Gratitude

In light of the recent news event involving the now deceased Terri Schiavo, I realized that I have taken our son in laws for granted. They are both great guys who work hard and provide love and support to our daughters and their sons. They sometimes even spoil their wives, something I confess we probably did too when they were at home. I know that they have done without something they wanted so that their spouses would have what they needed.
I just wanted to thank them publicly, hoping that would know that they are really appreciated. If you see them, tell them thanks for me.

Actions speak louder than words

In her teen years our Ruth had a crush on 'Blondie". He cycled in and out of her life, moving on to greener pasture and returning to grace her tender heart again. On one of those recycles, we returned home to find him on our doorstep, literally, talking to Ruth. He was all charm and she was all smiles. We expressed our doubt to him that he would be faithful to our daughter, though I can't remember what we really said. I am sure it seemed like an emotional ice bucket to her.
The next day I wrote him a note, as is my practice when things hit me. I enclosed a verse from Proverbs:
Many a man proclaims his own loyalty, but who can find a trustworthy man?

Within that week, Jon and I saw him riding in our neighborhood in his convertible, with the top down, charming the sox off a lovely blond, who was NOT our daughter.
As my Father used to say,' actions speak louder than words.'
That is how I see Michael Schiavo. On the one hand he declares he wants ( and knows) what's best for his wife. On the other, he has a girl friend and two kids, born while Terri has been in the hospital. So as far as I can see, he is about a trustworthy as 'Blondie', but old enough to know better.

It's not fair!

If our girls said it once, they said it a trillion times in their growing up years, it's not fair. Of course I can't remember all the situations now but one sticks out from Debe's Freshman year of high school. She had begun school with a new pair of jeans. She came home the first day declaring she was the only one in the WHOLE school who only had one pair of jeans.
"It's not fair", she whined. Everyone else has two or more. Why do I have only one pair?"
I smugly replied the time worn phrase, " Life is not fair". I guess I meant to convey the thought that not everyone gets the same privileges.
To end this incident I have to say that my dear friend Fran told me her son Chris said the same thing. So I guess that at least two kids at Downey High had only one pair of jeans to their name and should have been thankful. And no, I did not run right out and buy her another pair.
I am sure that Ruth said those words when Debe got to do something at an age she had been denied it. I know that both girls said it relating to things we allowed the grandsons to do at an age and stage they were not. (I must be getting soft in my old age!!!)
Today I saw that I was wrong all these years. Life is not fair, true, but maybe it should be.
Case in point:
Why is it fair to starve a disabled woman to death? The only answer is that it is not fair and I hope that our nation figures that out before I or my family members become that disabled woman.
Think about it.

Snail races

The snails were out in full force last night, advancing slowly across the driveway after the rain. This morning one even had the nerve to climb up the table leg and over the patio table top heading for the cyclamem basket. How they love to munch the leaves.
Sighting them in the driveway last night caused Jon to remind me of the snail races we have several years ago. We collected several 'racers' and drew a course on poster board. We placed fresh fennel at the end of each lane to motivate them. It wasn't exactly the Boston marathon, though is seemed to last as long before one of the snails made it to the finish line.
Afterward the winner's 'owner' celebrated with a candy bar while we all sang this song:
Be patient
Be patient
Don't be in such a hurry
When you get impatient
You only start to worry
Remember
Remember
That God is patient too
And think of all the times
That others had to wait on you.

Actually that is pretty good advice to remember the next time your lane at the grocery store seems to move forward like a snail race!

Liar, Liar

'Liar, Liar, pants on fire', little children say. I am not sure where that ever got started. But lying seems to be second nature to us all. We even grade lies into 'little white lies' as opposed to other lies.
We chose not to lie to our kids about the existence of the 'Easter Bunny'. First off, what bunny lays eggs? None that I know of. Secondly, there is not way that this 'Easter Bunny' goes around delivering baskets of goodies like Santa. We never lied to our girls because we knew that eventually they would come to the realization that the Easter bunny was a figment of their imagination fostered by their parents. Then they would always question what we told me, seeing us as liars.
The whole Christian faith is based on the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. If Christ was not raised from the dead, my faith is useless. Further, I am still in my sinful , broken life with no hope of change. No healing of memories, no forgiveness for my self-centered life. I am to be most pitied because my only life is here and now, with it's painful moments, dark days and finally death. I would have believed a lie and the result would be much worse that the disappointment of a child on discovering the' Easter Bunny' falsehood.
But there is so much evidence to back up the resurrection. The four gospels are eyewitness accounts. That would be hard to pull off if it was a lie. They were speaking to those who could have taken a 15 minute walk to the tomb and disproved their testimony if it was a lie. Surely the Jewish leaders interviewed those who spoke of seeing the resurrected Jesus and would have put a stop to those reports if they were lies. Finally, those disciples each died a martyr's death. Would they have done that for what they knew was a lie? No Way! They died for their faith in an empty tomb and the multiple appearances of the resurrected Christ.
No, my faith goes with the evidence, not contrary to it. It's not a lie. Count on it.

Sunday's Comin'

I have been thinking about funerals this week. We had two to attend in February. One was the death of my dear friend's husband. The next week it was the mother of another dear friend. Though each was expected due to a long illness, the aftermath of grief was no less painful.
I didn't have deal with my Father's death well. I avoided the funeral planning, the viewing of the body and even pretended to myself that he was still alive in the hospital. A couple of weeks later, I longed to see my Father one last time and realized I had missed my chance. I returned to the Mortuary and asked to walk through the casket room to appease my hurt, to which they graciously complied. But my grief was not eased.
Seven years later when my mother died, I wanted to handle it better. At the outset, I allowed myself to grieve. It turned out the grief was for both of my parents. I still can remember how I felt when we had to leave the cemetery. My legs would not cooperate. I couldn't imagine being torn from the last resting place of my Mother.
The loss of my mother in law eight years ago was very hard on us all. She died so suddenly . She had broken her hip and had to have a hip replacement. The surgery was late on Wednesday and she was gone by the following Monday morning. She had been like a real Mother to me. I never felt like I was just a daughter in law. She was an example of a godly witness and prayer warrior. I still miss her so much.
All these memories came as I was thinking about how the disciples felt on that Saturday so long ago. They did not know what would happen the next day. All they knew was that their dearest friend and leader was dead, along with their hopes and dreams. I have realized the last few years that that is why Good Friday services seem like a funeral. In a way, they are. They are somber and mournful. How thankful I am to know the rest of the story. As bad as Friday was, the resurrection on Sunday was glorious and forever life changing.

Good Friday

Conversation overheard:

Abby " I hate the term Good Friday"

Bev " Why?"

Abby " My Lord was hanged on a tree that day."

Bev " If you were going to be hanged on that day and He volunteered to take your place, how would you feel?"

Abby " Good!"

Bev " Have a nice day."

We all have rights

Several months ago there was a case in our town of a well known cat breeder who had 200 cats at her home. They were in sad neglect, lacking clean water, food, medical treatment, etc. She was taken to jail and banned from owning cats for 2 years. Cats have rights.
We all know who Scott Peterson is and what his punishment is for the crime of killing his wife and unborn son. But he too has rights. He has the right in jail to clean water, food three times a day and medical care if needed. You can bet that if his rights are violated, Mark Geragos will holler loud and clear.
But the news has brought to light a group of people who do not have rights- those who can't communicate or lift their hand to their mouth. Why, I keep asking myself, do they have less rights than murderers or even cats?
Yes, I am talking about Terri Schiavo. She is now at the end of her life and is being denied the very right of having water. Think about it. Have you ever been very thirsty and longed for a drink. What do you do.? You go to the sink, the water cooler, find your bottle of water,or whatever and drink. But what if you could not lift a glass to your mouth and someone had to help you? Worse yet, what if that someone whom you should be able to trust, decides it is time for you to die, and refuses to bring that drink or allow anyone else to bring it to you? I can't imagine the thirst, the agony. We so glibly say "I'm dying of thirst", but she is literally.
I would never want to die of dehydration, would you? Think about it.
Jesus said,"do to others what you would want done to you."I would never do that to you, please don't do that to me.

Vacation

Off to Yosemite tomorrow. Back soon with more stories.

What not to wear

It all began when I was getting ready for church this weekend. My youngest grandson came in as I was putting in my earrings. He gave me 'the look'. Now if you grew up in our house, you would know what 'the look' is. It is the look Jon has when I wear something that either doesn't go together, is wrinkled ( slightly) or outdated. Then too, it may just be the he hates it.
As I reeled from 'the look' Gabriel said " Are you going to wear that?" That's usually the follow up comment to 'the look'. At this point, I re-evaluated what I was wearing. The funny thing is, what I thought was fine three minutes ago, now looked awful. And yes, I changed my clothes.
In the closet I pondered a couple of things. The first was,how did Gabriel learn this family behavior- both the words and the body language? Was it genetic or environmental? Either way, it was both irritating and humiliating to be judged and found wanting by a 12 year old!
The second thing I was thinking about was that Paul talked about what to wear too. He said that we were to take off anger, wrath, malice, slander , abusive speech and lies. Then he told us to put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness , patience, forgiveness and love. Now that is a wardrobe that no one will question.

Bulbs

I was so excited today to see that my first Bearded Iris is open. It is a deep purple, so tall and stately. I can hardly wait for the rest to open. Last year was my first year and I don't remember what colors they all are. I only have a few in a half wine barrel. I filled the rest of the area with Red Chard, not to eat but because of the beauty of their stalks and foliage.
Have you ever looked at a bulb. It's brown and scruffy in appearance. Some of what we tend to call bulbs are actually a variety of corms, rhizones, or tuberous roots. They seem dead but they actually have their own cafeteria attached, subterranean organs that hold reserves of food to keep the plants alive from one growing season to another. That makes them more forgiving of casual care and attention. You put them deep in the soil and essentially forget about them until a day like today when their splendor takes your breath away.
That makes me think about my like before I met Christ. It was ugly and I was shriveled up emotionally. I was deep in depression, like the bulb buried deep in the earth. Unlike the bulb, I was empty and helpless to change. But like Spring bursting into bloom, Christ came in to transform my painful life into a thing of beauty. Slowly, but surely I feel loved and valued and free to bring joy to others, just as my Iris do for me.

Fifteen

As a follow up to yesterday, I was thinking about a song that came out a few months ago. It is titled simply, 15. The basis of the song is , what if it takes 15 times for someone to hear about God's love and grace before they understand and believe. If that is true, then I had better make a difference in sharing my faith wherever I am. I might by number 3 or 7. But what if I am number 15? I would have the joy of seeing someone find God's love and grace personal and receiving it. Again, I am not a salesman on a drive for brownie points, a trip to Hawaii , numbers for church membership or forced conversions. I am just sharing with you what is most important to me. So I hope that if I share with you, I reveal the depth of God's love and how it has changed my life. And I hope that for you, I am number 15.

Fifteen

As a follow up to yesterday, I was thinking about a song that came out a few months ago. It is titled simply, 15. The basis of the song is , what if it takes 15 times for someone to hear about God's love and grace before they understand and believe. If that is true, then I had better make a difference in sharing my faith wherever I am. I might by number 3 or 7. But what if I am number 15? I would have the joy of seeing someone find God's love and grace personal and receiving it. Again, I am not a salesman on a drive for brownie points, a trip to Hawaii , numbers for church membership or forced conversions. I am just sharing with you what is most important to me. So I hope that if I share with you, I reveal the depth of God's love and how it has changed my life. And I hope that for you, I am number 15.

Salesmen

One of the things that I really hate is buying a car. By that I mean, the process. First, the salesman advances on you are you browse the lot.
"Just looking" you say, even if it's not true. He proceeds to follow you around , give pointers on each car and try to get you into the dreaded 'little room'. You know, the one where the salesman gives the lowest price he can let the car go for and you reply that that is not a good enough deal, Then he takes your figures to his supervisor , who we all know says "NO!" He then returns with a counter offer. On and on it goes until one of your wears down and it is rarely him.
One such trip stands out in my memory. We had already been there for hours and written on piles of little papers countering each offer. The man gave his best pitch.
" Don't you want to help me win a trip to Hawaii?"
"No, I don't." Jon said." I want my keys so we can go home". Needless to say we did not purchase anything from him.
Our last purchase went so smoothly it was hard to believe. Jon did the research on the net and knew just what he wanted , including the options. We took that information to the fleet manager and she located just such a car, at the right price and we were out the door.
Some people seem to see all Christians who talk about their faith in Christ as" used car salesmen." They feel that the believer is trying to trap them into being saved like the clever car salesman traps people into buying his product. The truth is that sharing what your faith means to you is not a means of trying to sell anything. It is simply presenting the good news of God's saving love and grace and letting the hearer decide for himself. The resulting conversion is the result of the power of God's word, Holy Spirit and a free will decision, not salesmanship. So next time just relax and listen up. The rest is up to you.

Endurance

Yesterday I mentioned the Iditarod. I assumed that you knew it's an 1150 miles sled dog race from Anchorage to Nome. It is run to commemorate the original run in 1925 to bring serum to Nome where children were dying of Diphtheria. It's a sheer test of endurance, just you, your dogs and the elements. Unlike more 'extreme' sports it is very solitary and quiet as the sled swishes over the snow. You have lots of time to think and discover things about yourself.
I have a favorite musher, Dee Dee Jonrowe. She has been racing a long time and has yet to win first place though she has come close. Last year was especially grueling as she raced after battling breast cancer and the side effects of chemo!Just visiting her website recently put a lump in my throat and brought tears to my eyes.
I have often said that I could never run this for many reasons. One is that my dog Buddy would want to be in the front but would drag us off the path after a fox, a moose or whatever he smelled. (He only wants to go for the big pots of food at every rest stop.)
I think that Dee Dee can relate to Hebrews 12:1,2 where we are told to get rid of anything in our lives that weighs us down and run the race before us with endurance, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the one who has gone before us. He did it for the joy of saving us, just as the original team ran the race against time for the joy of saving the children's lives.

Heroes

Heroes, we all have them. As a young girl, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans were my heroes. I loved the way they rode, and sang and always got the bad guy. I even had a home movie of me in my "cowgirl suit" complete with hat. It is a family classic.
In High school ,Mr. Kaiser was my hero. He was my Biology teacher. He was smart and knew so many thing about animals and loved to pass that knowledge on. He was very kind too. I have to admit that my hero worship progressed into a crush. I hope that he never knew.
As an adult, I have always been awed by those people who accomplish great things against even greater odds. For instance there is a young gal in the Iditarod this year who is legally blind. Or take the teen I just read about who is a very good wrestler but has no legs.
The Bible has a list of heroes too in Hebrews 11. Noah who built that famous ark when is had never rained. Abraham who hoped in God against all hope in himself and became a father at 99. Job who trusted God rather than deny Him when he had one loss after another. Each seems to have had a crisis of faith and trusted God rather than the circumstances.
I met another hero this week, though he would not see himself as one. This man dreamed of being a missionary pilot from a young boy growing up in the Philippines where his parents were Bible translators. He trained in the US and 6 weeks into his first term fulfilling his dream he fell from a Mango tree and was paralyzed for some time. God did restore his ability to walk but other complications prevented him from piloting overseas again. But, in spite of his demolished dreams, he trusted God and has found purpose in training others to fly and go where he can not.
I was stuck again at how knowing Christ changes dreams and goals, but most of all, it changes who is the center of a life. It is not longer I, but Christ. He is my last and greatest hero.

My snail tirade

Snails - what good are they. What purpose do they have?( Escargot aside) Because we have lots of ivy, we seem to be a snail breeding ground. Until recently they have laid low, only coming out at night to travel who knows where. I would see their silvery trail the next morning.
But this week, they have been out of hand. We purchased some annuals to bring color to our yard. Though I used snail bait liberally, they have munched on the zinnias as they died. They have also dined on pansies and consumed hunks of the Iceland poppies.
On Thursday I bought a new brand of snail bait. This is no ordinary bait but one that claims to be " pet safe." That makes it twice as expensive. However I thought that the investment would pay off in the long run. HA! The snails slithered right on by it as they traveled to the moonlight banquet of zinnias.
In a perfect world, there would be no snails. Also absent would be aphids( mine have been attacking the pansies) and cutworms, the nemesis of petunias( we only use "p" as a code for them in our house) and gernaiums.
We had a perfect world once. When God's two beloved children chose their way over His, creation was cursed just like people. God tells us in Romans 8 that creation itself anxiously waits with all believers for what is to come in the not too distant future. The universe will be perfect again, no longer subjected to futility as it is now. That means to me that besides purchasing men for God on the cross, Christ also purchased the emancipation of the plant and animal world too. They will be free in eternity to co-exist as the did in the garden of Eden.
The Water of Life River will flow in the heavenly garden. The tree of life will be planted on each side of the river. The trees will bear fruit, a new kind each month. It's leaves will be for the healing of the nations.
Never again will anything be cursed. So I guess that I can endure snails and aphids and cutworms for a few more years, knowing I will have eternity in heaven, snail free.

Non-potable water

Today I left late to get my hair done. To add to the situation, there was construction on the route I had chosen. This narrowed the traffic down to single file. As we inched along, a large water truck crowed over into 'our lane'. He had the oddest sign on the back- Non potable water. As I crawled along, I tried to figure out what that meant. Not fit for a pot? Not drinkable? Perhaps both?
I had to check in my trusty dictionary when I got home. Of course you already know that my guesses were correct. Considering the way we have gone to picture signs instead of written signs, I am surprised that it did not at least say "don't drink".
God talks about non potable water too. Only in this case it is even worse. Through the prophet Jeremiah, God said that his people had turned away from Him the spring of sweet living water and had dug their own cisterns- ones incapable of holding sweet or potable water. They were thirsty in their souls and refused the best source of water, preferring to seek other ways to quench that thirst. That describes our day too. We work longer hours, run harder from dawn to dusk, and play more intensely than any other generation, but are more empty inside. Oh that we would come to God who is waiting to satisfy our emptiness.

Aggressive gardener

This morning Jon and I were in our courtyard enjoying the sun, blue sky and each other's company. He noted how invasive the ivy is. Snails can't kill it; it is drought resistant and if left to it's own devices, it can overrun the rest of our plants. We observed that this was the case in the courtyard. Jon gathered the tools of the trade. He chose the electric trimmer and gave me the clippers and designated an area for me to work in- the lavender bed.
The smell was heady as I trimmed back both the pesky ivy and the lavender branches. I was humming a tune and all seemed right with the world. Jon stopped to survey my work and dropped his trimmer and advanced on me. He grabbed the edge of the lavender plant and lifted it high in the air to reveal the long runners from the ivy intertwined with the lavender. He reached for my clippers and began hacking away. I was shocked.
" What are you doing?"
"Aggressive gardening" he replied.
"I have never heard of such a thing", I quipped.
"Well, it's the only way to deal with such a fast growing plant. It is crowding out the lavender."
" I will have to tell my brother about aggressive gardening. You know that we do not come from an aggressive family, neither in gardening or driving".
As I replayed this event later, I was reminded that Jesus talked about gardening too. He told his followers that God was the gardener and we are his garden. Often he has to be aggressive with areas of our lives that are dead wood or suckers which drain our strength. Just as Jon was trimming the lavender to give it room to grow, God trims our lives to promote growth, not destroy us. He may be aggressive but he is also tender.

The resume

I was thinking about resumes today. You, know, that short account of your career that you prepare for that new job you are looking for. In it you state who you worked for, when you worked for them and what qualifications you have from those jobs for this one. I find them boring reading unless you are like a dear friend of mine who tends to embellish the truth a little. She even includes the jobs she did on her grandfather's horse ranch. Now, her grandfather did have a ranch and a horse, but not in her lifetime!
You often tailor the resume for the position you are applying for. You include the minor bookkeeping you did if they are looking for a full charge bookkeeper. You add the supervision of the brownie troop if the job requires supervisory skills.
If I had to write one today, 5 years after my medical retirement, I would include, nurse, vet, chef, librarian, administrative assistant, liaison with Government agencies, Interior detailer, full charge bookkeeper, corresponding secretary and more.
What brought all this up was Job's resume that I read this morning in the Bible. It was written by God Himself, describing Job as blameless, upright, fearing God and shunning evil. I looked up those terms so that I could get a handle on this. Blameless and upright refer to his being a man of integrity, of high moral character. Fearing God means being awestruck by God and living in such a way as to maintain an intimate Father- child relationship. One part of that is avoiding evil.
I pondered all this and wondered how God would write my spiritual resume. Am I honest in my relationships? Do I keep short accounts with God? Do I live a life that enjoys close fellowship with God because I consciously choose to obey Him?
In the long run that seemed to me to be more important than my vocational resume. And yet, if those things are true of my life, they would make me a good employee too.

Turned on?

I carry a cell phone but seldom turn it on? It's my over reaction to those who seem to have one growing out of their ears 24/7 . You can be in a public bathroom and hear someone in the stall next to you holding a conversation. You wonder if they are talking to you! Often it is very personal information which makes it worse.
Then, there is the guy in the grocery store getting the list of what to bring home over the phone. Or the group of ladies whose look at each other when someone's purse 'rings'. You get the picture.
So when my family tries to call, nine times out of ten , my phone is off. It irritates Jon and probably others. Recently I discovered that I have voice mail but I don't check that very often either.
Then today God showed me that he was trying to reach me with an urgent message and I didn't have my 'spiritual cell phone on'. I was busy doing my thing, thinking odd thoughts, going over my to do list and not aware that he wanted to communicate with me. It was when I stopped to reflect on a verse of scripture that He got my attention. The verse said, be still and know that I am God. The rest of the passage said that he was my refuge, my strength, my very present help, my fortress. That was just what I was needing to hear, so I have vowed to keep my spiritual cell phone on 24/7. But don't expect my physical one to get the same attention. Leave a message.

What fragrance?

Today as I opened a jar of new Avon moisturizer, the fragrance reminded me of my Mother who died in 1978. Isn't amazing that the powerful computer in our brain can recall that smell after so many years. As I applied the lotion, I grew very nostalgic. I began to think about my Mom and to miss her. I drifted into melancholy as I wondered if I was a good daughter. Then I thought about my own daughters and pondered if they would miss me when I was gone? Would they have a particular fragrance they would remember me by?
The Apostle Paul says that"everywhere believers go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance of Christ from their lives. They give off a sweet scent rising to God, recognized by those who are seeking the way of salvation."
That's the fragrance I want my family to remember me by.

Being hunted down

I'm feeling quite proud of myself this morning. I took a power walk early, in spite of my post yesterday about hating exercise.It happened this way.
We were out earlier than usual with our dog this morning. Now some of you know that our dog has a' teeny' problem. Well, OK, it's a major problem. He is very territorial on the street, hating other dogs, cats, pickups, etc. When he sees one he barks, snarls, jumps up crazy, growls, etc. You get the picture.
Back to my power walk. Jon had him on the leash and we headed for our favorite park. Coming toward us were two Golden Retrievers, thankfully on a leash. Buddy went ballistic, thrashing, etc. When we got him turned to go the other way, we saw another dog and master coming from the other direction. At that point, Buddy lunged and jerked Jon's arm so hard he groaned in pain.I had to grab Buddy and head out another way ASAP. We power walked toward another park- navigating two cars and a pickup uneventfully. Almost to the park I spotted a loose dog, our worst nightmare. I back tracked full speed to the vacant lot behind our house where Buddy finally 'did his thing'.
Now we were only 1 1/2 blocks from home. No problem, or so we thought. However heading our way were the two Retrievers again. Jon tried to wave the lady around but she was oblivious. On she came, only to turn down our street. I was behind a bush, hiding, waiting to figure out what to do. Jon suggested I wait a few minutes and then proceed down our street and home. So that is what I did. We then sped down our street and in our gate, safe! We were all exhausted. That was definitely aerobic exercise, don't you think?
After I got my breath, I though about how thoughts can chase me around and around sometimes. Appearing here, showing up there, just like the dogs on our walk. In much the same way, I have to take charge and choose what I will think about, not let my mind me run around in circles. God says, think on the things that are true and noble, right and pure, lovely and admirable, excellent and praiseworthy. That will bring a peaceful,'safe' mind, like we had a peaceful dog, safe behind his gate.

Exercise, ugh!

I have a love/hate relationship to exercise. Either I become obsessive about my latest "sport" or I can't get motivated to get off the couch. When I was into jogging, I was committed to run every day, even in the dead of winter in Idaho,. I even kept a diary in which I recorded my pulse each morning before my feet hit the floor. Then I would add how long I ran that day. To show you the obsessive nature of all this, I remember crying one day because some salesman stayed too long and I lost my chance to run that day. As a side story, I fell one day and lost the diamond out of my ring.!
But that did not deter my running. But what did was my knees. The pain became too fierce and I was told that my running days were over. I have had fits and starts at exercising since then. I have tried aerobics with Richard Simmons. It's fun but I feel silly. I have a great place to walk but want someone to walk with me.
It seems that every week I read another article that says exercise is so vital. It reduces heart attacks, diabetes, and even hot flashes. The more I read, the guiltier I feel for being a couch potato.
My grandson is into pumping iron. I have some weights. Well, OK they are 3 pounders. I don't see much benefit except sore muscles in my arms Then there was the Total Gym that Debe insisted was the 'end all to end all'. All I got was pain in my lower back. It's probably just as well since I would have begun another obsessive cycle.
The Apostle Paul even talked about exercise. He said,"workouts in the gym are useful but a disciplined life in God is far more so, making you fit for both today and forever." Now that's advice that I can take without feeling guilty.

Civil war

What is it in us that makes us rebel. You see it in the eyes of a toddler who has just learned the power of the word NO!. They use it over and over, growing in understanding along the way. It comes when he realizes there are rules. Before then the toddler didn't care because he did not know he was not supposed to bite the dog's ear, spit his peas or scream in the drugstore. But once it becomes clear that Mom has a rule to obey, it becomes just as clear that he wants to disobey it. Suddenly biting the dog on the ear, spitting out his peas and screaming for lifesavers at Longs seems so desirable.
This seems to magnify when a child enters the teen years, especially male children. Even simple rules are viewed as unreasonable. They do not see any positives in restrictions. This teen's life becomes a vicious cycle from which he never appears to learn a thing.
That reminds me of a dove the lives my yard. She calls for her mate,"coo,coo".Then she flies beak first into my patio door. The crash leaves her body imprinted on the glass as she retreats. She sees the reflection of herself and dives again, head first." Pop!" She staggers, scrambling to keep control. Then she opens her eyes, sees the reflection and " slap". The sad drama is repeated.
Sadly I see this in my own family, as a teen keeps hitting every barrier, rebelling at every rule and not comprehending that he's only hurting himself. It's a civil war in his soul. He will declare " I am that captain of my fate, the master of my soul".
He does not see that God waits with open arms to bestow His grace. It's greater that all this dear one's rebellion. Receiving it makes sense of the rules. They are a yoke of love.

Log in my eye

You may remember my story about my very expensive gas . Now, if I am anything, it is cheap, so my grandson pumping in the most expensive gas was a 'burr under my saddle' so to speak. But I never mentioned it to him.
Today we met at KFC for a "date" and I had to confess to my own error. First I told him about the last time he pumped gas for me. I quickly followed that up with my own story.
It happened on Monday evening. My little car has a problem with the gas gauge so that when it hits 1/4, it then suddenly dropped to empty and then back to 1/4. I never know which is right. Monday evening I decided to play it safe and put in some gas. I used my ATM and began pumping unleaded( which was bad enough at $2.13) I looked up to see that I had hit $2.23 and that the higher priced gas was sloshing into my tank rapidly. There was no way to stop or change horses in mid stream ,as it were.
Well, of course, the point of this whole thing was what my Dad used to say" the pot calling the kettle black." Or as Jesus put it, take the log out of your own eye so that you can see to take the speck out of your brother's or grandson's eye. Lesson well learned by this Grandma.

Me, a handyman?

You can't imagine my surprise when I opened my mail on Friday to discover an invitation to be an official member of the Handymen Club of America! I have never seen myself as a weekend warrior. I am tool challenged and only know the names of a few tools. I can identify the hammer and know that there are two types of screw drivers, well three if you include a butter knife. I think that I know the difference between a wrench and a pair of pliers, but I wouldn't want to put that knowledge to the test under pressure. My former boss would never send me to bring him a tool, knowing that I would not come back with the right thing.
I wonder what the qualifications are to be a card carrying handyman? ( That sounds like a card carrying member of the NRA.) Maybe it is being a good gofer. Now, as I just told you, that is questionable when referred to me. Perhaps it had to do with being a sidewalk superintendent. To be honest, I tend to wander off if nothing exciting is happening so my supervisory skills are lacking too.
Then it hit me. It must be that I fulfill God's prerequisite in II Tim 2:15. It says that a workman who does not need to be ashamed correctly explains the Word, making it plain and simple. So I'll carry my card and smile at God's application.