I don't take "In your face" opinions very well.  I think we should all live in peace with each other.  I am tired.  I don't want to argue.  I just want people to be civil to each other and quit yelling at each other about their positions on issues.  Surely we can find peaceful solutions to living together.
All of the killing that has come before, and after the latest protests--has put me over the top.  Couple that with all the rancor in this Presidential campaign and I have a headache.  There has to be a better way to state your point, when you disagree with someone, than shooting them.  Martin Luther King was a good example.  He changed our world through peaceful protest against injustice.  He will be forever remembered as a great man who changed the course of history.  (I lived through that.  But many black people didn't.  Sometimes you have to be willing to die for what you believe. ) I just happened to be driving through Montgomery, Alabama during the marches.

Calling people names is forbidden in my world.  I don't want to hear it.  I don't care how much you dislike them.  That should have been learned by the time you went to grade school.

Personally, I am going to love you no matter what you do, what color you are--are aren't, how you identify yourself, who you vote for, or what church you go to.  I don't have to agree with you to love you.  I have a zero desire to be in charge of anyone else's life.   I do have a desire to introduce you to the Bible and its message with stories from my life.  Some are funny.  Laughter goes a long way.

Use understanding.  Kindness.  Generosity.  Having a "position" doesn't give you the right to yell at others, block roads, stop traffic, kill the police, the LGBT community, or each other.  That only causes animosity and division.  If you want me to listen, try something else.  But back it up with facts, not propaganda.   Like I said, I'm tired of all this rancor.  Please, do your part to stop it.

The last time I lived through such horrible rancor among the American people was during the Civil Rights movement.  People calling each other names, killing each other and two sides shouting slogans and refusing to listen to each other or to reason on issues.  This is awful.  I am ready for this election to be over--and with all the anger on both sides--I wonder what people will do when someone wins.  Will people accept whoever wins?  Or will this go on for four more years? Or eight?

My America, during the forties and fifties, was generally polite.  I can't help but wonder what our children will grow up and think--of the process of our government under this bitterness we are trying to endure--hoping that people will learn to work together to solve our real problems.  Most people haven't seen that in their lifetimes.  I have.  But then, I have lived a long time.

God gave us instructions for our responsibility to obey law and order.   

Romans 13:2-5  "So those who refuse to obey the laws of the land are refusing to obey God, and punishment will follow...So if you don’t want to be afraid, keep the laws and you will get along well.  The policeman is sent by God to help you...He is sent by God for that very purpose.  Obey the laws, then, for two reasons: first, to keep from being punished, and second, just because you know you should.  Pay your taxes too, for these same two reasons. For government workers need to be paid so that they can keep on doing God’s work, serving you...and give honor and respect to all those to whom it is due."

I like the words, "...just because you should."  Do what is right, even if no one else is.  Just because you should. 

That's easy to understand.

     My grandson Steven told me that I shared three basic questions with him years ago that he uses every now and then when someone asks him a question about God.  He reminded me of what they were and I remembered. 
1. Is there something out there?
2. Is that something good or bad?
3. How would "it" communicate with you? 
     When you search your heart for meaning in your life, those three questions seem universal.  They are a beginning point in that search.  Who is this "something?"

     We want to know where we came from?  How we got here?  What is the point of our existence?  Why were we created?  What is expected of us?  Who do we answer to?  What do we hope for?  Is this all there is?  How do I get in contact with that "something" out there?

     For those of us who believe in God, that third question, "How would it communicate with you," was answered long ago:   "God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spoke in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he has appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds..." Hebrews 1:1-2

     The Bible is a book of prophecies, and prophecy fulfillment written over thousands of years.  It is unique in that what God said through his prophets always, without exception, happened.  Over and over and over again.  It is statistically relevant.  It has been repeatedly proved as historically accurate--especially by archaeologists.   Since it speaks to us about that "Something out there," it would be a good thing to start reading it.  It is the communication that answers most of our questions.  And it rings with a sense of truth.  It's a story about love.

I have finished all my favorite verses and comments--from the New Testament--in the book I am compiling for my granddaughter Amy.  I am writing them by hand, in Cursive, and the thought crossed my mind that if she hands it down to another generation, they probably won't be able to read it.  Because they are cancelling Cursive in school.  At least that is what I've heard.  Which is sad.

I have now started writing verses from the Old Testament, and couldn't help but include a few verses about Ishmael  and Isaac.  Abraham's two sons.  God promised Abraham and Sarah a son--but Sarah laughed, and said how could that be at their age--and sent her handmaid into Abraham.  With the result that Ishmael was born--and later, (after Sarah had Isaac--in her nineties) Ishmael and his mother were banished to the desert.  Ishmael is the father of the Arabic people.   Isaac, through Abraham and Sarah, is the father of the Jews.  Thus, the wars began over who was the rightful heir of Abraham. 

I sometimes wonder why politicians think that they can settle a fight that has been going on for over four thousand years.  They hate each other.  We Americans are sometimes rather arrogant.

To Christians, however, the fight is immaterial to our faith.  Once Christ came, the covenant promise made to Abraham was fulfilled in Jesus.  Now there is no Jew, nor Gentile where God is concerned.  Nor male or female.  All people are welcome to become the children of God through Christ.

Problem is, neither Jews nor Muslims accept that God became a man and Jesus was that man.  The Jews are still waiting on their Messiah to come.  They don't accept all of the prophecy from their own books--the Old Testament--that were fulfilled in Jesus.   The Muslims disregard the entire Bible and have invented their own version and their own God--who is not God at all.  And the whole world is paying the price.  You can't help but wonder what would have happened if Sarah would have believed and trusted God to send her a son.   And wonder if we are any better than she was.

When my dad met my mom, he was smitten.  However, my Gran didn't approve of him.  Poverty stricken, friend of outlaws, wild--no father, uneducated.  Nothing going for him but good looks, black hair, kind heart and love for my mom.

But my Pops, my grandfather, gave his approval for my dad to marry his daughter.  Pops saw my dad's tender heart, and saw how he had supported his mother when his father had been murdered.  And saw how he loved his brother Harvey--enough to lose a year, go back and help Harvey catch up in school (when Harvey got sick).  I don't remember which grade my dad repeated to help Harvey, but Dad and Harvey graduated together.

But fifty years later, after Pops was gone and Gran was alone, my dad took care of her every need.  And Gran told him, "Elmer, you are a better son than either of my boys.  You've been so good to me."

It was good that Pops looked on my dad's heart.  It was made of gold.   I was blessed to have him for my father.  My Gran was blessed to have him for a son-in-law.

And it's a good thing God looks on our hearts.  He sees our real self.  Not what we are, but what we want to be--even though we sometimes fail.

You may not have had a kind father like I did, but there is a Father who wants to adopt you.  Come on in to the family.  The people aren't perfect, but they have good hearts.

1 Samuel 16:7 "... the Lord said unto Samuel, Don't look on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord sees not as man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart."

We are only one generation removed from the wild west.  My dad's dad was murdered.  There are lots of thoughts about who did it.  But, suffice to say, my grandfather was wealthy.  He ran cattle in western Oklahoma before we became a state.  After he was gone, his widow married a scoundrel who absconded with all of the money, leaving her penniless.  My dad was only 7 at the time, and worked like a grown man from that day on in the cafe.  Like I said yesterday, slaughtering hogs, cows, or whatever was needed.  He understood preparing meat for the kitchen.

He was born in 1910, lived to be 94, and ate pork, bacon, ham and lard (in some form or another) his entire life.  Maybe you can't eat like that, but thank God, I inherited my father's metabolism.  I burn up everything I eat, and don't gain weight.  It is a blessing.

And even though my heart has no beats, (they cut out the AV node) every time I go to the cardiologist, he remarks on how healthy my heart is.  No cholesterol.  Nothing even remotely clogged.  Strong muscle.  As long as I have a pacemaker, I can eat bacon forever.  All I need is a battery.

But my eyes.  Well this last three weeks have been miserable.  I kept thinking my glasses would show up.  They didn't.  So I have been writing to you without being able to see much of what I was writing.  But this morning I got my new glasses and can see the keyboard.  I asked the lady who fitted them how people could see in the olden days and she said, "They didn't.  They went blind."

We are so blessed.  In our world, if you break, there is generally a way to fix it.  However, those fixes don't last forever.  And only God can give you a clean heart.  The Bible says that someday we will get a new body.  And I won't need glasses or a battery.

I love raspberry chipotle sauce.  I even eat it with a spoon.  And over pork loin, it is heavenly.  I have never understood why God would not let the Jews eat pork.  It is the best of all meat.  Bacon should be a separate food group.  Everything is better with bacon on it.  Or fried in bacon grease.  If for that reason and that reason alone, I am glad I am not a Jew.  I don't think I could give up pork.  Especially bacon.  Especially fried salt pork.  Couple that with any vegetable and you have a meal.

When I got married--and didn't know how to cook anything--I got an envelope in the mail one day and inside were a dozen fried pork rinds.  Heaven.  Mom had fried salt pork and dad cut the rinds off to mail to me.  Now that is love.  Chewing on a rubbery pork rind is bliss.

And once a month, I cook a ham.  I eat ham and sweet potatoes, then ham sandwiches before I grind up the bits and pieces that are left to make ham loaf.  After all the meat is gone, I divide up the fat and bones and freeze them to make beans--which I have to have at least once a week.

My dad smoked hams when he was a boy.  Of course he had to slaughter them first.  His folks ran the only restaurant for miles around.  In Wilburton--in Southeast Oklahoma.  Outlaws crossed out of Arkansas into Oklahoma to escape the "Hanging judge."  And  every outlaw that crossed knew about my grandfather's (William Swan) cafe and my grandma's cooking.  My grandma Mary Jane was a fabulous cook.  Her yeast rolls were to die for.

There were caves outside of Wilburton called Robber's Caves.  For a reason!  Lawbreakers who crossed into Oklahoma were on good terms with the Swans, because my dad would deliver food to the caves.  I guess you could say his family supported criminals.  But my dad said that never occurred to any of them.  They were just running a cafe.  Pretty Boy Floyd, Belle Starr and Jesse James got hungry just like everyone else.  (Google them and read about Wilburton, Oklahoma.)

I lost my glasses three weeks ago.  I have looked everywhere I can think of, but--no glasses.  I usually put them on top of my head, so I even went out to the garden and searched through the tomato bushes, thinking that they might have fallen off my head when I was picking tomatoes. 

I have been struggling with some old ones that aren't quite in focus, and it is maddening to say the least.  But I knew that if I bought new ones, I would then find my old ones.  You know how that is.  But yesterday I gave up, took an old frame in and ordered new lenses.   I am expecting to find my old glasses any minute now.

When things aren't in focus in your life; when you are trying to make a decision and can't quite get it all straight in your mind; when you have an idea of what you want to do but can't quite pull all the pieces together, I have found that the best thing to do is just wait awhile.  It usually comes to you.   I normally just say something to God like, "I can't figure this out.  Can you give me some help?"

My prayers are pretty simple.  I don't generally have preambles, extra words, and long intervals.  When I hear some people pray long, long prayers in public, I admit that I wonder if they are trying to "Catch up."  Then I ask God to forgive me for being judgmental since I haven't heard from Him that my prayers are any better.

I don't ask Him what I should wear, eat, shop for, when to do the laundry, etc., etc.  God gave me a brain to think with and I try to use it.  But when there is a decision to make that could have several outcomes, I pray.   There are two things going on here.  Wisdom, and prayer.  Experience gives us wisdom, and God gives us prayer.  We need both to make good decisions.   Like the soldiers said in battle, "Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition."

Sunday, Lynn and Nelson and their daughter Jane had me over for lunch.  Lovely.  Jane goes to the U. of Tennessee--majoring in performance in violin--on a scholarship.  I asked if she would play for us and she graciously said yes.  It was wonderful.  She is so talented.  After a classical number, she played some blue-grass.

It takes years and years to master an instrument.  You have to dedicate yourself to practice every day.  But most things that are worthwhile take practice, and sometimes many years to master.

In my Bible study group, I have been teaching from 1 Samuel.  Sunday, we read the account of King Saul being tortured with an evil spirit--a way of describing sickness of the mind.  The call went out for someone who could calm him.  One of Saul's attendants told him that there was a young man who played the harp and maybe that would help.  That boy was David, (who later became King.)

David was just a boy, a sheepherder, who spent hours and hours in the fields by himself with nothing to do but protect his sheep.  So while he was there, he spent those hours learning to play the harp.  And when the moment came that his talent was needed, he was ready.

And David learned one more thing during those hours and hours of boredom in the pasture.  He learned to kill wild animals who threatened his sheep.  He became expert--through practice--with a slingshot.  And when the moment came that this skill was needed, he killed Goliath with a stone and a slingshot.  If you don't practice, you won't be ready when your moment comes. 

"And whatsoever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men."  Colossians 3:23
God will use you.  Stay in there.  Perfect something and be ready for your moment.

Last week I was on a rant.  I think I got most of it out of my system.  Just one last comment.  I got tired of Dear Abby's--among others--"In your face" philosophies. I get tired of constantly hearing other people's opinions based on what they do with their sexual organs.  I personally would be disgusted with myself if I had a need to tell people who I am based on my sexual orientation.  Stupid.  Low-class.  Tell me what you do for a living.  Tell me who your friends are.  Tell me what you do for entertainment; what your hobbies are.  Tell me where you go to church.  But please, don't tell me about your sex life.  I don't care.

I simply don't understand the need to use a megaphone to inform the world who you are having sex with.  Or a parade.  Or a sit in.  Or a demonstration.  Why anyone wants to identify themselves that way escapes me.  I would never, ever, walk up to someone and say,  "Hi.  My name is Janie, and I like ducks."  It's nobody's business.  If you have a compulsion to do that, take it up with God and leave others out of it.  Quit broadcasting it.  Have some sense of class.

God gave us a pattern for our sexual lives.  As a matter of fact, his first words to man were, "Be fruitful and multiply."  Hard to do that unless you have a male and female.

God set down the outline for existing within his will.  His rules are for the good of society.  And the home.  And the extended family.  And the world.  Argue with him.  And if you don't want to get in line with that, you have free will.  You get to decide what you do.  Your choice.  But you don't get to decide what the consequences are.  However,  I would appreciate it if you would leave Christians out of the group of people you want to attack for our beliefs.  Go judge somebody else. We're just trying to live peaceful lives based on the Word of God.  He is our judge.  And believe me, it's not easy.  I don't meet his expectations by a long shot.  Nor do I claim to.  I'm just working on it.

Philippians 2:12 "Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling."  It is a scary thing knowing that someday I will have to give an account of my behavior to God himself.




 

Sunday, we got into a discussion about two questions.  The first was fairly easy to answer because we had examples.  "Can God do anything?"  The answer was "No."  He cannot make you repent.  He cannot make you believe in Him.  He cannot make you accept Jesus as your redeemer, your payment for your sins.  All of those instances are up to your free will.  So we went on to the next question which was, and is, much harder to answer.  "Does God know everything?"

That question came up because we were studying 1Samuel's account (15:10) of King Saul's disobedience of God's directive not to take any of the sheep or cattle--after Saul had defeated an enemy.  Saul decided to disobey because he felt that killing all those animals would be a waste.  He excused himself by saying that the animals could be sacrificed to God.  And because Saul disobeyed, God said, "It repents me that I have set up Saul to be king, for he is turned back from following me..."

Some translations used the words, "I regret."  Others used "I am sorry."  So the question was:  How could God be sorry if he knew in advance that Saul was going to do the wrong thing?"  Did God know that Saul was going to disobey him?  We didn't get that question answered--and probably never will.  The key verse in the passage is:  "To obey is better than sacrifice."  Saul didn't get it.

I am reminded of an old hymn that says:  "Further along, we'll know all about it.  Further along, we'll understand why.  Cheer up my brother,  live in the sunshine.  We'll understand it all by and by."

I don't have all the answers.  But what I do know for sure is that God loves us.  He took the form of a man and died for our sins because of that love.  And he extends that love to each and every one of us.  It's free.  All you have to do is accept it.  (Go online and listen to Keith Green's rendition of "To obey is better than sacrifice."  It is really good.  Keith--and his children--died in a plane crash a long time ago, but his music lives on.) Obedience is at the top of the list of things that God expects of us.

We are all outside the will of God in one way or another.  That is why it behooves us not to point fingers.  Anything outside of the will of God, he calls sin.  We do not like that word.  It is harsh.  We would rather say we made a bad choice--or a mistake.  Or that what we did was an accident.  Or we didn't have time to think things through--circumstances overtook us.  Whatever; just don't call it sin.

What the world has come to, is to say that anything you want to do is okay.  That there are no absolutes.  Which of course means that there is no God.  No standard that we must live by.   After that becomes acceptable in the general population, the next step is to ridicule those who believe that there is a God and who try to pattern their lives after His precepts.  The world labels us as bigots--when in fact we are the ones who have confessed that we are sinful--that we want to accept God's standard for our lives. But by doing so, it looks like we are judging those who deny God's right to make rules for their lives.  And by making a choice, we are moving in a different direction.  "Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much."  James 5:16  When you become a  Christ follower, you confess, then try to change what you do.  Daily.  Which you couldn't do without the help of God himself.

Judges 17:6  "In those days there was no king in Israel, but every man did that which was right in his own eyes."  The result was chaos.  Israel fell.  Hard. We, too, are a lawless generation.  We don't want anybody to tell us what to do.  We think we are so smart.  We each think we know more than those who are in charge.  How can we possibly escape the judgement of God?

  Genesis 6:6  "And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart."  I personally do not want to grieve God.  I just read His word, and try to get in line with it.  I can't answer for what anyone else does.  They will have to.  Good luck with that.

If I haven't offended you yet, this blog will probably do it.  And as long as I am on this rant about Abby, let me say that the first time--back in the late fifties, early sixties--that I heard her say that the homosexual community was "born that way," that they could not help themselves, (a statement she made with no clinical or medical expertise), I thought to myself, "Where is this woman getting this stuff?"  At the time, Ken was teaching Sociology, Criminal Justice, Marriage and Family, and Deviant Behavior--one topic being on sexual deviation.  In addition to text books, he had hundreds and hundreds of studies and test cases, etc., and sometimes--when I was waiting on him at the end of the day for us to start home--I would read those test cases.  None of them ever supported Abby's opinion--unless the person had dual, or partial sexual organs.

I came to the conclusion that if you want to say that any behavior deviant to the norm can be classified as, "I was born that way," then let's include them all.  Why single out homosexuals.

The pedophile who is sexually attracted to children.  He or she has no interest in people their own age, only children. Or babies.  Shall we have a parade for the pedophile?  Are they born that way?  Or the farm boy who finds he is attracted to goats.  (Good grief.  You would be amazed at how may cases of deviant behavior there are with animals--as also covered thousands of years ago in the Old Testament.)  The serial murderer who is driven to kill.  He kills again and again.  He just can't help it?
The shoplifter who has an inner drive to steal--even when she doesn't need to--just for the rush?
The compulsive liar who lies when the truth would sound better.  If you are born that way, then you aren't responsible for your behavior.  And God can't hold you accountable.

Personally, I have never believed that people can't control themselves.  We choose what we do. However.  We all have friends or family involved in behaviors contrary to the norm, and must remember that we are not their judge.  God is.  But to say that God would create you to be unable to control something he has forbidden you to do doesn't make sense to me.  As I said yesterday, I can love someone without endorsing what they do.  You get to choose what you do.  It's called free will.   

And as long as I am on a rant about "Dear Abby,"  let me say this:  That column has been around for over fifty years, preaching a message of tolerance of almost anything you can possibly think of.

I am not sure where this gospel of tolerance began, but with a public forum like "Dear Abby," it has been propagated world wide.  God is, and never has been, tolerant.  He is a God of love.  And if you want to grow in God's grace, it must by by His principles.  There are things that He will not tolerate in His people.  And as a result, that his people must not be tolerant of, as well.  You do not have to hit people over the head with a Bible.  But you also do not have to be tolerant of the behaviors that God has forbidden.

There is a big difference between tolerance and genuine love and concern.  There were many things that I would not tolerate in the lives of my children when they were growing up.  It had nothing to do with my love for them.  As long as they were a part of my family, there were expectations that--if violated--would bring discipline.  But regardless of what they did, I still loved them.

So when we are confronted with something that God has forbidden, it is simply idiotic to embrace it--because there will be discipline from God.  God is not going to change his mind about behavior that he has forbidden.   It is "Cheap Grace," to ignore God's grace.  He demands a life that is lived in accordance with His will.  You can stick your head in the sand and ignore Him, but there will be a payday, someday.  You can't make your own rules up and tell God that you have edited his Word.

2 Corinthians 6:17 "Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you."  That's the recipe for being received by God.

Leviticus 20:26 "You shall be holy to me; for I the Lord am holy, and I have separated you from the other peoples to be mine."  I think that is pretty clear. 

I have sunk to a new low.  This morning after I did the Suduko, crossword and cryptogram, I read "Dear Abby."  It is a good thing I did, or I would never have known the new low that she has sunk to.  The topic was on what Christian people believe, and she said--and I quote:  "There is no way to change the thinking of someone who takes the Bible...literally."  She went on to tell a 13 year old Christian girl to wait, that when she was older she wouldn't have to do what her mother had taught her to do, and could do what she wanted to do.

Jeanne Phillips, whose mother Pauline started the column, is a Jew.  I would think she would at least take the Old Testament seriously--since Jews wrote it as they were inspired by God.  She surely shouldn't be giving advice on morals to a Christian child.

The problem with people like Abby who use the word "literally," is that they don't understand that it isn't just "words" in the Bible, it is the message.  There are thousands of translations of "words," but there is only one message.  Even in English, there are many translations of words.  We will never be able to translate Hebrew or Greek or Arabic into English perfectly.  But.  But.  There is no mistaking the message of the Bible.  It rings with authenticity.  It requires goodness from the people on earth.  It calls for a higher standard.  The message is what is literal and is very easy to understand.

If you want to argue with what God has to say,  you must do it with Him.  His message is clear on all of the subjects that Abby (Jeanne Phillips) disagrees with.  Those of us who take the Bible as historical truth,  try to live by that truth--the message of the Bible.  We leave judgements to God.

The great message of the Bible is to love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as you love yourself.  It does not teach us to agree with with our neighbor's views.  We are required to agree with God.  Which we do.  At least, I do.  I hope you do, too.

There is a little restaurant in Harrah, Oklahoma that has really super catfish.  I try to make it over there on Friday every now and then.  It's a thirty minute drive, but it's worth it.  Pat works at the library in Harrah, so we meet up sometimes.  Last week, I took my friend Arteen with me, (Yes, I have finally made a friend here in Edmond that is ready to hop and go), and she loved it, too.
 
When anyone calls and asks me to go eat, and follow that with, "Where do you want to go?"  I ask, "What do you want to eat?"  Seems like every diner has something that they are known for.  Something that they do better than anyone else. 

There are some meals that I have had that I will never forget:  Shrimp Newburg at the Officer's club in Quantico, Va.  Pecan crusted catfish at a little place as you cross the bridge going East in Vicksburg, Mississippi.  Crab stuffed shrimp at the Driftwood in Pensacola, Florida.  And so on.  I wish I could eat those meals again.  But you can't go back.  Those places are long gone I am sure.

I guess I am thinking about food because it's Friday.  I'm not Catholic, but I think they have a really good idea about eating fish on Friday.  We should all eat seafood more often.

Every Christian denomination has its peculiarities.  Baptists think you have to immersed when you are baptized.  This view is not held by some.  Some churches think you have to be baptized to be saved.  Some churches sprinkle.  If there weren't differences of opinion, there wouldn't be so many denominations.  But central to all is the fact that God became a man who lived a perfect life and went to a cross as a sacrifice for our sins.  But the most important thing is that He rose again--as witnessed by thousands--and conquered death.  So that we can live, and be reconciled to God himself.

We are all of us--who believe, who have faith in him--His children. 

    

Becky made a rhubarb pie last night.  My mom used to make one every now and then.  I hadn't tasted rhubarb pie in fifty or sixty years.  Yummmm....  I am not a sweet-eating kind of person--except for pie and French pastry.  Candy, chocolate, store bought cookies, cake--I can take or leave.  Mostly leave.  Homemade cookies are an occasional exception.

The reason that losing my passport was such a big deal is because my friend Carolyn and I are going back to Paris.  And my plan is to eat every pastry I can get my hands on.  I am also taking flat tupperware containers instead of a bunch of extra clothes, (I don't want the pastries to get smashed), so that I can bring them back and freeze them when I get home.   The French do know how to cook.  They use butter, butter, butter.  And real cream.

Food.  Eating.  It is such a great pleasure.  We have God to thank for all the different kinds.  And in America we are blessed with great grocery stores that keep whatever we want in whatever season we want it in.  God Bless America.  I fried three pounds of okra to take to dinner with Becky and Craig last night.  Okra is God's greatest gift of food ever.  And Southern fried is the best.

 God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food."  Genesis 1:29

 "And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so."  Genesis 1:30

"Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you; and just as I gave you the green plants, I give you everything." Genesis 9:3  It wasn't God's intention to have us eat meat.  This verse comes nine chapters after God put Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden.  After they had sinned.

Somewhere between packing my belongings in Pryor, and opening the last box here, I lost my passport.  I have gone through everything in this house two or three times: every drawer, every closet, every nook and cranny,  No passport.  I remember having it in my hand in Pryor.  But after that, nothing.  I finally decided that I must have put it in the trash accidentally.

Becky went through all the places that I thought I might have put it.  She even pulled the drawers out of every chest with the possibility it had been caught behind one of the drawers.  It hadn't.

So Lisa came from Tulsa last Friday with the one purpose of going through everything again.  Which she did.  And just when she was ready to concede defeat, she found it.  In a file that I had made of papers I filed when I was closing Ken's estate.  Insurance forms, death certificates, etc.  Why I put it there, I will never know.  I was probably distracted by the enormous bulk of paperwork that I had to deal with those last few months.  I don't know.  I just know I am greatly relieved that it is found.

Monday I lost my glasses.  This "losing things" is getting old.  I have worn glasses since I was very young and have never lost them.  I am still looking for them.  I may have to call Lisa and beg her to come back.

When you are up in years, people think you are losing your faculties.  I'm not.  But I am losing some of my balance.  I get distracted while I'm trying to get in or get out of a car.  The thing I have noticed is that the things I used to think about when moving from house to car, or car to house, are not what I am thinking about now.  I don't want to fall.  Or drop and break something--so my concentration is on those problems--not that I have left my jacket in the car seat.  Or laid my glasses down--who knows where.  Aging is frustrating.  But I really can't complain.  I am in good shape for the shape I'm in.

I'd rather lose something because I'm distracted than break a bone.  

Sunday I embarrassed myself.  The church service had a patriotic theme and after we had sung a number of patriotic songs, the choir preformed a special that tore me up.  They sang a specially arranged composition comprised of the songs of each of the services.  It was so moving.  As the military service was recognized in song, the veterans from that service stood to be recognized.

I just can't get through something like that without crying.  And once I start, I can't stop.  The composition of songs ended with the Marine Corps hymn and by then I was a mess.   The man in the pew behind me was a Marine, and his wife leaned over and whispered, "They also serve who stay at home and wait."  How true.

Well, that did it.  I finally had to leave.  I am not a crier.  I just don't do that, especially in public.  I try to avoid patriotic events just because of the flag raising.  It breaks my heart.  Too many young men.  Too many caskets.  Too many wars in my lifetime.

I never cry when I am in physical pain.  I remember once when I had committed some offense (probably sassing my mother),  my dad spanked me, and when he had given me a couple of licks, he said, "Janie, start crying so I can stop this."  I told him, "No."  He said, "Well, that's it.  I will never spank you again."  And he never did.  I did try to do better after that.  I don't know if I succeeded.

Back then, everyone spanked their kids.  Probably because we took the scripture to heart that said, "Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them." Proverbs 13:24  Back then, It was accepted that when you committed an infraction of the rules, you were going to get a spanking.  At home, and at school.  Now, we don't do that very much.  As a matter of fact, some parents don't discipline their children in any way at all--to the detriment of society.  I cringe sometimes when I am in public at the behavior of some children nowadays.

One of the advantages of having my children when I was really young, is that my parents were also young.  My mom and dad were both in their forties when the girls were born, and had just turned fifty when Scott came along.  All three of my children were older when my Gran died, so they knew her as well.  Both of my parents were still in good health when Jon was born ten years later.  All of them had a great influence in the lives of my children.  I am thankful for that.

After the Marine Corps years, we went back to our home town, and interaction between the generations was a big part of all of our lives.  Becky told me that when Gran was in her nineties, that Becky had gone to the nursing home where Gran was being cared for, and Gran--who was struggling to speak---looked up at her and said, "God is good."  Gran couldn't hardly move--having been paralyzed by a stroke.  She was miserable and suffering but Becky said that she will always remember those words.  They were the last words she heard Gran say.

She didn't say, "God was good."  And she didn't say, "God will be good."  In the middle of the tragedy of a broken body, she said, "God is good."  That is such a wonderful testimony from a strong Christian woman who was preparing to meet her God.  We were blessed to know her.

 Once when I was in Rome, I got to go to the place where they held the apostle Paul after he was arrested for his belief in Christ.  It was a small rock cistern in the ground with only a hole in the surface rock as an entry.  The only way in--back then--was to drop a ladder in the hole.  Dark.  Damp.  Cold.  Lonely.  Confined.  And while he was in prison, Paul wrote, "...for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." Philippians 4:11b.  I told you last week about my mother being content in the middle of Alzheimer's disease,  so the scripture that Paul wrote when he was locked in a Roman prison is still fresh in my mind.

I hate to admit it, but am glad Paul was in prison.  If he hadn't been arrested we wouldn't have all the wonderful letters that he wrote which are now a large part of our Bible.

My mom's older brother, Ray, was  in the Navy in World War 2.  He was very, very smart.  He was enlisted, but since he had a college education, the Navy had him teach Physics at the Naval Academy. After the war, he was a principal and taught physics in a couple of small Oklahoma towns.  Two of his physics students went on to become Rhode Scholars.  Unusual for the likes of small towns in Oklahoma.  He was Oklahoma's teacher of the year one year.

Mom's other brother, Thurman, (he was the youngest in the family) graduated from high school when he was fifteen or sixteen. Sister Ruby worked and sent him to college at OU.  He got a chemical engineering degree before he was twenty.  He was the oil person in charge of sinking the well that is on the capital lawn in Oklahoma City.  He spent most of his life in Venezuela.

All five of them graduated from college.  Their mother, Gran, had an eighth grade education.  Pops, a second grade education.  They farmed.  It was a hard life in the twenties, but they both were determined that all five of their children would finish college and have an easier life than they had.

Ruby worked, and waited to get married until all of her siblings were finished with college.  (In those days, a single woman couldn't get married and keep teaching.)  As soon as Thurman graduated, Ruby and Cleo got married.  She was thirty years old by then.  They all sacrificed for their education.

So, the next generation, my generation, was expected to go to college.  Which they all did.  Except me.  I got married at eighteen and disappointed everyone in the family. (Even though they were thrilled that I was going to marry Ken since they all knew him.)  So I had to make a solemn promise that I would start college that year.  But we were only going to be in Pensacola for a few months,  not long enough to complete a semester, so I put it off, and of course, four months later I was pregnant.  Four babies later, when Ken was overseas, I finally got around to college.   And that is another story. 

My mother's family.  From humble parents and humble beginnings.  Only in America.