I am late posting this.  It's been a busy week.  I have tried to cook dinner for my niece Lindsey and her husband Sam (who are staying with me for 10 days) every night this week--and I have had different members of my (and their) family over each night for them to eat and to get to know each other better.  Tomorrow, (Saturday) Jon and his wife Jennifer and their two little boys Brady and Tate are coming over.

Then Sunday, a cousin from North Carolina and a two cousins from Wichita are coming.  So I haven't had much time to think about writing.  I have been cooking.  Which I haven't done much of in the last two years.  I am out of practice.  Monday through Wednesday we are going to eat leftovers!!

Sam is a Captain in the Air Force, and every morning when he is heading out to work, in uniform, I find my eyes drawn to the bars on his shoulders.  Ken was a Captain when I married him.  I have been flooded with memories of Ken in uniform headed out the door.  I don't think I have really thought much about uniforms since 1968 when Ken retired.  Oklahoma is far removed from most military establishments.  And Pryor is totally and completely removed.

Ken made Major in 1961.  Five years after I married him.  So all of those first memories of getting to know him were when he was a Captain in the Marine Corps.  Double bars on his shoulders.  Sixty-one years ago.  He was so handsome.  Such a striking figure in his uniform.

And today, Sam left for work in a flight suit.  I look at him and Lindsey and wonder if Ken and I were ever that young.  It seems like a million years ago.  It seems like yesterday.  They are such a sweet couple.  With their whole lives ahead of them.

God bless our citizens in uniform.

The temperature today was in the thirties.  Really cold.  It was in the eighties a couple of days ago.  Oklahoma at it's best.  Of course, I am concerned about my tomatoes.  I knew when I planted them that just because it was April--and it seemed like spring--it didn't mean anything in Oklahoma.

The azaleas are blooming, daffodils have come and gone--as well as most of the other spring flowers.  But weather here is totally unpredictable.  I knew I planted my okra too early.  I'll probably have to plant it again.  I'll know in a day or two.  If you are a gardener in Oklahoma, you must never give up.

The Iris that I brought from Pryor and planted in the front yard are blooming like crazy.  The same iris from the exact same roots, I planted in the back yard, and they didn't bloom at all.  So as well as trying to figure out the weather, you have to figure out where the plants will be happy and grow.

The weeds grow everywhere.   Bad things are easy.  Good things are hard.  Just like life.  I wish Adam wouldn't have sinned and gotten the "Weed Curse."  Weeds make the gardening work so difficult.   For every single tomato plant, there are ten to twenty weeds trying to soak up the fertilizer I put down.  But when I pick my first tomato, pulling out all the weeds will have been worth it.

I try to pull the weeds out of my life, but I am by nature selfish, self-centered, stubborn, etc., and it is a lot of work to keep my true nature at bay so that my better qualities can be seen.  (I do have a few.)

The Bible study that I am in is examining the "Character Traits of Christ"--which are not natural qualities in human beings.  We are all flawed and in need of self-examination.   And change.   We need to pull weeds and plant flowers in our lives.  It is a life long journey.  We start with a willingness to change our behavior; He gives us the strength to do it; and we do the "doing."

A friend once told me, "Don't ever ask to see yourself as God sees you--or you will be overwhelmed and give up."  Luckily, God leads us on one step at a time, never giving us more than we can handle at any given moment.  One weed at a time.

I read a good quote today: "Worry is thinking that God won't get it right.  And bitterness is thinking God got it wrong."  Been there, done both.  It doesn't work very well in either case.  You have to live a few years to realize that God will get it right.  He never gets it wrong.  We just can't see the big picture.  Sometimes you are just one small piece of His plan.  And if that part is suffering, just know that it is not for nothing.  God honors us by including us in His complete plan.

I like the scripture, "In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God, in Christ Jesus, concerning you."  It doesn't say to give thanks for what is happening to you when it is a difficult thing, it says to be thankful "in" everything.  There is always something to be thankful for "in" your present situation.  The scripture says, "...in everything give thanks...".  It doesn't say, "...for everything give thanks."  I don't like the bad, uncomfortable, difficult things that have happened to me.  God is not requiring for me to like those things.  Just endure.  Stick it out.

When I am discouraged, and find myself unable to find solutions for my circumstances, I try to get through what I am frustrated about by thinking on the positive things that are going on in my life.  I can always find a zillion things to be thankful for.  And thanking God for those things lifts my spirit.
"...whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these things."  Philippians 4:8

Paul got it right in that verse.  What we think about is a direct contributor to our attitude.  If you are thinking about things you are thankful for, if you have a thankful heart, you will be a much happier person.  If you dwell on what's going wrong, what's bad, what's difficult--you'll be despondent, discouraged, and a grouch.

There always seems to be something going on in my life that is discouraging.  Disappointing.  Problematic.  Difficult.  Painful.  I'm sure you have those, too.  I would encourage you to endure it with grace.  It will pass.  God is there for you in times of trouble.  Psalms 46:1 "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea..."

My friend Carolyn's son (Paul) bought me a ticket to hear the Gaither's choir in Tulsa a couple of years ago.  I love listening to harmony, and of course they have trios and quartets that sing with them quite often.  Everyone says it is "old-folks" music.  Maybe so, but I bet that's what they are going to be singing in heaven.  And when you step through the pearly gates, they are going to hand you a hymnal.  So you better figure out how to sing harmony.

Churches have moved away from harmony in the last few years.  And they have also moved away from songs that have a "story" message--in favor of songs that praise God.  Not that there is anything wrong with praising God!!...but most of the songs repeat the same phrase over and over again.  And have monotone melodies.  Young people seem to like it, but in every church I have been in, when one of the "new" songs are sung, they are sung almost entirely by the choir and music director.  Most of the people stop singing--but listening is good

Maybe it is what young people like--and we old timers will have to be gracious about it.  I'm sure God doesn't care what kind of music we sing.  The Bible says, "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord..."

I sang in a trio when I was in high school.  We loved the McGuires and copied them.  I guess we were okay for copy-cats; we ended up singing all over Oklahoma.  Our claim to fame was singing backup (once) for Ernest Tubbs--who was the Garth Brooks of those days.  And then when I graduated, I never sang in a choir again.  I played the piano for choirs.  Until this year.  I am really enjoying singing in the choir again, and the director has me play the marimba when we travel to places to sing.

I have a friend who doesn't like to hear the drums in church.  And my next door neighbors don't use any instruments in their church at all.  I like the orchestra.  Others don't.  I like Harmony.  Others don't.  I wonder what the music in heaven will be like.

One thing I think everyone down here on earth seem to agree on is that you need to gather yourselves together with other Christians.   And make some kind of musical noise.

My niece, Lindsey--Lisa's daughter--is coming, with her husband Sam, to spend the week.  Sam is in the military, and they are being transferred to the area.  They bought a house, but it hasn't closed.

I only met Sam for one second--when I was going through the receiving line at their wedding years ago.  And the last time I spent any real time with Lindsey was when she was a little girl.  I bet they are wondering what I am going to be like.  Will I be picky?  Will I be hard to get along with?  Will I act like the old woman that I am?  Will they feel like they are imposing?  I hope they are pleasantly surprised.  I hope they feel right at home and just move right in and feel completely welcome.  Which they are.  I certainly have the space for them.  If there is one thing that I know a lot about, it is what it is like to be in the middle of a transfer in the military.

I went to teacher's meeting Wednesday night to go over the lesson for Sunday--it was on the second coming of Christ.  Basically, the scripture compared His coming to the days of Noah, before the flood.  Everyone was going about their business as usual, even though Noah warned them that a flood was coming.  The people made fun of Noah for building an ark in the middle of dry land.  And didn't listen to his warnings that they better get ready to meet the judgement of God.

The teacher's quarterly basically said that:  1.  Christ is coming.  2.  Nobody, not even Jesus Himself, knows when.  3.  You need to be ready.  So that is what I told my class in less than a minute.  But I always try to make two points every Sunday with whatever scripture we have.  So we talked about what it means to "be ready to meet Christ."

First, you personally need to make sure that you have repented of sin, and given Him your life.  That you have trusted Him with all that you are, and all that you have.  And second, you should, as a result,  possess an inner desire to live a life that is pleasing to him.  Which includes knowing that you are responsible to share the good news with those you come in contact with.  One way you know you are a Christian is that you feel the Holy Spirit within you urging you to share your hope with others.  (And I don't mean hitting them over the head with a Bible.)  (If you have no desire to share, check whether you have taken the first step.)  "...always be prepared to give an answer to anyone that asks a reason for the hope that is in you..." 1Peter 3:15  It should be something you want to do, and are willing to do.  Hope is a good thing.

I knew it was too good to be true.  Yep, I didn't pay my taxes last year.  How that happened I'll never know.    The cancelled check I found (after all that mental trauma and digging through all that paper work) was for the previous year.  I guess I depended on my accountant too much.  He had always given me an addressed envelope to send in, with an explanation for the amount I needed to pay.  All I had to do was write a check and mail it in.

But for the year in question, my accountant turned me over to someone new--and I guess I didn't read what they told me to do very well.  I can only say that I am relieved that it is resolved.  Even if it didn't turn out like I wanted it to turn out.  I am no longer a felon.  Or thief.  Or criminal.  Or whatever you are when you fail to pay your taxes for a year.  It cost less than $20 in late fees--which I think was more than fair.  It could have been a lot worse.

It is my first brush with the law in my entire life except for a speeding ticket.  I hope it is my last.  Well, maybe you might count it a brush with the law when I was called to testify in court in a legal dispute between my dad and another man who thought he owned five extra feet between their houses.  My dad was the owner, but the other guy wanted to take it to court.  It was awarded to my dad.

That's it.  My entire criminal and legal court history.  I can't imagine how Jesus came before Pilot and didn't defend himself.  Especially since he was innocent.  He took our punishment.  He went to his death on the cross on our behalf.  He was called a criminal when all he had done in his entire life was to speak the truth.  Everything he did was for you and me.  And when he was near death, he said, "It is finished."  Everything that could be done in 33 years, he had done.

He showed us how we are to live, how we are to behave toward our fellow man, and how to worship God.  "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."

The legal system killed him for what we have done.  They executed an innocent man.  You and I, on the other hand, are guilty as charged by God.  Jesus paid for our sin.  He paid it all.

Pat called this morning and asked what kind of okra I planted every year--because hers didn't do anything last year and she wanted to plant what I planted--I always have good success with okra.  "Well," I told her, "I plant Poppy's (that's what she calls my dad) seeds.  He always had a great okra patch so I got some of his okra seeds years and years ago--probably 20 years ago.  I just harvest seed every year at the end of the year so I never run out."

"Do you have enough for me to have some?"  And of course I did.  (We need Poppy's okra seed coming up all over Oklahoma.)  I just pick some healthy pods every year, at the beginning of production, and let them grow.  Eventually, they turn brown and go to seed.  I always let more of them ripen than I need--so that I have plenty of seed to give away.  Then I put the brown pods in an open glass canister on my kitchen counter where I can see them all winter long and dream of spring.

I planted my okra last Monday.  Yes, I know, it's probably too early, but I never can wait.  They will pop up and just sit there until it gets hot.  And when the temperature is right, the plants grow like weeds.  The only thing okra needs--besides the sun--is water.  It's a hot weather plant.

God has blessed Oklahoma with the ability to grow our own food.  Just about everything you stick in the dirt will grow.  But I don't bother with green beans.  You can buy them frozen already snapped and you can't tell the difference if you cook them right.  I don't like to snap beans--probably because we had to do that when we went to my Gran's house in the summer.  She always planted Kentucky Wonders.  They tasted great, but the term "String-beans" came from Kentucky Wonders.  Stringy--and when you snapped them, you had to pull all the strings out or they ended up between your teeth.  Not fun.

I ate my own home grown tomatoes this January.  If you pick the green ones before the first frost and wrap them in newspaper, it will delay them from ripening.  I pulled a few out of the newspaper every week last year from October to January.  Yum.  Homegrown tomatoes in January.

Every good gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.  James 1:17

I spent the entire morning avoiding going through all of those past tax accounts and bank records because I didn't want to do it.  I've told you before that I get my best work done when I am procrastinating doing something that cannot be avoided.  When I am procrastinating, I use the method of "accomplishing something else that needs to be done."  I stay very busy doing things that absolutely have to be done but that aren't as objectionable as the thing I am putting off.  It works for me. I am definitely not suggesting that you try it.

By noon, I had done every job that I had been putting off for the last week or two.  It all was done within an hour or two.  Finished.  I even cleaned and sorted all the paper around my chair and paid bills.  I copied recipes that I had torn out of magazines and put them into my recipe file, etc. etc., but eventually I had to face going through all those past tax records and do what had to be done.

It took two hours of rummaging in old files.  And when it was all over, I found the copy of the check that I had paid to the IRS.  Who knows why they thought I didn't pay it.  They probably credited it to someone else's account.  Now comes the battle.  They are going to require a bunch of stuff--so this isn't over yet.

But as a reward for finishing all that busy work--just as I finished cleaning up the paper mess I had made in my search for the check--my sister Lisa called and said she was on her way to see me.  Yea.  Because I had finished doing everything I needed to do, I was free to visit with her without anything hanging over my head.

We went out to eat and when we got back she hung a picture and a couple of shelves for me.  She always helps me do stuff when she comes.  So it turned out to be a great day.

Then Jesus said to them, "Give back to Caesar that which is Caesar's, and to God that which is God's..."  Mark 12:17  I was willing to do that, I just didn't want to.  And since I found the check, I don't have to.  That's a relief.

Yesterday I got a letter from the IRS saying that I owe them a ton of money.  That will wake you up from complacency in a hurry !  I called my tax person and they are looking into it.  I hope they dig deep and find no mistakes.  But either way, I'll have to deal with the IRS.  Frustrating.

And on top of that I gained two pounds over the weekend.  It was a bad Monday all around.  But nobody in the family got sick.  Nobody died...so I probably just need to look at it differently.

There are big problems.  There are small problems.  No need to make a mountain out of a mole-hill.  Gaining a pound or two is a mole-hill.  Owing the IRS a ton of money looks like a mountain--which comes with a request by the accountant to fax him the letter.  Which means that I have to figure out where to go to do that.  Which means that I have to get out of my robe and house-shoes and go get dressed, get in the car and drive somewhere that has a fax machine.

So on top of being frustrated, I'm irritated.  Which is counter-productive.

You know, and I know, that life if full of frustrations.  We have to deal with them.  They interrupt our status-quo and reorder the plans for our day.

I just have to turn this tax thing over to God.  I either owe it or I don't.  If I owe it, I have to pay it.  That's a fact.  If I don't owe it, well, that isn't a fact.  I have to prove it.  I have to go back and find my records from the last two years and figure out what happened.  And if you know my personality, you know that that will be like pulling hen's teeth for me.  I hate that kind of stuff.

I never knew how to appreciate some of the things Ken did until he wasn't here to do them.  I never had to think about taxes--in 57 years of marriage.  He did ours, my dad's, my aunt Lucile's, our friends, and everyone else who asked him for help.  Surely I can figure out this one, single tax return.

But I'm going to need God's help because this definitely is not in my comfort zone.

I heard the most awesome prayer a week or so ago that I have ever heard in my life.  I have a man who sometimes works for me.  He is 60 years old, and has a very rough background.  He scrapes by on odd jobs--but he is a really hard worker.  One day last year when he had finished working outside, I told him to come in and eat lunch with me.  He told me he couldn't because he had mud on his boots.  I told him to take them off, and come into the kitchen in his socks.  He did.  He was really hungry, and I discovered that he hadn't even had breakfast, and it was noon.

He sat down and filled his fork, and was ready to put it in his mouth when I spoke his name and said, "Let me bless our dinner."  He put his fork down and bowed his head--uncomfortable I am sure.   I asked God to give him the strength to keep working so that he could make a living.  I prayed for his health as well, thanked God for our food and sat down at the table and ate with him.

This went on all summer.  He would leave his boots on the back porch, come into the kitchen in his socks.  I would bless our food and we would eat.  When there was food left over, I would pack it up for him to take home.  I tried to cook enough so that there were leftovers for him.

So when I called him last month and asked him if he wanted to come work for me again this year, he came.  And at lunchtime, he left his boots on the back porch, came into the house in his socks, sat down and automatically bowed his head for me to pray.  But this time, when I said, "Amen," he looked up toward heaven and said:  "Me, too."

I have never heard a prayer so full of meaning in my entire life.  "Me, too."  What more could he have said.  But most importantly, he spoke to God.  That's what prayer is.  I am already using his prayer myself after someone in the church prays.  I say a silent "Me, too," to God.

You don't have to hit people over the head with a Bible to let them see that God lives in your life and that it is real.  And that doesn't happen in one day.  It takes time.  You have to be willing to give it.  You have to stay with it for the long run.  I can't wait to hear what his next prayer will be.

I went to the movie last night and saw "The Zookeeper's Wife."  It is difficult to watch the invasion of Poland, the annihilation of the Jews in Warsaw, the burning of the ghetto, and loading of men, women and children into boxcars.  But I felt that I needed to see it, in light of the current propaganda saying that it never happened.  It happened.  I would say, "Go see it."  We need to remember and never forget.  Those who forget history, they say, are doomed to repeat it.

But in the middle of it all, there were people who risked their lives to help some Jews hide or escape.  I couldn't help but examine myself and wonder if I would have been brave enough to risk my life in those circumstances.  I hope I would have.  I hope I would have tried--but it would have meant almost certain death.

But just as some would deny the Holocaust, there are those who deny the resurrection of Jesus Christ. History is what is printed in books and letters by those that experienced it.  And the accumulation of their stories--that say the same thing in different ways, in their own words--is a solid validation of those events.  Many people saying the same thing about the same event is what makes "history."  We choose to believe it, or deny it--in the face of undeniable odds.  The Holocaust.  The Resurrection of Jesus.

Josephus, a historian around the time of Christ, wrote about Jesus.  Matthew.  John.   Peter.  Mark.  Paul.  James.  Luke.  Thomas.  Jude...and others told us about Him and his resurrection.  As well as others who told their stories to someone else--and they wrote it down.  You can't possibly have dozens of people having the same hallucination of a non-event.  Jesus died--Roman soldiers saw to that, and verified it by stabbing his side.  He was buried and the tomb was guarded by Roman soldiers--like Marines, they don't sleep on the job.  There were a number of them guarding the tomb, not just one.  Their lives were on the line.  They would have been killed if Jesus' body vanished.

He arose from the dead.  Over 500 people saw Him.  That is a historical event.  That is a fact.  He lives.  He conquered death.  And someday, I will be where He is.  Forever.  And it is free.  Paid for in blood.

I usually write at night and edit and post the next morning.  But sometimes, like last night, I reach for the "save" button and miss.  I hit the publish button.  And out on the web it goes.  So today's post got sent out last night.

I went to Teacher's meeting last night.  What usually happens there, is a discussion of the upcoming Sunday's topic.  The room is full of people who will be teaching the lesson, and there is almost always a lively discussion.  People bring up points that are new and interesting.

Next Sunday is Easter, and the discussion centered around the excuses that people make for not believing in the resurrection of Christ.  I had just been to the movie about Lee Stroble's quest to prove that it didn't happen.  He was a journalist, and only believed in reporting facts.  And as an atheist, he was absolutely certain that the entire story of the resurrection was a fable.

If you haven't read his book, "The Case for Christ," then you might want to go and see the movie.  Sometimes religious movies can be "Hokey."  But this film is excellent.   Each point that he set out to prove was not true, was validated by experts in their individual fields.  Over time, he realized that the "Case" for the resurrection was undeniable.  He became a Christian, and his book is a national best seller.  He pulls no punches in trying to disprove the resurrection.

The Christian faith rests on the resurrection.  If it didn't happen, our faith is in vain.  But it did happen; he was seen by over 500 people.  One of the psychology experts that Lee questioned said, "It is not possible for 500 people to have the exact same hallucination.  They saw him."

And Thomas said, "I don't believe it."  Good old Thomas.  Honest to a fault.  But later, he saw the risen Jesus and fell to his knees and exclaimed, "My Lord, and my God."  I love skeptics who want proof.  Thomas got his proof--as did many, many others.

But at some point, there is a leap of faith.  Some people believe in a simple way and are just as "saved" as those who demand proof.

He is our life.  He is God.  He rose from the grave.  He conquered death.  He died for our sin and intercedes on our behalf.  Thank you Lord for your unspeakable love.

Last night I went to hear a Harvard scholar speak (generally) on science and the Bible."  The subject he chose was the first two chapters of the book of Genesis--which as you know, I am deeply interested in as a Zoologist.  He was an entertaining speaker, but he told us that he was not scientifically qualified.  However, he said that he had many scholar friends who were, and that they had assured him that Evolution Theory was a "slam dunk."  So he said that he had "listened to what they said" and was now a Christian Evolutionist.  One person who changed his thinking was a genome scholar.  (Briefly, the set of genes present in an organism.)

He said we should change what we think about the Bible--to fit science.  And went on to say that  most probably Adam was an analogy of the Israelites, who sinned, were condemned, cast out, etc...and was not a real man at all.  He also said that we should not be defensive about having to question what we had always believed--as if we had been mistaken.

All I can say is that you shouldn't be a speaker on a subject you are not qualified to speak on.  (I think he said his studies were in humanities.)  I have listened to the same arguments over and over again from someone in one scientific field or another, and have come to different scientific conclusions.  If I had listened to a few of them through the years speak with utter conviction, I would have had to change my mind over and over--because their conclusions changed (often) over the last fifty years.

To combine the zoological, statistical, archeological, chemical (carbon dating), biological, astronomical, and a dozen other sciences and understand how they fit together takes a forum of scientists working together.  I was disappointed that he decided that the Genesis account held  no scientific truth, and that he spoke on the subject as if science and the Bible don't fit together.

Instead of changing what we think about the Bible--so that it fits into science, I contend that true, accurate science will always fit into Biblical accounts.  We need to read Genesis for what it actually says and not what we think it says.   I have heard just as many Biblical scholars (who are not scientists) make many incorrect statements out of ignorance of science.

I am disturbed at the direction that the youth of America are heading.  Yes, I know, there are many really good kids out there.  But instead of being raised on the classics--which encourage critical thinking--they are bombarded with trash, throwaway sound bites, five second blips, mesmerizing repetitive video games, porn--I could go on and on.

I am disturbed that so many of them cannot carry on a conversation with a real person standing in front of them.  Their phones are their closest friends.  Communication is with someone they can't see, touch, or read their facial expression or reaction to what is being texted.

I am disturbed at their attitudes toward sex.  I guess I shouldn't be--since they are bombarded by the media espousing sexual gratification with no responsibility.  Recreational sex.  Trivial encounters with no lasting implications that teach the concept that sex is love.  

Women, especially, seem to have lost the concept that they have a God given right to a life partner who will love them and be faithful.  Girls go from one "relationship-that's the new word for sex partner," to another, hoping to find someone to truly love them.

And people, seeking people to love, go to places that people frequent.  Bars, casinos, etc. and end up finding a kind of person who entertains themselves that way.  Trivial entertainment.  Addictive.

But if you want to find someone "real," you need to go somewhere that people are "doing" things together.  Because it is in doing things together that we learn about each other.  Building things, helping out, working, sports--involvement over time--builds a kind of knowledge of each other that leads to lasting friendships.

And the people you meet who "Do" things, will introduce you to other people who do things.  That's one reason I go to church.  They band together to "do" things.  I think I am going to help with Bible School this summer.  I've never done that before.  Maybe I can teach a child how to talk to an adult.

Garage sale was a huge success.  It's done.  Over.  Hallelujah!!   Never again.  That is a fact.  I feel like I have lost ten pounds due to stress over it.  I'll weigh tomorrow and see if I actually did!!!

Sunday, I asked the question, "What is authority?"  Then, "Who has it?"  They got the first question right and finally came up with the right answer to the second one:  "Only those to whom you grant it."  Authority is always granted from the bottom up.  Never from the top down.  Nobody has authority over you unless you personally grant it.

Yes, in many cases refusal to grant authority can cause serious repercussions, even pain.  But it can't make you comply.  You have to decide to do that on your own.

And that is at the heart of the Christian experience.  Christ bids you, "Come and die."  Die to your own will.  Come under His authority.  Make a decision that His will is your will.

I remember when I made a decision to put Christ in authority over my life.  Over seventy years ago.  They were singing the hymn, "I Surrender All."  I didn't have much to surrender at the time, I just remember that that was what I wanted to do. I walked to the front of the church and surrendered.

Later, when I was twenty-three, I realized that I was a sinner.  I confessed that to God and asked His forgiveness.  You would think I would have recognized that fact sooner, but I didn't.  I was one of those kids who always obeyed.  I always tried to do the right thing.

Then when I was twenty-six, I trusted Him.  I didn't know that I had never trusted Him.  Duh.  But I didn't.  I hadn't. I had given my life to Him, but not the lives of my children or my husband.  Where they were concerned, I was always trying to make a "deal" with God concerning their safety.

"Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling," is what Paul said.  You are on a journey for life.  And at the end of your journey, that's what you get.  Eternal life.  Surrender, confess, trust.

Squig was sick during the night.  Every hour to an hour and a half, he had to go outside.  He had been throwing up all afternoon, so I am sure he ate something he shouldn't have eaten.  What it was, I have no idea, but he was one sick puppy.  He had never been sick before, so I wasn't for sure what was going on.  What if it wasn't something he ate?  What if it was something worse?

I felt so sorry for him.  He couldn't tell me what was wrong.  It was like having a baby all over again.  They cry, you feed them thinking they are hungry, but that's not what they want.  They keep crying and you try everything you can think of to do.  And sometimes, nothing helps.  You wait, and there is a fine balance between "How long do I wait to see if they get over it," and "Do I take them to the doctor now."

It takes you a couple of kids before you figure out the answer to those kind of questions.  By the time I had five of them, I pretty well had it down.  But a dog is another kettle of fish.  I've never been on my own with a dog before.  Ken was the dog person.  But Squig, he's not just a dog.  He is my constant companion now that Ken is gone.

I decided that if he wasn't better in the morning, we were going to the vet.  But in the morning, by the time the vet was open, Squig was coming out of it, so I waited...and he got better as the day went on.  But he is worn out.  So am I.  Neither one of us got any sleep.  I finally went to sleep at four in the morning, and my grandson called me at five thirty.  So much for trying to sleep.  He wanted to know what happened to our friend Beaux, if they had found out who killed him.  I told him that they arrested someone today.  A career criminal of course.  A man with a long list of offenses who shouldn't have been on the street.   So sad.

"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  In other words, "One day's troubles are enough for that day.  Don't worry about what is going to happen tomorrow."  There have certainly been enough troubles this week.  You never know what tomorrow will bring--but God does.  He will be there with us through all of our difficulties.

Sometimes something happens that is so horrible that you just can't wrap your mind around it.  There are any number of those occurrences that have happened in my lifetime, but the latest is just unfathomable to me.

Our sweet friend Beaux McGlothlin--actually everybody's friend--who worked in the men's clothing store next to Edmond Antiques, left work Friday as usual, and went home.  When he was supposed to show up on Tuesday morning, as he had faithfully done for twenty-four years, he never came in.

When someone went to his house to find out why he hadn't come to work, he was found--murdered.    Sometime between Friday and Monday--in his own home--which was very safe neighborhood.  But somebody came into his house, killed him, took his car, and left him there.   No one who knew him can imagine who would do such a thing.  He had no enemies.  He was 79 years old and could have retired years and years ago, but he loved people, and loved being a part of the Edmond community.

One more random killing in America.  But this one is different for all of us who knew him.

He loved for us to bring him home cooked meals for lunch.  There is an open door between where he worked and Edmond's Antique store, and he wandered over on a regular basis.  Especially at lunch time.  Becky would tease him and say that he didn't know how to use a microwave.  The last time I took him lunch, he hid it so the other men in his store wouldn't find it and eat it.  He always bought Pam and Becky and me a Christmas present--his way, I'm sure, of saying thanks for the home cooked meals.  Always smiling.  Such a very sweet man.  Such a waste of a beautiful life.

Why do people kill?  What can possibly motivate such cruelty.  And yet, we know it happens.  God warned us with a specific commandment:  "Thou shalt not kill."

I hope they find whoever did this.   And I sincerely hope I am on the jury at the trial.

Last night I went to hear a Jewish speaker who discussed three ways to read the Bible.  As an example, he spoke on the 37th chapter of Genesis.  The story of Joseph's brothers selling him.

He said that the first way was to read the Bible was as literature.  It is interesting as a story in itself.  He took the subject of the hate that Joseph's ten brothers had for him--enough to want him dead--and expounded on how that came about.  Going all the way back to Jacob loving Rachael more that Leah and how that made the 10 brothers feel--and other incidents that led up to this story.  (There were 12 brothers, but Benjamin, the only full brother to Joseph, wasn't there for this incident.)

The second way to read it is devotionally.  What is the meaning of the story that God wants us to discover?  On this, the speaker told of the dreams that Joseph had, and how many many years passed before they were fulfilled.  Joseph was a brat, and had lessons to learn.  He was thrown into a well by his brothers, traded to passing strangers, and taken to Egypt to be enslaved.  Through everything that happened to him, he learned that God was in control of his life, and had a plan that was bigger than Joseph's life.

The third way that the speaker discussed was historically.  He noted the differences in the story as it unfolded and the historical implications of those differences to people who read the Bible as a historical document.  In one place it says that Joseph was sold to the Midianites.  In another it says he was sold to the Ishmaelites.  Perhaps that was because there were two written accounts that were fused.  Perhaps the Midianites sold him to the Ishmaelites, who sold him to Egypt?  But as you look at the Bible as a historical account, you don't always get an answer to the particular question you may have--because sometimes, things aren't explained in full.

The only thing I know for sure is that the Bible is the inspired Word of God.  He speaks to us when we read it.  In Hebrews 10:7, the writer says: "...Lo, I come in the volume of the book.  It is written of Me..." He is quoting Psalms 40:7.  Whether you are a Jew, or a Gentile, God comes through his written word.  As literature, devotion, or history.  It is all true.  Christ is the Messiah.

Even though I hated the loss of my electricity, it came with rain.  Blessed, wonderful water from God.  Oklahoma needs all of the rain we can get.  Last year was a disaster of a drought--and a few weeks ago fire burned up thousands and thousands of acres of grass in western Oklahoma which cattlemen depend on to raise hay for their cattle--many of which were killed in the blazes.

But by the time the electricity came back on, I was so far behind the curve of making breakfast and getting ready and dressed, that I didn't make it to church at 9:30.  Good thing that my class meets after church or I would have missed that as well.  

The garage sale was a huge success.  Becky donated a ton of stuff from her antique booths and one of my class members gave us 30 or so cookbooks that were practically new.  Everyone donated something.  Besides all that, we class members had a blast visiting with each other.  A number of people who came to the sale didn't buy much but made donations to our water-well project.  People can be really good.

We were only open for a few hours, and there was so much stuff left over, that didn't sell, we left it on tables--and we are going to do this again next week.  That will be easy since it is all priced.  Yes, I know, I said I would never, never, never have another garage sale, but this is just a continuance???

Someone asked me where the well was going to be drilled.  To tell the truth, I had never asked the women where it was going.  They had been working on this project for a couple of years before I took the job as their teacher, and I had never thought to ask.  All I could say was, "Africa!"

Someone else asked, "Why don't you help someone here in America."  We had an answer for that.  "We do, we give 10% of our incomes to our church which supports missions all over America--and each Christmas we take up a special offering for foreign missions.  We don't choose Africa over America.  We do both."   Like I said yesterday, we are so blessed in America.  Think how hard it must be to have to tote water for everything that you need because you don't have water in your home.

Got up on Sunday around five, reached down beside the bed for my robe and fuzzy house shoes that Becky bought me in Krakow last month, and flipped on the light switch.  No light.  Checked the thermostat.  No heat.  Found my flashlight and stumbled into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and console myself and of course, my instant hot water tap wasn't hot.  No use in putting a kettle on the stove--my stove is electric.  No tea. 

I finally found matches and candles and lit a few of them, and went out and got the paper.  I don't know what I was thinking, I couldn't read it.  No lamp light.  Frustration.  We are a dependent nation. I personally can't function without water, electricity and gasoline.  Neither can my any of my city friends.  If a terrorist wanted to knock us out, all they would have to do would be to hit a power grid.

I used to visit my grandparents on their farm.  They had a Jersey cow for milk, butter, cheese.  Chickens for eggs and meat.  Pork hanging in the smoke house.  A water well and kerosene lamps.  Gran canned every summer and the cellar was full of everything you could eat for the next year.

But we don't do that anymore.  We get our food in cans, or put it in a refrigerator.  And we are pretty helpless when we lose our water, our gasoline or our electricity.  God has been so good to us that we take it all for granted.

We had our garage sale on Saturday to help a village in Africa build a water well.  But even when they get the well, everybody will have to go tote water back to their home.  America has been blessed by God.  We are spoiled.

The electricity finally came back on.   It had been off for six hours.  I missed church at 9:30.  But made it to teach at 11:00.   I'd get some kerosene lamps, but I'd probably set the house on fire.  I had a big enough problem lighting candles in the dark.

Christ is our light.  We won't have to worry about electricity in heaven.