The leaves are waiting

I’m writing this in winter, but there is very little snow on the ground.  Which means I can readily see the work I have waiting for me in the months to come.  I prefer to burn leaves, but I do try to be a good neighbor by only doing it once in the Fall and once in the Spring.  It gives me that really good rich, black soil that my garden, such as it is, truly loves. 

My husband used to be in charge of the yard clean up until I decided to start growing things.  Now he is content to clean bathrooms while I love being outside.   No complaints from me!  But there was one time, when trying to expedite a job that was fairly disagreeable to him, Bob decided, rather than rake the leaves into one big burn pile, he would instead create several small piles throughout the side and front yard, even connecting them by trails of leaves and

Spiritual diabetes

Let me just be clear about something—I hate exercise.  When I was in high school, I went on a Young Life overnight 50-mile bike hike, 25 miles each day.

Including hills. 

I remember the thought occurring to me that I could purposefully fall off the bike so that I could ride the rest of the way in the S.A.G. (Support And Gear) vehicle since I was certainly sagging, badly.

Certainly, it’s not the first nor the last time my innate lack of stamina has tried to forestall my resolution to physical fitness.  But as a nurse, there is a certain hypocrisy that tries to shadow its demon self if I, at the very least, don’t keep trying.  I preach it at my school, to my staff, to my

In other words…

“The moment you began praying, a command was given. And now I am here to tell you what it was, for you are very precious to God.”

Daniel 9:23  Holy Bible. New Living Translation copyright© 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation.

Poem in my pocket

Clay Watkins, I can relate to you!  Teaching science everyday to middle schoolers—yeah, that’s my world, too, only I don’t teach, I’m their nurse.  You’re a treasure, and what you do is extremely important, more than you know.   So if you’re reading this today (which is a Thursday, meaning we’re both at work….) my hat’s off to you and all you and your colleagues do!

The name of Clay’s blogsite is: https://makingthedayscount.org  and that should tell you the quality of the content!  (oh, yeah, and my disclaimer….)

POEM IN MY POCKET

Earlier today, I discovered to my dismay,
I had missed an important day.
I looked down into my screen
to discover what I had missed
National Poem in Your Pocket Day.

I didn’t have a poem in my pocket,
It – my pocket that is – was rather empty,
But I smiled, and moved forward,
One foot after the other,
And, made it count, anyway.

The mouse in the house

In terms of home ownership, the only good mouse is a dead mouse.  Unless, of course, the olfactory evidence informs you of the deceased, but you can’t locate the corresponding corpse.  There are various outcomes connected with this unfortunate demise:

The odor tends to encourage one to relocate to a different part of the house.  That’s not necessarily so bad if the size of one’s abode can accommodate such changes.  If, on the other hand, you live in an apartment, or a house full of other people, say, three or four children, that’s not quite so easy.

The only kind of mice I tolerate in my house…

And/or we try to cover up the smell with other smells.  I would also tend to opt for opening the windows for that fresh air aroma, but this also is not so convenient in December or January.  So, instead, I get a mixture of holiday cinnamon with dead rodent, which will likely not do so well on the market next Christmas.

We also might avoid having

Keep your spade handy

I AM SO SPOILED!  (Whew.  There.  I said it.) 

 May I please explain…?  

As I recall the situation, the laundry was on in the basement, but I kept hearing the sound of running water rather than the typical whirring of the washer.  You know how something in the back of your mind finds its way to your decision-making part of the brain?  My frontal lobe was telling me I should probably investigate.  Good thing, too, since upon inspection it appeared to be raining from the basement rafters!

One of the washer hoses had busted and was creating this interesting, albeit expensive, illusion because it’s high powered jet spray was aimed right at the basement ceiling.  It was one of the few times I’ve been thankful that my “basement” is more of an old-time cellar, so the unexpected hydration was no problem; however, that may have been one of the circumstances (and there have been a few) where the water in the whole house had to be turned off, due to the corrosion at the hose connections.

UGH!!  No water!!  No bathrooms, no sinks, no washing dishes…and on, and on.  I love camping, just not in my own house…oh, the things I take for granted.

The “no-water” problem was just part of the daily desert routine in the

In other words…

 

Above all, you must live as citizens of heaven, conducting yourselves in a manner worthy of the Good News about Christ.

Philippians 1:27  Bible. New Living Translation copyright© 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Who is that?

OH!  The things I can do on my new computer!!  Messing about with photos is just so much fun!

Those who know me, know this is not what I look like, (albeit most have never seen me first thing in the morning).  YAOW-ZA

I tried to find a free glamour photo editing app, but despite wasting an inordinate amount of time in doing so, I was unsuccessful.  Either, a) such an item doesn’t exist (at least for free, because I’m not going to waste money trying to look like a red carpet wannabe), and b) even if it does exist, I’ve tried to picture myself as a modern day version of Marilyn Monroe, but something gets horribly lost in the translation.  So here’s what I found:

Is history repeating itself?

(Note: I put this out around Christmas-time.  In light of current events, I’d like to put it out there again….)

I am neither a sociologist nor an historian, but the increasingly virulent terrorist events of the past decade seem to rival the ancient and infamous “Christian” Crusades of the Dark Ages.  And dark they were, but definitely not Christian.  The genocide of thousands of innocent Muslims in the name of Jesus was not only travesty but, of greater significance, heresy.  We now know (in retrospect) that this was perpetrated not merely by sincere misguided Christians ignorant of the true message of the Christ they professed to serve, but fueled by the worldly greed for land, power, and by the selfish ambition of many that had little or no interest in the God of the Bible. 

Now for the best part. History also reveals that one of the motivating factors in the cessation of these unholy Crusades was the authentic Christians themselves, those who truly knew the Son of

Give Him a break, people! (or not…)

Now here’s an interesting scene.  Jesus’ cousin, herald, and probably one of his closest friends to date, John the Baptist, has just summarily ended his sojourn in Herod’s jail by being beheaded.  Jesus, by contrast, was at the height of His popularity with the people and had crowds clamoring to get whatever they could by being around Him.  But after such a personal