When we left Beaufort, S.C.,  there were four different shipments.  One to storage, one to Pryor, one to Viet Nam, and one for valuables.  I told the movers not to touch anything in the dining room. I had stacked all the stuff that  the five us would need after Ken's change of command ceremony to take with us when we left for Oklahoma.  All of our clothes, suitcases, etc.  Enough to last a couple of weeks.  I had been packing for weeks and was organized.  Completely organized.

      You know what happened.  I got back from town (in shorts and halter) and they had packed it all on the truck and left.  We had nothing.  It was all gone.  The house was empty.  I got the kids from school and sent them up and down the street begging for hand-me-downs to wear to the change of command ceremony.  They came back looking presentable so I drove back to town to buy a dress, shoes, jewelry, hose, etc. etc., to wear to a luncheon in my honor--as the Commanding Officer's wife.

     Ken came home to get us to go to the ceremony and he was wearing "Blues."  Looking really good.  Sword, medals, and as the Marines would put it:  Dress blues, tennis shoes, and a light coat of oil.  "Where are my clothes to change into after this ceremony is over," he asked.
       I told him.  "On a truck somewhere headed west."
      "You have to be kidding," he said.
      "Nope, what you have on is all there is.  Sorry, but we'll worry about that later."

      Immediately after the ceremony, we all piled into the car and headed west.  Ken in full uniform.  And the rest of us in what we had on.  We had been married ten years.  It seemed normal.  Nothing ever went right.  One more day in the life of the military.

      By the time we got to Georgia, we were all exhausted.  And there were no rooms anywhere.  A federal highway patrol convention had taken every room for a hundred miles around......

Continued...

 

There are those who try to debunk the resurrection.  They give two suppositions

One: Christ didn't really die.  However, many people were there when actually died.  The Roman soldiers were charged with taking Him off the cross when He was dead.  And since it was approaching the Sabbath, they wanted to hurry it up.  So they checked the two men hanging on either side of Jesus and broke their legs to hurry the process up.  But when they came to Jesus, he was already dead.  However, just to be absolutely sure, one of the soldiers stabbed Him in the side.  Water and blood gushed out--He was dead.  So since he was already dead, they didn't need to break Jesus' legs.  All of this is recorded by different people who were there.  Not one account, but several.

Two:  Someone stole the body.  This is the weakest of the two suppositions for several reasons.  Pilot charged the Roman "watch" with guarding the tomb because Jesus had said He would rise on the third day--and it was critical that this not happen.  They were posted specifically so that the "body theft" could not happen.  Losing the body of Jesus was punishable by death for the Roman soldier.

Ken always said that Roman soldiers on watch were equatable to Marine sentries.  They would never sleep.  That was the reason there was a "watch."  Pilot told them to stay there three days.  It wasn't one man.  It was many men guarding against theft.  Not one sentry, but an entire "watch."

But suppose the entire cadre of Roman soldiers didn't do their job--which is not believable--and a body snatcher slipped in.  Why would some thief stop to unwind all the burial wrappings and leave them in the tomb before taking the body.  With the guards outside.  It makes no sense.  If they were going to steal the body, they would have taken Him in the wrappings.  They would not have wasted twenty or thirty minutes unwrapping Him and dragging him out in front of the soldiers charged with guarding the tomb.

Jesus then appeared after death to many people.  It is a fact.  He is risen.  He is risen indeed.

When God breathed into Adam a living soul, Adam was complete.  In God's image.  I have often wondered about that.  Was His image spiritual, or physical?  What does it mean?

I don't think that it was physical, although in Genesis 3:8a, it says: "And they heard the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day..." So I guess God can be physical and walk around if He wants to.

But I think "in His image" is probably that he gave us the ability to think.  To plan.  To communicate.  To love.  I can't think of a single reason why God would make man other than for fellowship.  We have nothing to give Him that He doesn't already have--except for our free will.  We get to choose.  He can't make us love Him.  We get to decide.

Humans need each other.  We get really lonely if no one cares about us.  We want to be chosen by someone.  We want to be loved.   I think God is like that.  He desires our love so he freely gave us His love first. I think that must be what it means to be created in His image.  The ability to give love.

The thing about Ken that won my heart was that he wanted me to be his wife bad enough that he didn't give up trying.  I said "No" week after week after week.  But he just kept flying from Pensacola, Florida to Pryor, Oklahoma every weekend, buzzing the town, breaking the sound barrier, (yes, it was illegal but he did it anyway) and trying to convince me to marry him.  The entire town knew his intentions and my rejections.  It didn't deter him.  He just wouldn't give up.

It's hard to resist love.  I am so glad I didn't.  I would have missed the love of my life.

God loves us.  But He lets us choose.   Choose Him.  You won't ever be sorry.

There have been moments in my life when I was truly frightened.  In 1957, we moved to Camp Pendleton, California.  We were living paycheck to paycheck--and not doing it very well.  My old record books have every entry for every dime we spent for two years:  25 cents--toothpaste.  15 cents--shoe polish.  Every necessity that we bought was entered in the book.  Down to the last penny.

Before we were married, Ken had bought a 1955 Jaguar XK--something or other.  New.  Robin egg blue.  Two seat convertible.  Of course we couldn't afford it.  So a year later,  he sold it and bought an old, old piece of junk.  (The price a young bachelor pays for getting married?)  It ran.  That's about all.

For a year and a half, I had saved pennies.  I wanted a picture for our bare walls.  So we drove to San Diego.  Ken, me and our new daughter.  After two years I was going to buy something we didn't really need.  It was a first.  I was excited.

He let me out at the top of a hill in front of a department store, and said he would drive around the block and be back in a few minutes.  I bought the picture--Van Gogh's "Sunflowers"--and went back out on the street to wait.  But Ken didn't come back.  There I was, standing on the corner, in a strange city.  I didn't know a single person in California.  No money, no friends, no family.  And every few minutes some sailor would try to pick me up.  I just kept standing there.  Waiting.  In a panic.  I didn't know what to do, so I began to cry.  I was scared. Things were different back then.  No cell phones

I waited for three hours before he finally showed up--driving a strange car.  Come to find out, the clunker had given up the ghost after he let me out, and Ken had rolled it down the the hill for a mile or so, and turned into a used car lot.  He called my dad, asked him to find a bank that would give him a loan, and wire the money.  Which my dad did.  Ken bought a car, transferred the baby, and came back to get me three hours late.  "Hop in," he said.  Calm.  Like this happened every day.  Marines.  God love them. 

I never see a picture of Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" that doesn't remind me of that day.    




 

I voted for Eisenhower when I turned 18.  Every one in my family were Democrats, so I didn't tell anyone.  Especially my Grandmother--I think she would have disowned me.

Every election since then, I have voted.  Sometimes Democrat, sometimes Republican, and once, Independant.  Perot's V.P. running mate played football with Ken when they were in flight school.  Vice Adm. James B. Stockdale, a highly decorated Navy pilot who inspired fellow prisoners of war in North Vietnam.  (Senior prisoner of war.)   I don't even remember who the other choices were.

There are lots of reasons to vote "this way" or "that way."  Unless you are a staunch pol.  Which I don't seem to be--due to what is wrong in both parties.  They both make me mad.  And after 60 years of presidents, I am disappointed with them all.  I want statesmen--and wonder where they are.

I voted for Carter, who was ineffective as a President (but highly effective as an ambassador),  because my dad did.  Daddy said that he had promised God that if a Christian ran, he would vote for him.   I figured that if he was good enough for my dad, he was good enough for me.

I voted for John McCain because Ken knew him and was going to vote for him.

I sound wishy-washy.  I'm not.  I have just lost faith in politics.  In the last sixty years, since I voted at the age of 18, I have yet to see much that cheers me up.  Or causes me to believe in any of them.

If someone would say that they absolutely would balance the budget, I would vote for them.  But I wouldn't really believe that they would do it.

I think it is time to pray for our country.   All of us want to vote right.  We need the help of God.  He alone is in control anyway.   I think I will stop watching T.V.  It's depressing.   

The man who helps me in my yard has really put the work in.  I do what I can--which isn't much--but keeps my hands dirty.  Which makes me happy.  The temperature dropped to 28 degrees the other night, but I got everything covered and didn't lose anything.

I have never planted annuals, but this year I am putting some in.  I just hate doing work that doesn't come back next year--but if you want color through the summer, you have to plant annuals.  And do it again next year.  And the next...etc.  Forever.

It must be Easter because the lilies are coming up.  They were 9 dollars a pot last year, but when they lost their flowers, I told the manager of the flower company that I would take all of them he had left  if he would sell them to me for a dollar a pot.  He said that would be fine.  Sold me all of them.  Fifty or so.  I gave some of them to Ann and Becky.  I hope some of them bloom this year.

God invented flowers to give us joy.  "And why take ye thought for raiment?  Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin.  And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."  Matthew 6:28

God invented color to make us happy.  I planted flowers that were yellow, dark purple, peach, pink, white, and lavender.  I'll do red next week.

Isn't God good!!!

(He invented music, too.  I'm going to choir tomorrow.  It is slowly getting better.)
 

When we become Christians, we take responsibility for our behavior by the strength of God's Spirit.

There are four kinds of behavior.
1.  Reflex behavior.  You can't control these.  If a doctor taps your knee with a rubber hammer, your leg will move.   You have no control over it.
2.  Drives.  These behaviors insure the survival of the species.  We can control them to a point, but they are always there; they fight against us for resolution.  Hunger, thirst, sex.
3.  Instincts.  The definition is:  "A genetically transferred pattern of behavior that, when stimulated, will present itself full blown.  It is not learned, and occurs without exception in the species."  An example: the Monarch butterfly.  The male and female fly North from S. America, lay eggs and die.  The young hatch, and fly back to the exact place in S. America that their parents were from, without ever having been there.  Sea turtles do the same thing.
4.  Controlled behavior.  All other behaviors are ones that we control.  We want to excuse ourselves by saying that we were born that way.  We can't help ourselves.  But that isn't true.  We do what we choose to do.  We can control ourselves.

Scientifically, humans have no instincts.  You may think you know one, but look at the definition: "Occurs without exception."  But, as a  Christian, I think that there is one.  Only humans look for something outside of themselves.  They search for God.  They make idols.  A Tiki.  A totem.  They worship the sun, the moon, the stars, cows (in India), fire, rain, etc. 

Personally, I believe we have one instinct.  When God created man, He created a place within man that yearns for Him.  "He breathed into Adam a living soul."  The breath, Spirit, of God took up residence in Adam.  But man ruined it, and since that time we are born "dead" in trespasses and sin.  Empty. (Ephesians 2:1)  And that empty place within us searches for fulfillment.  For meaning.  But the only thing that will satisfy your longing is God.  "Christ in you, the hope of glory."  Filling up the empty place.

You can't take one verse out of the Bible and make a religion out of it.  (Some denominations do this.)  The Bible wasn't written in "verses" any way.  It is a whole.  Each book is entire, not separated into verses and chapters.  You will miss the point if you don't read each book as it was written.

For instance, some verses--often quoted--will leave you only half informed:  John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believes on him shall be saved."  That's true.  But that is just part of the story.  What does believing involve?

James 2: 19 "You believe that there is one God; you do well: the devils also believe, and tremble."  So even the devil believes in God.  It isn't enough; there is more.

Luke quoted Jesus:  Luke 13:5 " I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish."
Over and over the Bible--when you read entire passages--it tells us that we must repent of our sins.

Jesus said: "...the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye and believe the gospel." Mark 1:15

And then there is the resurrection.  Paul said we need to believe that Jesus was raised from the dead.  "...if you will confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and shall believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead, you will be saved." Romans 10:9

You can't take one verse and make your religion out of it.  When you read it all, you find that Jesus was God.  He died as a sacrifice for our sins.  And was raised from the dead.  We must believe that.  We must repent.  Change our lives through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

"...Christ in you, the hope of glory."  Colossians 1:27b  He takes up residence in our body.  We become His children.






 

It's interesting what ordinary people can accomplish.  Peter was one of those ordinary persons.  He spent three years following Jesus, listening to him, watching him perform miracles, but...Peter didn't get much out of it.  It had been interesting, but when Jesus died, Peter went back to fishing.

When push came to shove, when Jesus was taken before the accusers, Peter had said, "I don't know the man," not once but three times.   Peter was not changed.  He had been in on Jesus minestry; he was part of the Jesus crowd; but he was still just Peter.  A fisherman.  Weak.  Afraid.

But three things happened that changed his life.  First, Christ appeared to him after the crucifixion--risen from the dead.  Jesus was alive!!  Second, Jesus asked him, "Peter, do you love me?"  Not once, but three times--for each of the times Peter had denied Jesus.  Peter was given an opportunity to confess, and be forgiven.  And third, 50 days after the crucifixion,  the Holy Spirit was given to those in the upper room who had been waiting on this promise from Jesus.  To Peter.

1. A risen Christ.  2.  A forgiven life.  3.  The indwelling Spirit of God.

And Peter left the upper room and went to the city center where he began to speak to thousands and thousands who had gathered there to find out what was going on.  He told them about Jesus.  Peter quoted scripture and prophecy.  He not only said, "Yes, I knew him," but that Jesus was risen and was the Messiah and King of the Jews.  He told them that they had crucified Jesus.  That their only hope was to repent.  Peter was fearless.  He was a changed man.

People were stirred.  The Bible says, "...pricked in their hearts..., and 3000 of them believed and were saved.  The first church.  And a Christian revolution broke out that changed the world.

Ordinary man.  Extraordinary courage.  Spirit filled message.  God doesn't have a plan "B."  You and I are it.  All we have to do is tell others about a risen Christ, a forgiven life and the Spirit of God.

Now that everything is blooming, and the bulbs are up, of course, being Oklahoma, it's going to freeze this weekend.  That's okay.  I figured that would happen when I put the tomatoes in the ground.  But being a true believer, I believed it just might not happen.  And it is better to plant tomatoes twice with hope, than wait until it is warm enough to do it only once.

I will just plant some more.

At choir today, I moved from the alto section to the tenor section.  I have a voice that can go either way, but the low notes are easier.  It was a lot more fun because I was able to sing what was written.  I hadn't been able to reach many of the high alto notes.  But I can hit all the tenor notes.  The director said his wife was a tenor as well.  So maybe it isn't that unusual for a woman to sing tenor.

Being in the choir isn't going to be all that bad.  Maybe I will learn to enjoy it.  My attitude is improving.  I don't know if my voice is or not.

God gave us harmony.  Music.  And color.  And dogs.  I think my dog Squig is the most wonderful friend.  He loves me.  I love him.  He follows me around.  He comes when I call.  He never complains.  The only thing I don't understand is why God gave dogs such a short life span.  Just when we are totally in love with our dog, he begins to fail.  Growing old.  It makes me sad.

Love is sad.  But wonderful.  When you love someone, you know that someday, one of you is going to end up with a broken heart.  I don't like to see sadness in the ones I love.  I also don't like being the one left behind.

But how much better than to never have loved at all.  

 

My mom wanted a sweet little girl that loved pretty dresses and hair bows.  She wanted someone who would hold her hand and snuggle up in her lap to read a story.  Instead, she got me.  I was a mystery to her.  She didn't understand why I would rather play in the rain ditches catching crawdads and getting all muddy than play with "my dolls."  (I loved bugs, and snakes and worms and spiders.)

I say, "My dolls," when really they were her dolls.  Every year at Christmas, she would buy me a doll.  Sad.  She couldn't really afford to do that, and I didn't want them.  She asked me once what I wanted for Christmas.  "I want an erector set," I told her.  I got another doll.  My brother got the erector set.  My mom thought I would really want the doll she never got when she was growing up.

She never gave up.  I think she thought that if she was persistent that maybe I would turn into a feminine little girl and give up my tom-boy ways.  I never did.  And she never figured me out.  She had grown up in the middle of five children and her mother didn't pay much attention to her--Gran was too busy milking cows, canning beans and trying to hold life and limb together back in l920.

My mom tried to give me what she had missed.  What she had hoped for and wanted.  And I was just a kid that had no clue.  She was as big a mystery to me as I was to her.

Once, I caught a crawdad 'mama' that had a bunch of eggs hanging on to her tail, and put her under the refrigerator in the water drip pan. (You would have to be as old as me to know about a refrigerator drip pan.)  I just wanted to keep it, so I didn't tell mama.  The eggs hatched and the next morning there were hundreds of little crawdads crawling around on the kitchen floor.  My mom wasn't pleased.  I was ecstatic.   She handed me a broom, but I picked them up one by one.

I had a great mom.  She tried really hard.  I am who I am because of her.  I owe her a lot--even though we never understood each other.  But I wore the dresses she sewed for me.  Frilly ones.

Back in the 1940's, before we had television, churches would have revivals that lasted every night for two weeks.  A visiting evangelist would come, preach every evening, and everyone would come to the meetings.  This happened twice a year.

TV changed all that.  People didn't want to miss their shows.  Two weeks were shortened to one week.  Twice a year was changed to once a year.  One week was shortened to a three day weekend.  Later shortened to a visiting preacher on an occasional Sunday.  And since then, well, I haven't heard of a church having a revival at all in a long, long time.

We are a people that have to be entertained.  And whatever the newest entertainment is--that's what we want.  The Circus.  Drama.  Music.  Happy Days.  Downton Abbey.  (Which I loved.)

And little by little the interaction between people who are searching for the voice of God is squeezed down into sound bites.  Because we have filled up our time with busy activity and no priorities.  Ken used to say, "People are afraid of silence."  I think he was right.

Join a group who is studying scripture.  Don't stay ignorant of the plan that God has for you.   When you do this, you will find a richness in your life that entertainment can't provide.  Fuel for your brain.
Churches of all denominations are moving toward "small group" study.  Find one.  It could change your life.  It changed mine.

I joined a small group in 1963 taught by a friend--whose husband later retired from the Marines to go work as Billy Graham's personal assistant.  Betty and Henry Holley.  Ken and I both learned a lot from them and treasured their friendship and teaching through the years.

Just think, you might end up one step removed from someone like Billy Graham.  What a blessing.       

I said something--in one of my past 840 posts--that I thought was pretty profound.  However, I don't think anyone but me thought so.

I said, "You are what you eat."  (There are ten pounds more of me since Thanksgiving.  What I ate became the body I now live in.)

And I added, "You are what you do and say."  Everyone who knows me only knows that part of me that results in actions, or in spoken or written words.  That is who I am to the world.

But the part that I thought was pretty profound was when I wrote:  "You are not what you think.  Thoughts are nothing but unfulfilled dreams."  Not all of you agreed.

 I concede that your thoughts may lead you to do something good, or bad--or they may change the way you process your behavior, or they may even comfort you.  But as long as they stay in your head and don't produce anything, as far as the world is concerned, they don't exist, and neither do you. 

My thoughts lead me to write.  But without the writing, the thoughts are stagnant.  When I am gone, my thoughts are gone as well.  But the words that I have written will continue to be read by people I have never met.  Inside my head, my thoughts don't do anyone any good.

I do agree that you can learn--inside your head.  You can think.  And what you think about what you learn has the ability to change you.  But knowledge means nothing without action.  You are not what you "think" until you do something.  You are living inside a head that is full of unfulfilled dreams.

Thoughts are just intentions waiting to be put into action.  Do something.  Something worthwhile.  Something useful.  Something good.  Something helpful.  It becomes who you are. 

My niece, Cheryl, said I should tell you about my adventures with the four dogs--she thought it was funny.  Three of them went home yesterday.  It's just me and Squig now.

Everything would have been fine if it hadn't rained.  It turned my back yard into a mud bath.  So every time I let the four of them out, as I told you the other day, there were sixteen feet to clean when they came in.  Which I could have managed with the three Schnauzers, but the fourth dog was a big border collie (mix) named Sadie who wanted to lick my face every time she came in the house. 

Which meant that I was covered in mud as well.  She is almost as big as I am--which put me on my rear end on the floor where all four of them could kiss me, walk on me, and generally spread mud over everything.  

After a couple of times, I started letting the little dogs in one at a time.  Cleaning that one up and going back for the next one.  But even when I had all three of them cleaned up, there was still Sadie.  Way too big for me to pick up.

Solution:  I started putting them all in the car every morning, and driving them over to Becky's house to let them out.  And noon.  And evening.  She has grass--and tiled floors.  My house is carpet.

Four dogs in a car.  Not so good.  Three times every day, worse.  And all of them had to be on leashes or they would have run.  Letting them out of the car one at a time on a leash--difficult.  Getting them back in the car--worse.

But we needed rain.  So I guess it was a small price to pay.  

Fridays keep rolling around.  I pace my week by what I write.  I have found that I love to write.  I am much more organized in my thinking than when I talk.  And I can edit!!!  How I wish I could edit out some of the things I have spoken with my mouth.  I doubt that any of you out there have ever said something that you wish you could take back.

 James 3:5  "...the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. ... In the
same way, the tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches. ...

James 3:8 "...but no human being can tame the tongue. It is... restless ... "

Proverbs 15:4  "The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.
Gentle words are a tree of life; a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit."

Let's see, those verses say the tongue is boastful, grandiose, restless, perverse, and deceitful.  And the verses give us the remedy:  Gentle words, and a soothing words.

Now that Ken is gone, I find myself remembering things that I said that I regret.  And it is too late to offer an apology.  I know he loved me anyway, but I could have been kinder with my words.

If you still have your spouse, think about this:  What we say in anger hurts.  And most often, it doesn't help at all.  It cuts like a knife.  It causes a permanent scar.

I respond to praise a lot better than I respond to criticism.  Because I want more praise.  If you change what you do, you will get a different response from the other person.  The only person in the world that you can change is yourself.  Basically what I am saying is, "Keep your mouth shut more often." 

10:00 AM, March 9, 2016.  I planted lettuce and parsley.   It will probably freeze--this is Oklahoma--but  I don't care.  I'll just plant it again.  John, my gardener, is cleaning out the weeds in the flower beds today.  He planted my peonies and astilbe, and mulched the azaleas that he put in last week.  And the filters in the Koi pond had to be cleaned again.

It is hard to come to the place that I have to admit that I can't do it all any more.  But Ken saw to it that I wouldn't have to worry about paying for service "when the time came."  He was a planner.  I can't pay for everything I want to do, but there is enough to help me along. 

And the time has come.  I got down on the patio to pull weeds on Monday, and had to yell at John to come help me get up.  Pitiful.  I truly don't know who this old woman is.  I do know that there is a girl inside yelling at her.  Yelling to get out.

I have been dog-sitting all week for some of my friends.  Counting Squig, I have four of them.  And of course, for the first time in months, it rained--for which I am very grateful--but every time I let them out, there are sixteen muddy feet that I have to clean when they come in.

Squig doesn't particularly like the others getting in my lap.  It is probably good for him to have to share.  No, he isn't spoiled!!!!

Scott always came over and planted things for me in the spring.  I miss that.  He's the only member of my family that really loves gardening besides me.  He has already planted his garden.

The first lettuce I pick will have cost me over $300.00.  It better be good.  You sure don't do this to save money when you live in the city.  Maybe if I dollar average it will pay off in fifty years.

I am amazed at all the "Voo-doo" on facebook.  The words "Energy, spiritualism, finding your inner self, magnitism, the supreme woman, etc. etc. etc."  It is all nonsense.  Sorry if you are offended.   I want to hear a real voice.  I want to read a real account of a real event.  I want real people.

Feelings are dangerous.  They lead you down paths you wish you had never taken.  And as I said a week or so ago when I was discussing different kinds of Proof, feelings are non-transferable.  And more importantly, they prove nothing.

I lived with Ken for 57 years.  I made a commitment, took a vow and never broke it.  I have a piece of paper that says that on August 18, 1956, that we were married.  I can touch it.  It is real.

Although the feelings were intense, I loved him and he loved me, that is not what kept us glued together.  Some days, there were not many feelings at all.  Just blah days that we had to get through.   Work to do.  Meetings to attend.  Wash.  Dishes.  Kids.  School events.  Long separations in the military.  Loneliness.

 It wasn't "feeling" that was important enough to make it work, it was commitment.  That inner quality within you that recognizes that you are someone who takes life more seriously than "feeling happy every moment of your life."

57 years is a long time.  I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  I thank God for Ken.  I have never known a better man.  He was exceptional.  He was the love of my life.  I was so proud to be his wife.  Today I am "feeling" sad.  I miss him.  But that feeling will ease.  I will get on with it.  I will do my work.  How I feel will not dictate what I do.

I will stay committed to who I am.  I am God's child.  I carry His name.

In life, you have two things that have to be balanced.  Time, and income.  You work for money, and it takes your time.  The more time you work, the more money you make.  And the less time you have to do other things.

The question is, "How much money is enough?"  I have watched people all my life that don't know the answer to that question.  And don't know why they are working so many hours.  And have so little time for their families and themselves.

The old saying, "Keeping up with the Joneses," dates back forever.  Because it describes human nature.  We don't know we want something until someone else gets one, and then we have to have one, too.  Why?  Because we want to look and feel like everybody else.  No logical reason to spend money except that "we saw it, and we want it."  That goes for shopping as well.  Don't go in a store and you won't find something you can't live without.   Same at the grocery store.  Make a list and you won't give in to impulse buying.

And basically, we have given our time away--the time it took to make the money to buy the thing we wanted--for nothing.  Most of the time, we will discard what we buy within the year.  How many things do you have from the first five years of marriage?  The first 10?

Becky says, "I would spend my money on an experience before I would spend it on stuff.  You can keep an experience forever."

Experiences live in our hearts.  And especially in the hearts of our children.  Give your child, your grandchild, your time.  It is worth much more than the current gadget.

There is nothing prettier in the spring that the Bradford Pear trees.  They literally burst into bloom and look like white ice cream cones.  They are in full bloom right now and breathtaking.

But they are weak trees and can't stand up to the Oklahoma winds.  They have lots and lots of branches, and when the wind blows, they split.  Sometimes they are totally destroyed.  You seldom see one that doesn't have a scar down the trunk.

But people keep planting them because of their size and beauty.  They never get very big--probably because they keep losing their limbs.

The red-buds are blooming now also.  This is the earliest I have seen a red-bud bloom in Oklahoma.  They usually bloom at the end of March--on my birthday.  That's how I remember.  Once, when Jon (youngest child) lived in Houston, he called me the first week in March and said, "Happy Birthday, Mom."

"It's not my birthday," I told him.  "Well," he said, "The red-buds are blooming."   "That's because you are in South Texas," I told him.  "But I appreciate the thought anyway."

When I lived near Washington D.C., we could enjoy the cherry blossoms at this time of year.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven...a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted..." Ecclesiastes 1, 2b

God is giving us an early Spring.  I am so thankful.  I can't wait to get my hands in the dirt.

Well I did it.  I didn't want to, but decided it was a good way to meet people.  I went to "senior" choir.  I really doubt that you could call it a choir.  Ten people.  One bass.  One tenor.  Two alto's--I just doubled that section by my attendance.  And six sopranos.

I hadn't sung in a choir since I was eighteen years old.  Sixty years ago.  I always played the piano for the choir.  I found that my range of notes had shrunk considerably.  I think I now am really a tenor.  Oh well, I'm going to try it for awhile and see what happens. 

Yes, I admit, I am not doing it for the glory of God.  I'm doing it to meet Christian people.  Not everything has to be about service to Him.  Does it?  Maybe my attitude will change.  If God is glorified, I think it will be a byproduct--because right now, my voice squeaks.

On the other hand, He says, "... Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make
a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!"  Psalms 95:2

I can do two parts of that verse well.  I can thank Him.   And I can praise Him.  I guess I can do the third part, too.  Make a noise.  It just isn't joyful yet.  I'm going to work on that.

We do things every day that we don't want to do.  Exercise.  Eat right.  etc. etc.  Maybe in the long run, the things we don't want to do--but do anyway--are the things that make us better people.  Maybe in the doing of those things, we find that they get easier. 

Today, I am going to file paper.  I have been working on it little by little for weeks.  I have shredded two containers of it.  It is done.  Now all I have to do is put it away so that I can find things when I need them.  It was a huge task.  And I didn't want to do it.  But I plodded along and finally, finally, am at the end of it.  I don't think it made me a better person.  But it did make me feel better.

I am obsessing.  When I bought this house, I did carpets, tile, paint, appliances and counter tops.  It was almost a year ago.  I stayed in Pryor while all of this was going on.  But I later moved in the middle of everything and didn't get all of the repairs done.

Facing more renovation was daunting, so I didn't do the master bath.  I wanted to do the yard, which was in really bad shape.  So I ignored the bath, and worked in the yard.  Which I love to do.  But this last two weeks, I keep thinking about the master bath.  Once something gets in my mind, I worry it to death--which is an indication of my personality.

I do the same thing with teaching.  Ideas.  Once I start thinking about something, I can't let it go.  And then when I go to bed, I can't go to sleep.  I have bees in my brain.

So, I probably will start the repairs on the chipped up master bath.  It is the only thing I didn't do, so when it is done,  I can put it all this renovation behind me.  However, I want to pull a Scarlett and think about that tomorrow.

When Jesus was giving us the Sermon on the Mount, he said:  "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.  Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."  Matthew 6:34 

 Or put another way:  One day's trouble is enough for one day.   So I think I will work in my garden.

Some people talk about people.  That is what they like to discuss.  Some of those people are just nosy.  They want to be the first person to know what is going on in everyone's life.  I sometimes wonder if they have a life of their own.

Not to say that we shouldn't be interested in others.  But in a good way.  Never to hurt, or to spread gossip, or speculation.

Some people talk about things.  Their new car.  Someone's new dress, or shoes, or jewelry.  Every now and then when I get busy on one of my projects, I do this.  "What color of paint should I use in the living room?"  That kind of obsession.  But those things pass, and I go back to my usual state.

Other people talk about ideas.  These are the people I really enjoy talking to.  They make me think.  They have read a new book, or saw an article in the newspaper that was interesting.  When I get a new idea, I like to bounce it off of my friends who are thinkers.  Who talk about ideas.  It helps me solidify what I am thinking about.  They are my favorite conversationalists.

They don't argue, they just bounce ideas around.  I want my thoughts to be true.  I don't want to waste time on wrong conclusions.  I like to hear other people's input--if they are thinkers.

I have two people in my family that I call when I am "worrying" an idea around in my brain.  One is my son Scott.  The other is my grandson Steven.  They both like to "think out loud."  And even when I decide that they are out in left field, I know they will stir the "idea" around in their brain and get back with me. 

I guess because I am a teacher, I spend time thinking about what I am going to say, and how I am going to say it.  That part is easier than knowing what not to say.  Some ideas just aren't that important, and take valuable time away from the important stuff. 

Every few weeks, I like to point out some of the highlights of our faith.  There are lots of ways to come to believing, or having the faith that saves us.

Blind faith works.  But only if based on the truth.  You don't have to know what the truth is, but can just blunder in the right direction and get there.  You don't have to know very much to have faith in Jesus.  But blind faith can get you in trouble if you believe in the wrong things.

Historical faith.  If you are reading the right history.  And the more authors that record the event from different points of view, the better.  You might call it convergent faith.  Like, if I split the difference between two points, then do it again, and again, and again, the distance between us will effectively be zero.  You get there by converging on the truth.

Experiential faith. All of us who are Christians have that.  The problem is transference.  You can't really transfer your experience to another person.  It's yours.  And yours alone.  But you can share it.  And when thousands and thousands share the same story, it holds great weight.
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The Bible does that.  It isn't one book, it is many, many accounts of the same event by people who were there.  Who wrote it down in their own words.  And gave the same story.  When you read Matthew, then read Paul, or Luke, you can tell different people were writing.  They put their words together in different ways.  But they say the same things.  And James, John, Peter, Mark, Jude, etc. etc.  All different.  Same experience--converging on the truth.

He is risen.  We have seen him.  We touched him.  We sat down and ate with him.  He spoke to us.
I don't know about your family, but in mine, if I could get five or six of them to agree on anything, it would be a miracle.  But eleven.  That's a miracle.