Mud Pies, and other delicacies—

garden lastMy two-year-old granddaughter likes to play in the dirt.  (Of course, so does her grandmother, but I rationalize my behavior by presumptuously calling it “gardening”.)

As a doting grandma, I post this photo with her mother’s permission:

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Another recently shared video showed her working in the dirt, and when asked what she was doing, she replied, “I’m making honey!”

Now, THAT would be a bit of a creative miracle.  But then, come to think of it, our original form likewise came from the dirt.

Out of the mouths of babes…..

I read another’s comment that perhaps Continue reading “Mud Pies, and other delicacies—”

“Birth”day takes on new meaning when you’re the one birthing

IMG_20150103_172451138To begin with, I haven’t given birth to a baby for over thirty years.  That, in itself, is worthy of thanksgiving.  (And beyond that, if you are a man somewhat faint-of-heart, you might consider going to the next post on your reader…)

Not that I would trade any of it—that miracle of another human being growing within me and then passing through me into the world, and, as my husband’s mother mused when our first was born, someone who is “50% mom, 50% dad, and 100% herself”, well, that’s just unspeakably cool. 

Back in the early ‘80s, they were going with these new things called “birthing rooms”: comfortable bed in a wallpapered, home-like atmosphere, etc.  I got to use one when our first made her global debut.  For all the “coaching” classes we had, poor Bob was ultimately relegated to silence and the important task of providing me with ice chips. 

For our second, however, the birthing room was not available, and so I was taken into the old standard: an operating room atmosphere with Continue reading ““Birth”day takes on new meaning when you’re the one birthing”

The demonstrative introvert…(huh?)

neuschwanstein-castle-467116_1280I’ve decided I’m a “demonstrative introvert”.  I have no problem being up in front of people, (unless it’s a firing squad, that could be a problem), but I re-fuel myself in solitude.  My daughter says that I’m too loud when I enter a room (I’ve gotten better with practice), but my favorite time of day is the cool quiet of the morning.  I tend toward, as Mark Twain quipped, “explosions of opinion”, I laugh out loud, and I raise my hands both at football games and church, but I’m revived in quiet contemplation here at the keyboard.

So I guess the sharing of myself is a bit ambiguous.  Yet God expects it, and has created me (and all of His children) to do exactly that.  And the best place to start is at the beginning, which is another reason why I like the account of the “man born blind”—

After Jesus heals him, this poor guy is confronted Continue reading “The demonstrative introvert…(huh?)”

The Kraken (#5)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

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From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

V.  The Prophet’s Home

Far up the coast, a cottage stood, white-walled beneath the sun,

And though the boy did not know why, he broke into a run.

Some hidden force had drawn him forth and drew him faster still.

He moved by sense of atmosphere as children often will.

 

He slowed his pace once he approached that house along the shore,

Stopped, then, proceeding cautiously, peered through the open door.

This place was curious, he thought, to see the sum of it,

A dwelling marked by common things, but some things didn’t fit.

 

A garden uphill from the surf provided meager fare,

And flocks of sea gulls combed the rocks and drifted in the air.

The domicile had hearth and bed but neither trough nor stall,

Nor any horse for miles around, yet saddles on the wall.

 

Beside the hearth, an old man sat, his eyes reflecting flame,

And since the boy had stared awhile, looked up and did the same.

A studied look was on his brow. In thought, he stroked his beard.

At length, when he addressed his guest, his countenance was cheered.

 

“Please state your name. Your face is strange. Your look I think I know.”

“My name is Galen,” he replied. “I know not where to go

Or what to do. Since days ago, my heart with grief is torn,

An empty ache within my chest, not felt since I was born.

 

“My eyes still redden with the tears, distraught by what they saw.”

He next relayed the incident in trembling and in awe.

The old man listened carefully, then once the lad was through,

He nodded contemplatively and smiled as if he knew.

 

“I lead a life of solitude. I wait on man and God,

Complaining not and wanting not, nor should I find it odd

That, of the great men of the earth, a lad should come to me.

Come in. Find solace by my fire, and learn the prophecy.

 

“This curse from undersea proves such a complicated test.

A simple and courageous mind will learn to solve it best.

With love denied, yet naught to lose, and fierceness in his heart,

A boy will grow into a man to learn the sacred art.

 

“All tangled problems must trace back through branches to their source.

Their tentacles join but one head. There concentrate your force.

Then morbid love revives again beneath the warming sun.

Make strong your arms, and count the cost to be the chosen one.

 

“Tomorrow, homeward make your way. Obey your father’s will.

Despise no task. Explore each path that finds your feet until

You come to me by his own leave with arms and pockets full

That I might try the character abiding in your skull.”

 TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY (dot, dot, dot!!)

Doggy rehab

picmonkey dogThe first dogs we adopted for our young family were two “rescued” Pembroke corgis that our vet had received from someone else.  We brought home Peanut, and within a few days we also acquired her sister, Popcorn.  (Okay, so we didn’t name them.)

Peanut settled in quite well to family life; Popcorn was a different matter.  She made it quite clear, in her unique doggy way, that she was not pleased with humans, period.  Her defiant demeanor was manifested in several ways, not the least of which was a little brown pile on top of our bed (and that was a LONG way for a corgi to jump!)  She would slink away to hide by herself, and even seemed to adversely influence our otherwise congenial Peanut. 

She was angry, untrusting, and had clearly been hurt in the past.  Even though she was now in a loving home, she just could not conceive the Continue reading “Doggy rehab”

Compassionate haircut

IMG_20150103_172451138I think it’s not an uncommon scenario, a young mother dressing up her precious little ones in the new clothes from Grandma for a family photo only to have the 3-year old get ahold of mommy’s lipstick and use it to “paint” his little 1-year old sister.  On the way.  The baby’s face is sufficiently cleaned off, and miraculously (mercifully) none of the red “paint” got on the dress…only to have the other “end” of the situation explode, uncontainably. 

One of my personal favorite recollections is Bob coming into the room where I was napping before going to work nightshift at the hospital one evening.  He enters with this question, “Honey, do you love your middle daughter??”

Great way to wake up.

Robin had decided to give her little sister a haircut.  And I willingly leave Continue reading “Compassionate haircut”

This Old House, the continuing saga…

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Our house is a hybrid of the do-it-yourself series, This Old House, and the hilarious movie from the 1980’s, The Money Pit.  Never mind that my kitchen is probably from the 1950’s; we are evidently concentrating on the outside for the time being.  At this writing, our fairly large free-standing garage is being resided to match the main house we re-sided not too long ago.  A few months ago we had a friend put in a brand new concrete front walk, which necessarily included two sets of steps (we live on a small slope.)  He’ll be out later for the back steps and the driveway.

Try cooking a Thanksgiving dinner in a 1950’s kitchen.  At least I Continue reading “This Old House, the continuing saga…”

Harmony, in any language.

wood 2One of Bob’s brothers was a army paratrooper out of Fort Bragg.  He then went on to get his M.Div. from Fuller in California.  So somewhere along the way he was dubbed “the warrior priest”.  (We still have a couple of his army jackets—your tax dollars at work…)

Evidently, English is not an easy second language to learn, but Richie mentioned how difficult it was to learn Greek and Hebrew.  I can only imagine the hours he spent at a desk pouring over books and notes.  It had to be an intentional positioning of his body and mind to make sense of all those squiggly marks!

So I have an increased respect for those who delve into the classic languages, and those who have sacrificed much more than time to bring us the Bible in our own tongue.  Through the years, even I have picked up a few words here and there. I have a sweetnecklace gold necklace that Bob’s mom brought back to me from a visit to Israel that is my name in Hebrew.  (At least, that’s what she was told; for all I know it could say “go home, Yankee pig”, but that’s beside the point.)  Years ago, I Continue reading “Harmony, in any language.”

Just an encouragement~~

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Ever feel like you can never get on top of a problem? Here it is again, rearing its ugly and persistent head, and the thought comes,

“You’ll never win.”

Well, then, you’re in R-E-A-L-L-Y good company. 

Once again, God’s people were being assailed by a foreign entity, this time Assyria (you could substitute any number of names on the evil entity, like anger, depression, loneliness, whatever, they all fit quite well into the same storyline.)

This time, the enemy used a few interesting tactics worth looking at; thankfully, we get to listen in:

“Listen to this message from the great king of Assyria! This is what the king says: Don’t let Hezekiah deceive you. He will never be able to rescue you.  Don’t let him fool you into trusting in the Lord by saying, ‘The Lord will surely rescue us. This city will never fall into the hands of the Assyrian king!’

“Don’t listen to Hezekiah! These are the terms the king of Assyria is offering: Make peace with me—open the gates and come out. Then each of you can continue eating from your own grapevine and fig tree and drinking from your own well. Then I will arrange to take you to another land like this one—a land of grain and new wine, bread and vineyards.

“Don’t let Hezekiah mislead you by saying, ‘The Lord will rescue us!’ Have the gods of any other nations ever saved their people from the king of Assyria? What happened to the gods of Hamath and Arpad? And what about the gods of Sepharvaim? Did any god rescue Samaria from my power?  What god of any nation has ever been able to save its people from my power? So what makes you think that the Lord can rescue Jerusalem from me?”

Warfare always involves strategy.  Here, the enemy—

  1. Spoke in the language of the people (Satan knows just how to communicate his message to us most effectively, sometimes even using those close to us.)
  2. Offers what seems to be a better option than what God clearly wants, (a neatly disguised slant on the serpent’s original “hath God truly said?” from back in the Garden…)
  3. Comparisons (generally a slippery slope)
  4. Mixes truth with misunderstanding, misinterpretation, or outright lies.

I rather like the king’s initial response:

But the people were silent and did not utter a word because Hezekiah had commanded them, ‘Do not answer him.’”

Lots more could be/has been said about our counter-strategy, but I’ll end instead with this encouragement~~

Isaiah 36: 13-21  Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.