly take upon himself that particular appellation without telling other people to stop calling him that name.
Instead, we now have a president elect who is willing to make his own Kool-aid, drink it, and believes that for the 'good of the nation' we should all belly up to the bar and have a swig.
In the King James Version of the Holy Bible it says:
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel. (New Testament 1 Timothy 5:8)
The nation's new president elect is suggesting that some elements of our society need no longer worry about being branded as in infidel. Instead, they can be the recipient of 'redistributed wealth".
Do what????
With the flush of success upon them, the newly anointed social police will be ramming the Marxist and Socialistic policies of failed nations down our throats and encouraging us to swallow and smile and feel better about taking care of others.
This isn't about taking care of the feeble, the infirm or the helpless.
This is about providing for those who are unwilling to care for their own as they have grown fat on the carcass of bloated social programs already costing our nation way too much money.
But like all socialist schemes from the past has shown, they will gain power and prominence and cause widespread suffering until the people cry 'uncle' and beg for relief from the oppressive regulations that remove freedom from one and present it as a gift wrapped token to those who have done nothing to earn, hold or preserve it.
Then, moderation is once again dusted off and removed from the shackles of oppression and pressed into service to 'fix the mess' that our nation has gotten itself into.
The problem here is that soon, there will not be a nation to preserve.
We are at war with ourselves from sea to shining sea. The principles and practices that made our nation great and a nation under God who believed that His sacred providence and grace were the root to the tree of freedom are increasingly being brought under attack.
The axe is laid at the very root of the tree and the cheers will be loud and mighty when our freedom falls to the ground. Nations of the world today are cheering because they know we are killing our own liberty to appease those who don't have it and don't respect it.
A majority has spoken through money to elect a man with no principles.
And like the ticks of the southern forests, he will suck out the blood of our nations' wealth and leave within a sickness that will devastate in due time.
The fever of unrealistic optimism has gripped those who cast their fates into the shifting sands of policy projected by the 'party of the people'.
And that is what they, and the people of the world who seek America's downfall are hoping for - one big party that makes people pay for whatever ails the 'downtrodden', even when their own choices have placed them there.
I have pity and compassion for the sinners of the world since I am one of them myself. I want my Savior to indeed save me from my sins, and, more importantly, to save me from MYSELF. I can't always see what is best for me and sometimes I willfully choose to do the wrong thing believing that it won't catch up to me...but it always does.
Now, we are entering a particularly painful time. The lesson will come, and it will be painful in ways that we cannot truly imagine.
But the question in my mind is, with all the politics as usual that have now created calamity to come, will anyone be left to listen at all?
Look unto God and cast your burdens at the feet of Jesus Christ. They are the only sure anchor to our souls and the only sure way.
Remember, our faith never promised us safety of the body, but rather, safety of the soul.
And I am reasonably sure there are no campaigns, elections or voter fraud in Heaven.
God does not allow it.
So to all of the blood suckers who will have their day in the sun, I leave a warning:
When all of the companies who provide the wheels to industry fold up, move out and shutter their doors, when the bread lines and soup lines wrap around the block because there is nothing on the shelves and when there are no longer people able to pay your way for you because of the forced "wealth sharing" bloodletting which has literally bled the nation dry, remember that YOU voted for "hope and change". I truly hope this wasn't the kind of change you voted for.
Because it will be the change you get and which all of us will be compelled to wade through as well. And if you KNEW this would be the outcome, it makes you worse than the ticks of the southern forests.
Also as a personal aside, I am not rich, but I share what I can when I can and literally shed tears wishing there was more I could do. But forcing me to starve my family out to provide for able bodies who COULD do for themselves doesn't sit well with me. The level of feigned outrage at what isn't being given to the 'disenfranchised' also makes me sick.
And that doesn't make me evil or greedy or hateful or racist.
It means I read my Bible.
Those who chose to live as infidels may get rewards in this life, but I guarantee there is no welfare check in Heaven.
October 31, 2008
All Hallow's Eve
Few people today realize that All Hallow's Eve precedes All Saint's Day as a religious day.
Now, the day is about spooky sights, goblins and candy in abundance.
I remember when I was a child, while the decor was decidedly 'tingly', it lack the menace that seems to occupy most set ups today.
When did it become okay to be so violent, abusive and downright sick?
I also remember the caramel apples studded with chopped nuts and the popcorn balls as big as a blue dot softball. The bobbing for apples, the 'witch's brew punch', the fog machines and the dry ice.
I remember the little plastic halloween masks that had the precut holes for eyes and nostrils with a mere slit for the mouth that never quite lined up to any of your own features.
I remember neighbors pretending not to know you and handing you enough treats to give you a belly ache.
I remember the fun and the feeling of excitement.
Now, it just doesn't seem safe.
Halloween has been taken over by people who seem to be lost. To combat this trend, there are lots of people who go to events hosted by various churches and civic groups. You can let the kids eat the food, because you know the people who brought it.
I want the days of a simpler life as a child to return. I don't want to think about everything that is no more.
I want to think about little pumpkins filled with goodies and the fun that used to be part of the night.
and I want to have my thoughts filled with those last caramel coated bites of apple before bedtime.
Happy All Hallow's Eve.
Now, the day is about spooky sights, goblins and candy in abundance.
I remember when I was a child, while the decor was decidedly 'tingly', it lack the menace that seems to occupy most set ups today.
When did it become okay to be so violent, abusive and downright sick?
I also remember the caramel apples studded with chopped nuts and the popcorn balls as big as a blue dot softball. The bobbing for apples, the 'witch's brew punch', the fog machines and the dry ice.
I remember the little plastic halloween masks that had the precut holes for eyes and nostrils with a mere slit for the mouth that never quite lined up to any of your own features.
I remember neighbors pretending not to know you and handing you enough treats to give you a belly ache.
I remember the fun and the feeling of excitement.
Now, it just doesn't seem safe.
Halloween has been taken over by people who seem to be lost. To combat this trend, there are lots of people who go to events hosted by various churches and civic groups. You can let the kids eat the food, because you know the people who brought it.
I want the days of a simpler life as a child to return. I don't want to think about everything that is no more.
I want to think about little pumpkins filled with goodies and the fun that used to be part of the night.
and I want to have my thoughts filled with those last caramel coated bites of apple before bedtime.
Happy All Hallow's Eve.
October 30, 2008
Writer's Block
I used to have a fantasy of creating a neighborhood.
It was in my mind that each of the places in that neighborhood would have a name that sort of set that street apart from the others both in theme and character.
Since my relationship to the Rockerfellers or Getty's is sketchy at best, my chances of building my dream is realized only in Lego's at this point in my life.
Like all wanna be's, my delusions of grandeur when it comes to writing come crashing down around my head once in a while. It doesn't prevent me from placing my fingers on the keyboard again for another try, but it tempers when those events occur.
More and more, I find that the way my mind works is disfunctional.
While that might be suitable for the day to day events that are my life, I realize that true greatness in writing doesn't work that way.
A lot like my idea of forming a neighborhood, it can't be done without the necessary resources, and in this case, those would be adequate literary training.
Like a ship without a rudder or a dozer missing it's working blade, I tend to write in circles that look busy, but produce no direction and no discernable work.
So I ponder how I can get to what I desire.
I'd like to have a way to write the things I see, however incomplete they are in my head and heart, but bring them full circle so that someone else would see some worth in the project.
But the dreaded writer's block rears it's ugly head.
Perhaps a merging of the two ideas is in order. A neighborhood and writing combined into an alliance.
Let's see: Welcome to Bookend Estates. Here is a map of our neighborhood and our community. You will note our office, gathering place and clubhouse are all located conveniently here on 'Writer's Block'.
Turning from there to go into the neighborhood, you will follow one of several roads which are interconnected throughout the community. Since our community is seeking to be energy efficient, the use of golf carts and electric vehicles is strongly encouraged. Therefore we have outlined on the map the various paths and their intersections with the main roadway.
We have the Psycho Path for those who are having a hard time connecting with reality.
There is the Sylvia Plath for those who are feeling a little depressed, but write their thoughts out anyway.
And in the back, for the idyllic newly wedded writers who have yet to come out of their romance with the language, there is the Bridal Path.
Yeah, I know...
stupid.
But that is the kind of innane random thought process that grips me when I have a migraine and it hangs over me for days.
If you are fortunate enough to avoid the writer's block that is part of my personal struggle - I will look for your works on the New York Times Bestseller's list.
If you, like me, are part of the unfortunate crowd, I'll save a spot for you on Rorschach Road. We'll study the oil stains and see if we can come up with universal meaning.
In the meantime, God bless!
It was in my mind that each of the places in that neighborhood would have a name that sort of set that street apart from the others both in theme and character.
Since my relationship to the Rockerfellers or Getty's is sketchy at best, my chances of building my dream is realized only in Lego's at this point in my life.
Like all wanna be's, my delusions of grandeur when it comes to writing come crashing down around my head once in a while. It doesn't prevent me from placing my fingers on the keyboard again for another try, but it tempers when those events occur.
More and more, I find that the way my mind works is disfunctional.
While that might be suitable for the day to day events that are my life, I realize that true greatness in writing doesn't work that way.
A lot like my idea of forming a neighborhood, it can't be done without the necessary resources, and in this case, those would be adequate literary training.
Like a ship without a rudder or a dozer missing it's working blade, I tend to write in circles that look busy, but produce no direction and no discernable work.
So I ponder how I can get to what I desire.
I'd like to have a way to write the things I see, however incomplete they are in my head and heart, but bring them full circle so that someone else would see some worth in the project.
But the dreaded writer's block rears it's ugly head.
Perhaps a merging of the two ideas is in order. A neighborhood and writing combined into an alliance.
Let's see: Welcome to Bookend Estates. Here is a map of our neighborhood and our community. You will note our office, gathering place and clubhouse are all located conveniently here on 'Writer's Block'.
Turning from there to go into the neighborhood, you will follow one of several roads which are interconnected throughout the community. Since our community is seeking to be energy efficient, the use of golf carts and electric vehicles is strongly encouraged. Therefore we have outlined on the map the various paths and their intersections with the main roadway.
We have the Psycho Path for those who are having a hard time connecting with reality.
There is the Sylvia Plath for those who are feeling a little depressed, but write their thoughts out anyway.
And in the back, for the idyllic newly wedded writers who have yet to come out of their romance with the language, there is the Bridal Path.
Yeah, I know...
stupid.
But that is the kind of innane random thought process that grips me when I have a migraine and it hangs over me for days.
If you are fortunate enough to avoid the writer's block that is part of my personal struggle - I will look for your works on the New York Times Bestseller's list.
If you, like me, are part of the unfortunate crowd, I'll save a spot for you on Rorschach Road. We'll study the oil stains and see if we can come up with universal meaning.
In the meantime, God bless!
October 24, 2008
Kenny, Denise and Me
Ah yes.
A rainy Friday. It begs to begin with a grilled cheese on rye. I realize my penance will be more time on the treadmill and with the ever-smiling Denise Austin.
But for now, the grilled cheese is going down with Kenny playing in the background. His mellow voice assures me that I have made a good choice for the day.
Days like this remind me of why everyone needs a personal library of favorite books to curl up with and savor.
I have always enjoyed reading. Although, I confess, I have not always enjoyed WHAT I have read. Sometimes, the assignments from school were more an exercise in attempting to survive the moment and grab a decent grade on the way to snatching my diploma. But now that I am adult, I can honestly say that I do read for pleasure.
Whether music or books, a great deal of both are now defined by what brings me a sense of joy, peace or whatever emotion I need at that moment. I confess that I am also a big fan of well-written murder-mystery books.
Having said that, I issue the disclaimer that I DO NOT care for books where the overplayed sense of gory turns the story itself into an afterthought. Nor do I care for books that glorify and exalt bedroom antics as if the information was all new. Like the line from a movie once said, "I don't know, they wrote 'Fanny Hill' in 1742 [sic] and they haven't found anything new since."
I like books about the efforts of men and women in the military who serve a greater purpose than self. I listen to music that makes the same statement about becoming more than we are at a given point in time. And I listen to it for the same reason that I read the books.
I want to show up at the pearly gates with something in between my ears besides dust.
Well, it's time to get the chicken into the crockpot for dinner and the laundry beckons. I'll put Kenny on hold and bow to the need to move muscles I seldom use while the perky voice of Denise Austin soothingly reminds me I only have 12 million sets to go.
Ah, rainy days and Fridays...
A rainy Friday. It begs to begin with a grilled cheese on rye. I realize my penance will be more time on the treadmill and with the ever-smiling Denise Austin.
But for now, the grilled cheese is going down with Kenny playing in the background. His mellow voice assures me that I have made a good choice for the day.
Days like this remind me of why everyone needs a personal library of favorite books to curl up with and savor.
I have always enjoyed reading. Although, I confess, I have not always enjoyed WHAT I have read. Sometimes, the assignments from school were more an exercise in attempting to survive the moment and grab a decent grade on the way to snatching my diploma. But now that I am adult, I can honestly say that I do read for pleasure.
Whether music or books, a great deal of both are now defined by what brings me a sense of joy, peace or whatever emotion I need at that moment. I confess that I am also a big fan of well-written murder-mystery books.
Having said that, I issue the disclaimer that I DO NOT care for books where the overplayed sense of gory turns the story itself into an afterthought. Nor do I care for books that glorify and exalt bedroom antics as if the information was all new. Like the line from a movie once said, "I don't know, they wrote 'Fanny Hill' in 1742 [sic] and they haven't found anything new since."
I like books about the efforts of men and women in the military who serve a greater purpose than self. I listen to music that makes the same statement about becoming more than we are at a given point in time. And I listen to it for the same reason that I read the books.
I want to show up at the pearly gates with something in between my ears besides dust.
Well, it's time to get the chicken into the crockpot for dinner and the laundry beckons. I'll put Kenny on hold and bow to the need to move muscles I seldom use while the perky voice of Denise Austin soothingly reminds me I only have 12 million sets to go.
Ah, rainy days and Fridays...
October 19, 2008
What if it was time . . .
Thanks to borrowing a book (actually more than one, but I digress) and conversation after the 5k yesterday, I have spent the night thinking and dreaming about the coming gathering of Israel. If the time came, would I indeed join in the host of Israel, or would I turn my back on the calling and resist the word of the Lord for whatever justifications I could create?
Would I let family circumstances and choices dictate my own?
Would I have the courage to come 'out from the world' and hear the voice of the prophet even if others whom I had once trusted chose differently?
I can't say what the future holds for any of us. I am not foretelling gloom and doom, but I do wonder about my own personal understanding of just what it means to come out from the world and be gathered home unto God in the New Jerusalem.
Everyone I know, with rare exception, is trying to live a good life as best as they can. Sometimes, we fall short in our striving, but we get up and keep trying to make progress.
I can truly liken it to the progress of making my way through the 5k yesterday. It was an up and down route that was a bit tougher than I expected or was prepared for. Of course, I had no way of knowing just what it would be like until I got there.
A lot like our mortal journey, the 5k is a physical representation of the emotional and spiritual efforts which must be applied to be able to prepare to be counted worthy among the house of Israel when the time comes.
Not wishing to be 'salt which has lost its savor', I need all the help I can get. Sometimes, the balky child in me doesn't want to be told what to do, but the occasionally humble adult in me realizes that this isn't something I can do or claim on my own. I NEED the help, the support and the guidance of others and most of all, of my Father in Heaven, in order to make it home.
Rick and I had an interesting discussion related to it all. We decided we would need another trailer in order to bring what we had to share in the temporal preparations to help in our poor way to build the New Jerusalem.
It was sort of tongue in cheek at first, then it became rather animated as we contrasted the idea of gathering from our relative prosperity to the gathering of the early pioneers who gathered, by and large, from their want. They had little, yet those who believed that they were indeed following the Lord gathered what they had and pointed their wagons west to an unknown future guided only by faith.
We have a great deal of the blessings of life. We don't often assess our position in regards to the past generations who would look upon even the most humble of circumstances in our day and age and find themselves astonished to see the luxury that is so taken for granted.
Would those blessings of ease and prosperity keep me from being able to hear and obey?
Just thinking through the keyboard this Sunday morning. . .
Would I let family circumstances and choices dictate my own?
Would I have the courage to come 'out from the world' and hear the voice of the prophet even if others whom I had once trusted chose differently?
I can't say what the future holds for any of us. I am not foretelling gloom and doom, but I do wonder about my own personal understanding of just what it means to come out from the world and be gathered home unto God in the New Jerusalem.
Everyone I know, with rare exception, is trying to live a good life as best as they can. Sometimes, we fall short in our striving, but we get up and keep trying to make progress.
I can truly liken it to the progress of making my way through the 5k yesterday. It was an up and down route that was a bit tougher than I expected or was prepared for. Of course, I had no way of knowing just what it would be like until I got there.
A lot like our mortal journey, the 5k is a physical representation of the emotional and spiritual efforts which must be applied to be able to prepare to be counted worthy among the house of Israel when the time comes.
Not wishing to be 'salt which has lost its savor', I need all the help I can get. Sometimes, the balky child in me doesn't want to be told what to do, but the occasionally humble adult in me realizes that this isn't something I can do or claim on my own. I NEED the help, the support and the guidance of others and most of all, of my Father in Heaven, in order to make it home.
Rick and I had an interesting discussion related to it all. We decided we would need another trailer in order to bring what we had to share in the temporal preparations to help in our poor way to build the New Jerusalem.
It was sort of tongue in cheek at first, then it became rather animated as we contrasted the idea of gathering from our relative prosperity to the gathering of the early pioneers who gathered, by and large, from their want. They had little, yet those who believed that they were indeed following the Lord gathered what they had and pointed their wagons west to an unknown future guided only by faith.
We have a great deal of the blessings of life. We don't often assess our position in regards to the past generations who would look upon even the most humble of circumstances in our day and age and find themselves astonished to see the luxury that is so taken for granted.
Would those blessings of ease and prosperity keep me from being able to hear and obey?
Just thinking through the keyboard this Sunday morning. . .
October 15, 2008
More Righteous
While reading some random passages in the scriptures, I came across one again that always give me a little pause...
And because they did cast them all out, that there were none righteous among them, I did send down fire and destroy them, that their wickedness and abominations might be hid from before my face, that the blood of the prophets and the saints whom I sent among them might not cry unto me from the ground against them. And many great destructions have I caused to come upon this land, and upon this people, because of their wickedness and their abominations. O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?
(Book of Mormon 3 Nephi 9:11 - 13)
With startling clarity it comes to me again and again. Jesus was not speaking to them because they were totally righteous, he was speaking to them because they were more righteous than the people who were destroyed!
They were just the best of the worst.
Which made me think about my own spiritual commitments.
Am I the best of the worst? The worst of the worst? Lukewarm in my covenants and commitments, am I fit only to be spewed out as being 'neither hot nor cold'?
I have been reading some apocalyptic books of late which are set in a spiritual perspective that reminds me that even good people will not be spared the difficulties which most certainly are coming. But the 'more righteous' will have an opportunity to 'return and repent' and, if we prove worthy, be healed by the Lord of all that troubles us.
There was a hymn I learned a while back called "More Holiness Give Me". The lyrics are compelling to me because it is a pleading prayer to become more than we are on our own, specifically, more than I am in my sinful and polluted state.
Our society has accepted a wide variety of perversion in the name of being tolerant. That isn't tolerance - it's sin.
We can't expect our Father to take us as we are and just hope for the best with no preparation to BE the best.
Momma told me one time that if we didn't repent of our sins, we would be as out of place in the holy, pure and clean kingdom of God as a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo. It just doesn't work.
The intent is there, but like the 5 foolish virgins who had prepared only part of the way, we won't get into the kingdom on the good deeds and sacrifice of another.
Scary thoughts.
But necessary.
Without the proper preparation both temporally and spiritually, we have no hope at all.
Jesus Christ stands with His arms outstretched and tenderly pleads with us to turn to Him.
We want all sorts of substitutes for what is right. I know anytime I justify my own lack of good choices by making it seem all 'reasonable', I have opened the door and kicked the Holy Spirit right out. Then, I wonder later on why things seem so dark and foreboding.
One of the books I was reading had an interesting passage in it that talked about the self-justifying behaviors that we allow ourselves to wallow in while still believing that it doesn't matter and that those who are wiser heads simple 'are out of touch'.
Funny thing is, those wiser heads are the very people we run to when the house of cards collapses and our world of lies burns us up in the flames we lit.
I want to be better - tomorrow. But I want the benefits of good choices today.
Like the 5 foolish virgins who took no thought for preparation and would have bankrupted others of spiritual light if it were possible, I fear that our tether to the principles of the Gospel are only as tightly wound as our testimony that the leadership of the Church is truly inspired of God.
When we say we sustain them, do we? Do I? Or is it a matter of personal convenience instead of being a matter of personal righteousness?
Voices cry and clamor for change. And change they will get. But it won't be the kind of change they hoped for long-term. The suffering will be great and damage will be done.
But there is One who has already paid the price for the arrogance, the pride and the short-sightedness and who will take all of us back - if only we will be gathered.
Just something to chew on while watching the world revolve...
And because they did cast them all out, that there were none righteous among them, I did send down fire and destroy them, that their wickedness and abominations might be hid from before my face, that the blood of the prophets and the saints whom I sent among them might not cry unto me from the ground against them. And many great destructions have I caused to come upon this land, and upon this people, because of their wickedness and their abominations. O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?
(Book of Mormon 3 Nephi 9:11 - 13)
With startling clarity it comes to me again and again. Jesus was not speaking to them because they were totally righteous, he was speaking to them because they were more righteous than the people who were destroyed!
They were just the best of the worst.
Which made me think about my own spiritual commitments.
Am I the best of the worst? The worst of the worst? Lukewarm in my covenants and commitments, am I fit only to be spewed out as being 'neither hot nor cold'?
I have been reading some apocalyptic books of late which are set in a spiritual perspective that reminds me that even good people will not be spared the difficulties which most certainly are coming. But the 'more righteous' will have an opportunity to 'return and repent' and, if we prove worthy, be healed by the Lord of all that troubles us.
There was a hymn I learned a while back called "More Holiness Give Me". The lyrics are compelling to me because it is a pleading prayer to become more than we are on our own, specifically, more than I am in my sinful and polluted state.
Our society has accepted a wide variety of perversion in the name of being tolerant. That isn't tolerance - it's sin.
We can't expect our Father to take us as we are and just hope for the best with no preparation to BE the best.
Momma told me one time that if we didn't repent of our sins, we would be as out of place in the holy, pure and clean kingdom of God as a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo. It just doesn't work.
The intent is there, but like the 5 foolish virgins who had prepared only part of the way, we won't get into the kingdom on the good deeds and sacrifice of another.
Scary thoughts.
But necessary.
Without the proper preparation both temporally and spiritually, we have no hope at all.
Jesus Christ stands with His arms outstretched and tenderly pleads with us to turn to Him.
We want all sorts of substitutes for what is right. I know anytime I justify my own lack of good choices by making it seem all 'reasonable', I have opened the door and kicked the Holy Spirit right out. Then, I wonder later on why things seem so dark and foreboding.
One of the books I was reading had an interesting passage in it that talked about the self-justifying behaviors that we allow ourselves to wallow in while still believing that it doesn't matter and that those who are wiser heads simple 'are out of touch'.
Funny thing is, those wiser heads are the very people we run to when the house of cards collapses and our world of lies burns us up in the flames we lit.
I want to be better - tomorrow. But I want the benefits of good choices today.
Like the 5 foolish virgins who took no thought for preparation and would have bankrupted others of spiritual light if it were possible, I fear that our tether to the principles of the Gospel are only as tightly wound as our testimony that the leadership of the Church is truly inspired of God.
When we say we sustain them, do we? Do I? Or is it a matter of personal convenience instead of being a matter of personal righteousness?
Voices cry and clamor for change. And change they will get. But it won't be the kind of change they hoped for long-term. The suffering will be great and damage will be done.
But there is One who has already paid the price for the arrogance, the pride and the short-sightedness and who will take all of us back - if only we will be gathered.
Just something to chew on while watching the world revolve...
October 11, 2008
Saturday
When I was a child, the very mention of the word 'Saturday' was like a carnival ride or a trip to another reality.
Bestowing a trip to Courthouse Square and a stop at the soda fountain, Saturday meant that we could go out on an adventure with Daddy to do new things and meet new people.
As an adult, my Saturday has a slightly different meaning. Generally meant to be a day filled with catch-up work, forgotten laundry and the household chores that require more than just a few moments of time.
The lyrics to the Primary song about Saturday being a 'special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday' float through my thoughts.
Sometimes, it does feel like we are getting ready for Sunday and sometimes it feels more like brute survival of the week.
This time of year, Saturday adds the dimension of also being college football day. With good planning, I can catch the action beginning about 11 am and work my way through my chores with the drone of the various ballgames in the background for virtually the entire day.
Sadly, my beloved Tide are off today. Perhaps that is a fortunate thing, though. They need to 'tighten up' in preparation for the last half of their season.
Then, we add the time spent reading through the lessons that will be presented in Sunday School and the auxilliary meetings we each have. Mostly, that happens after dinnertime, since that can be a quiet time, depending upon activity for the day.
But Saturday just doesn't have the ice cream, soda pop and cheese crackers flavor of childhood anymore.
Sure, I can go to the drug store and sit at the soda fountain and order all of those things again. But the appeal isn't quite the same. The reality of this is that the memory of those days isn't so much the menu but the time and season of my life to that point.
Daddy would hold our tiny hands in his large hands gently and help us up to our counter stools while we placed our orders. We talked about everything and anything. We spent the time getting to know each other in the tender talk of family.
Now, our time together with Daddy is generally over dinners. I have him join us as often as his schedule allows. It's nice just to sit and enjoy the company.
Saturday is a special day.
It has a meaning that transcends a single memory or a moment in time.
It is a day to be family.
Bestowing a trip to Courthouse Square and a stop at the soda fountain, Saturday meant that we could go out on an adventure with Daddy to do new things and meet new people.
As an adult, my Saturday has a slightly different meaning. Generally meant to be a day filled with catch-up work, forgotten laundry and the household chores that require more than just a few moments of time.
The lyrics to the Primary song about Saturday being a 'special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday' float through my thoughts.
Sometimes, it does feel like we are getting ready for Sunday and sometimes it feels more like brute survival of the week.
This time of year, Saturday adds the dimension of also being college football day. With good planning, I can catch the action beginning about 11 am and work my way through my chores with the drone of the various ballgames in the background for virtually the entire day.
Sadly, my beloved Tide are off today. Perhaps that is a fortunate thing, though. They need to 'tighten up' in preparation for the last half of their season.
Then, we add the time spent reading through the lessons that will be presented in Sunday School and the auxilliary meetings we each have. Mostly, that happens after dinnertime, since that can be a quiet time, depending upon activity for the day.
But Saturday just doesn't have the ice cream, soda pop and cheese crackers flavor of childhood anymore.
Sure, I can go to the drug store and sit at the soda fountain and order all of those things again. But the appeal isn't quite the same. The reality of this is that the memory of those days isn't so much the menu but the time and season of my life to that point.
Daddy would hold our tiny hands in his large hands gently and help us up to our counter stools while we placed our orders. We talked about everything and anything. We spent the time getting to know each other in the tender talk of family.
Now, our time together with Daddy is generally over dinners. I have him join us as often as his schedule allows. It's nice just to sit and enjoy the company.
Saturday is a special day.
It has a meaning that transcends a single memory or a moment in time.
It is a day to be family.
October 6, 2008
Balm in Gilead
Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered? (Old Testament Jeremiah 8:22)
Go up into Gilead, and take balm, O virgin, the daughter of Egypt: in vain shalt thou use many medicines; for thou shalt not be cured. (Old Testament Jeremiah 46:11)
The last few days have been an interesting blend of pain, struggles, fun, excitement and spiritual connection.
Sometimes, the chaos of my life drives me to my knees in ways that are hard to recover from without a healing balm that comes from God. Reading my scriptures and hearing the beautiful and saving words found in the hymns goes a long way in restoring the peace that is stripped away by the subtle dealings of the Devil in my life, mind and spirit.
I have been counseled many times to reach for the scriptures and my music to help heal the troubled waters in my life.
During our choir journey this fall, we are learning a beautiful and sacred hymn for Stake Conference. "Balm in Gilead" was a Negro spiritual that has been given a different setting by composer/arranger Benjamin Harlan. The words to the hymn are a message of the struggle that we each face in our own personal and unique ways.
The arrangement of the versing for men's and women's voicings is so very tender that it heals with a feather-light touch.
When I looked up the scriptures that attended this song, something else happened. I began to see that what people were searching for in the days of the prophet Jeremiah were no different than the thing they search for now - peace. Peace of heart, peace of soul and peace of conscience.
We all want to be accepted and acceptable. Even in the wildest rebellion of my life, I secretly wanted to be enfolded by the Good Shepherd and loved for who I was, not just for who I could become.
John Gottman, a noted family therapist, once said, "One of the great paradoxes in therapy is that people don't change unless they feel accepted as they are."
The same can be said for our relationship to the sacred.
I WANT to have the supernal peace and understanding that comes to the sheep of the fold, but that ever present struggle to know how to obey the shepherd and still be counted as a distinct member of the flock is a hard fought struggle. It brings anguish of soul to know that sometimes I have fled from the very protection I seek.
In Webster's Dictionary, the word balm is defined as being an agency that soothes, relieves, or heals.
In Jeremiah's day, the question was the same as the one we as in ours. Is there a balm in Gilead, or anywhere else, that can soothe, relieve and heal?
The answer is a definative yes!
Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, that healing balm is made available to all through the price of His blood.
Boyd K. Packer once said, "There is no habit, no addiction, no rebellion, no transgression, no apostasy, no crime exempted from the promise of complete forgiveness. That is the promise of the Atonement of Christ."
We are not perfect beings. We are striving to LEARN how to become perfected in and through Jesus Christ. To know that His sacred Atonement provides for those times when we are troubled by life and can be healed through the Holy Spirit is a balm indeed.
Then there are the times when we may be simply weighed down by the very act of just surviving mortality for one more day.
The healing and comforting balm is there even on those times, at the very moment when we need it the most.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (New Testament Matthew 11:28 - 30)
Nowhere in there does Christ tell the sheep to forget their individuality. He simply invites us to come and learn of Him and find rest to our souls.
The Psalmist wrote, "Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved." (Old Testament Psalms 55:22)
Because of the understanding I have, however simplistic it is to the mind of another, I believe there IS a balm in Gilead, a refuge and a haven to be found in the Savior, Jesus Christ. There is no other source to which we can reliably turn to receive the comfort for our pains that can be found in the loving arms of our Savior.
While the trials and torments of life come to us all, the healing balm of the Son of God is always available to us to lift and bless us in times of our greatest need.
There IS a balm in Gilead and His name is Jesus Christ.
Go up into Gilead, and take balm, O virgin, the daughter of Egypt: in vain shalt thou use many medicines; for thou shalt not be cured. (Old Testament Jeremiah 46:11)
The last few days have been an interesting blend of pain, struggles, fun, excitement and spiritual connection.
Sometimes, the chaos of my life drives me to my knees in ways that are hard to recover from without a healing balm that comes from God. Reading my scriptures and hearing the beautiful and saving words found in the hymns goes a long way in restoring the peace that is stripped away by the subtle dealings of the Devil in my life, mind and spirit.
I have been counseled many times to reach for the scriptures and my music to help heal the troubled waters in my life.
During our choir journey this fall, we are learning a beautiful and sacred hymn for Stake Conference. "Balm in Gilead" was a Negro spiritual that has been given a different setting by composer/arranger Benjamin Harlan. The words to the hymn are a message of the struggle that we each face in our own personal and unique ways.
The arrangement of the versing for men's and women's voicings is so very tender that it heals with a feather-light touch.
When I looked up the scriptures that attended this song, something else happened. I began to see that what people were searching for in the days of the prophet Jeremiah were no different than the thing they search for now - peace. Peace of heart, peace of soul and peace of conscience.
We all want to be accepted and acceptable. Even in the wildest rebellion of my life, I secretly wanted to be enfolded by the Good Shepherd and loved for who I was, not just for who I could become.
John Gottman, a noted family therapist, once said, "One of the great paradoxes in therapy is that people don't change unless they feel accepted as they are."
The same can be said for our relationship to the sacred.
I WANT to have the supernal peace and understanding that comes to the sheep of the fold, but that ever present struggle to know how to obey the shepherd and still be counted as a distinct member of the flock is a hard fought struggle. It brings anguish of soul to know that sometimes I have fled from the very protection I seek.
In Webster's Dictionary, the word balm is defined as being an agency that soothes, relieves, or heals.
In Jeremiah's day, the question was the same as the one we as in ours. Is there a balm in Gilead, or anywhere else, that can soothe, relieve and heal?
The answer is a definative yes!
Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, that healing balm is made available to all through the price of His blood.
Boyd K. Packer once said, "There is no habit, no addiction, no rebellion, no transgression, no apostasy, no crime exempted from the promise of complete forgiveness. That is the promise of the Atonement of Christ."
We are not perfect beings. We are striving to LEARN how to become perfected in and through Jesus Christ. To know that His sacred Atonement provides for those times when we are troubled by life and can be healed through the Holy Spirit is a balm indeed.
Then there are the times when we may be simply weighed down by the very act of just surviving mortality for one more day.
The healing and comforting balm is there even on those times, at the very moment when we need it the most.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (New Testament Matthew 11:28 - 30)
Nowhere in there does Christ tell the sheep to forget their individuality. He simply invites us to come and learn of Him and find rest to our souls.
The Psalmist wrote, "Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved." (Old Testament Psalms 55:22)
Because of the understanding I have, however simplistic it is to the mind of another, I believe there IS a balm in Gilead, a refuge and a haven to be found in the Savior, Jesus Christ. There is no other source to which we can reliably turn to receive the comfort for our pains that can be found in the loving arms of our Savior.
While the trials and torments of life come to us all, the healing balm of the Son of God is always available to us to lift and bless us in times of our greatest need.
There IS a balm in Gilead and His name is Jesus Christ.
October 4, 2008
It's All About BRAD!!!!
BRAD!!!!!Hello handsome!
While I am QUITE SURE that you are not aware of my presence in the audience, I am absolutely sure that you are singing for ME.
These other people are like commercial filler.
This has been an AWESOME night!
Thanks to the fact that my best friend is as looney as I am and cares enough about the state of my mental well being to make sure I get to leave the house once in a while dressed in something other than a t-shirt and jeans, Beth got birthday tickets for us to go and see Brad.
Brad Paisley, of course! Is there any other one whom I'd care to see?
Uh, DON'T THINK SO!!
It was so cool to see him actually live and in person! It is one thing to watch the videos and to enjoy Brad's creamy, silken voice on the internet and over the airwaves, but to actually be within a stones' throw of him and see THE MAN in person was incredible!
The outdoor amphitheater we were in was partially filled when we arrived with more drunks arriving by the moment. I have no qualms about people having their adult beverages in the privacy of their home or when they have a designated driver.
I, however, draw the line at their sharing their beer with me across my left shoe. Call it a weakness. The shoe is now marinating in Lysol and getting a bath.
Hearing the screaming from people around me (because you know that I would NEVER participate in that sort of vulgar display!) was also part of the fun. For the record, I came home pretty hoarse -but I'll live.
Although I took my camera with the intent of collecting some photographs of the nights joy and wonder, I have to admit that shaking hands, jumping up and down and screaming to the top of my lungs once in a while did nothing for the photo quality.
The good part is I DID get a couple of good shots. The bad part is that depsite the number of aperture clicks from the concert, not all of the photographs were good. But rowdy people who are making noise while watching a concert aren't known for their stellar skills in clarity and focus. You take what you can get.
I have to say the best part of the night was sharing the moment with someone like Beth who is dyed in the wool, hard-core country who knows the ebb and flow of the emotions in the songs and who knows all the WORDS to all the songs, too. It's hard to enjoy a concert with someone when they are not 'invested' in the music and the act. Sure, it is still nice to go, but when you are with a fan, it makes being a fan yourself just a little bit better. Plus, singing along is just that little bit of love that we can throw back to the people who have shared their talents with us. It's a better gift than throwing bras onstage like they do at some concerts. Plus, frankly, what is Brad going to do with a pile of sweaty bras anyway? It's not like HE uses them.
As I sit here pondering the night's events, I must also mention that last night bore NONE of the trappings of the Hollyweird crowd. It was by and large a family event. Witness that statement by the number of kids and families who had come to share in the fabulous music and guitar playing which absolutely blew me away. (Go, Brad!)
And I was over the moon for him to sing (to me, of course) two of my favorite songs: "I'm Still A Guy" and "Waitin' On A Woman". There weren't any songs that weren't my favorites if the truth be told. His catalog of music just fits the contoures of my life.
I am thankful to have a husband who encourages me to get out and enjoy the things and people who make me happy. There are women who don't have that freedom and some who choose not to take it even when it is available.
More power to them.
I need these breaks in life to bring a semblance of sanity back into the room. I contribute way too much to the removal of sanity in my own life ...
Now, I will spend the day catching up on chores, doing the wash and mostly just remembering how nice it was to have a personal audience with Brad... even if he didn't know it was me he was singing for.
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