Words.  They are the substance of our expression to each other.  The more words you know and understand, the better you can communicate.  But if your audience doesn't understand the words you are saying, you lose them.  I am always learning new words.  "Obfuscate" is such a word.  It means to render obscure, unintelligible or unclear.  But "bewilder" is a more common word we use to express that concept.  So I don't use the word "obfuscate" when I write.  I use "bewilder."

I am constantly replacing words when I write.  The purpose is to make what I have written clear--to a greater audience.  Most people aren't word-smiths.  Which brings me to the point of what I am trying to express.  I am currently lost in a world of words that I do not understand.  They are the words that have been created in the last twenty years at such a pace that they are obsolete--before I can learn what they mean.  Computer words--that sometimes aren't words at all--just letters.  I don't know where to start learning.  I am "Obfuscated" when it comes to the language.

CD-rom, or is it C drom?  Digital, analog, PDF, beta, the cloud, etc. etc. Thousands of words and letters that have appeared and then vanished.   I don't even know where to begin learning about them.  Or how to even ask about what I don't understand.  Words just turn up.  Everyone says:  "Get one of your grandkids to help you."  I tried that.  They used words I didn't understand to explain words that I didn't understand.

I am a sequential learner.  I need to start over at the beginning.  Where is that?  How do you start learning about this subject when the words evaporate--are discarded--almost as soon as you learn what they mean.  In my first computer class, we punched cards.  You know, 1101011, etc.

You have to go back to the beginning of the information explosion to try to understand what words came "next" and eliminated the need for the words that are no longer worth anything to the computer language.  That is so strange.  Most language builds on what came "before" and adds to the language.  Computer language seems to eliminate words from their vocabulary because they are no longer worth anything.  I am befuddled by it all.  In my life time, information has exploded.  It is mind boggling.

I hope they speak English in Heaven.

   

Wonderful news!  I took Squig back to the Vet last week and they have revised their theory of what is wrong.  He has lost four teeth around the one he broke and it left pockets in the bone which turned into cysts.  They are almost certain than he doesn't have cancer.  Praise God!  I gave him some fried chicken to celebrate.   I can't even express my joy.

I taught a lesson Sunday on a word that I had never thought much about.  (We are still in Exodus discussing Moses.)  The word is "glory."  What is it?  We talk about the "glory" of God, we sing about it, (Glory came down and heaven filled my soul).  We even have a national song that says, "Glory, glory hallelujah."

But what is it, exactly?

When the Israelites were in the wilderness, God had them build a tabernacle (tent).  He was very exact about the details because they would have to strike the tent every time they moved--toward the promised land.  The pieces had to fit together exactly.  Dove-tail in every joint.

After they finished all the pieces and put them together, God came in a cloud and filled the tabernacle with his "Glory."  You could see it.  And when Moses communed with God, God's glory made Moses' face reflect Him.  It frightened the people.

I decided that the best way I could define the word was to refer to our flag.  "Old Glory."  When we see it waving, or being raised, or over a casket of a fallen soldier, we react to it.  Some of us more than others because of our relationship with the flag.  So I think I would describe the word "Glory" as something reflected (when we look upon it) that takes place in our hearts.

God's glory (reflected upon us) changes us.  He is the light of the world.  And we are to live so that we glorify Him.  Let others see "...Christ in you, the hope of glory."  Colossians 1:27

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your father which is in heaven."  Matthew 5:16









old glory

Summer is over.  I've turned the heat on and got my down comforter out of the linen closet.  It's Friday, garage sale day, and it's too cold to go see what's going on out there.  Probably nothing.  I love to garage sale.  It's like looking for Easter eggs.  A couple of weeks ago I bought a set of sterling silver ear clips (clips date back to the 40's and 50's) inlaid with chunky turquoise--for a quarter.  They are worth more than $150 on the retail market.  That was fun.

I don't keep the stuff.  I guess you could call me a "picker."  I take it all to the antique shop--my daughter's booth--and chalk up the money I spend at garage sales to a day's entertainment.  It's cheaper than a movie.  I don't need more stuff.  I don't want more stuff.   Of course you have to know about "old stuff" to be able to find "old stuff" that others want to buy.  And since I almost qualify as an antique myself,  I know about "old stuff."

For years the market was for "Depression glass."  My Grandmother and Pops had a little grocery store in the 20's, 30's and 40's.  I remember that "Griffin's tea" gave away a green glass when you bought a box of tea.  Other brands did the same.  There were dozens and dozens of patterns of dishes, etc. given away at grocery stores--trying to get you to buy their brand.  After they quit doing that, young women would look for glass patterns in antique stores from the depression--Depression Glass.

My Gran had a lot of it because people would buy the product and not want the glass, or cup, or dish, and leave it on the shelf.  It wasn't worth anything.  Now, a green glass goes for twenty-four dollars--if you can find one.  But you can hardly sell it anymore because people want whatever their grandmother had, and the current trend isn't Depression Glass.  It is--tah dah--tupperware.  That's right.  Tupperware.  And if it is colored, well, that makes it even more collectable.

We buy memories.  Stuff that takes us back to a happy time.   Things that make us feel warm and fuzzy.  I admit, I have an entire set of Depression Glass.  Pink.  My pattern is "Waffle", sometimes called Waterford pink.  But I am missing one piece--a round butter dish.  I could buy it on E-bay for $350.00.  But what's the fun in that.  The reason it is round is because back then, you churned your own butter and shaped it with a round wood butter press.   I've pressed butter at Gran's house that way.   And churned butter.  Memories.  That's what we buy.  

I always feel a certain sadness at this time of year.  The tomatoes and okra are gone.  I should have planted turnips--or some cold weather veggie.  Something I could go outside and pick.  Next year.

I've almost quit listening to the news.  It's all bad.  It seems like every day it is worse than the day before.  I remember when they put Ken and his Marine buddies in a trench in Nevada--1957--and blew up three (yes, three) atom bombs over the top of all of them.  They were less than 1/2 mile away from ground zero.  The government wanted to see what would happen.  Gee.  Duh.  Ken came back to California--where we were living--wondering what would come from the power of such a bomb.

Of course, those Marines in those trenches died, in the coming years, at an alarming rate--from leukemia.

It's been a long time since we've had a nuclear bomb scare.  Or test--until North Korea started rumbling this last year.  I remember them.  Every one.  From Japan, to the Chernobyl reactor fiasco.  I doubt N. Korea has any idea how terrible retaliation with nukes would be--from the USA.  Arrogance kills people.  Mostly innocent ones.  Nagasaki, Hiroshima.  I remember those.  I was seven years old at the time.  I was eighteen when they lit those three over my husband.

I keep thinking about wars and rumors of wars--as the warning in the Bible says.  My grandmother's brother fought in WW1.  He survived physically, but spent the rest of his life sitting on a concrete curb in downtown Heavener, Okla.  In WW1, they had few, if any, dentists for the guys who had abscesses in their teeth.  They were miserable with pain in their mouths.  The answer: hand out paregoric.  Which is highly addictive.  Back then you could buy it over the counter.  Thousands and thousands came back from that war addicted to paregoric.  Back then, nobody cared.  The governmental victims of war.  My great, great uncle was one.  I remember him.  Ruined by the conditions of war.

War.  Guinea pigs from necessity.  So.  Let us pray for peace.   Among each other, peace at home, in our churches, in our nation.   Peace.  

When I'm not "running" with the people of God in my church, I am reading.  Five or six books every week.  And yes, I am a speed reader.  My favorite genre is crime mysteries with a legal gist.  I know, for a person like me that seems to be an oxymoron.  But I like to read about good triumphing over evil.  Truth winning out.  The underdog overcoming adverse circumstances.  The book I just finished has it all.  It even has forgiveness between a son and his father.

It's hard to find a great mystery writer after you have read all of John Grisham's books.  So I asked the OK City Metro Library to send me samples of work in the legal, mystery and crime category.  Authors that I hadn't read.  They have a program for seniors where they mail you books in a purple waterproof zipper bag and you return them postage paid in the same zipper pouch.  It's free.  It's a great service.  I get six books every week.  And I read them.  (I admit that I skim over the descriptions of what a person is wearing, what color the flowers are and most adjectives.)

So many of these writers have sunk to a new low on lurid language, sexual filler, and filth.  Each week for the last month I have rejected most authors.  I call the library, explain why I don't want to read any more of that author's books--and they send me different publications.

Yesterday, I got a book by Todd M. Johnson: "The Deposit Slip."  It was one of the best mysteries that I have read in ages and ages.  I think it is his first book.  He was able to keep my attention for six hours.  I couldn't put it down.  And believe it or not, not a single bad word.  The closest it came was when the bad guy "uttered an expletive."  Without telling me what the expletive was.  Thank you Todd Johnson--I'm tired of the expletives that are now so commonplace in the world.  I'm sick of them.  His plot involved a bank and a wounded veteran.  It was unique.

I've always thought that when you can't speak without cursing, you have a very poor command of the English language.  Mr. Johnson commands the English language.  I called the library, and found that he has a new book out this year--they are mailing it to me.

I had John pull up the rest of the tomatoes and okra--they had quit bearing so I don't have to go pick anything outside.  It has been really cold lately.  I'm going to curl up this afternoon with a book.

On Wednesday nights, I go to teacher's meeting.  There are 10-15 people in the room who have been teaching Bible all their lives.  Some for over 60 years.  They have studied it, explored many translations, and read hundreds of related materials dating back to the time of Christ, and beyond.  They are Biblical scholars.  Well versed.

So when I go, I usually have questions that I think perhaps someone there can answer--questions that should at least provoke discussion.  And I always wait until the session is almost over so I won't disturb the lesson.  Last week my question to them was: "Why do you think that God chose a man like Aaron to be the high priest of the Jewish nation?  He obviously was a man of weak character.

I didn't get a good answer.  So Sunday, I asked my class the same question--and one of the women said: "Why Janie, you have been telling us for weeks that any old bush will do if God is in it."   I hadn't applied that thought to Aaron.  I was pleased that she remembered what I had said about the burning bush.  That it wasn't the bush or the fire that was special, but the fact that God was in it.

God uses flawed people.  We are all flawed.  But if we are willing, God can do his work through us.  The only thing necessary is that we be willing.

After Moses chewed Aaron out in front of the hundreds of Israelites, Moses left Aaron in charge once again while he went back up onto the mountain--where God gave Moses a second set of tablets.  Ten laws that would now govern the people.  And Aaron, bruised, embarrassed and chastised went on to serve in the temple as the intermediary between the people and the sacrifices offered to God for sin.  His own sins included.  He became the man with a Godly purpose that God intended him to be.

God's people are not perfect.  But we band together to do his work.  We are stronger as a group.  And it is easier to be what God wants you to be when you are surrounded by people with the same goals.  As Ken always said: "Tell me who you are running with and I will tell you what you are doing."  Find a church.  "Run" with the people in that church.  Do something collectively in the church that uplifts and strengthens others.   Two are better than one, and a group of people with a purpose can change the world we live in.  Find your purpose with the people of God.

We are still studying Moses in class.  Interesting.  Yesterday, we looked at the events surrounding the first set of commandments.  The set that Moses broke.  But the real lesson ended up being about his brother Aaron.  What a contrast in personalities.

Moses left Aaron in charge of the people.  But after Moses had been gone to the mountain for a long time, the people told Aaron that Moses had deserted them and asked Aaron to make them a god to lead them on to where they were going.  So weak-willed, willie-nillie, want-to-be-popular, wishy-washy Aaron said,"Okay, bring your gold earrings and I will melt them down and fashion a gold calf with fire and a graving tool."  Which he did, and then built an alter in front of it and said, "There, have at it.  Do what you want."  He didn't even say, "Let's wait on Moses one more day."

The people worshiped the golden calf, ate, drank, and played--naked, out of control.  The kind of god that many people today worship.  A "There, have at it" god.  People today are like people in every age.  Prone to wander.  Prone to sin.  Back in the sixties they said, "If it feels good, do it."

But Moses was broken and distressed at what the people had done.  And especially at Aaron.  He asked Aaron, "What did these people do to you to cause you to bring such a horrible sin to them?"  And Aaron lied.  "Hey, cool it.  You know what these people are like.  They brought me a bunch of gold and I threw it all into a fire.  And guess what.  A gold calf came out."  In other words, "Not my fault."  He didn't mention the graving tool he used to fashion the calf--or building and adding an altar.

Moses was a man of integrity.  He was furious.  Aaron was not a man of integrity.  He refused to take responsibility.  God was even more angry than Moses.  God said to Moses, "Let me alone so that my anger can grow.  I'm going to consume and destroy these people and I will make a great nation of you, Moses."  But Moses, being the man that he was, prayed one of the most beautiful prayers in the Bible.  "No, Lord.  Think of what the Egyptians will say.  That you brought these people out of Egypt only to kill them?  Think.  You promised to make a great nation of Abraham, Isaac and Israel (Jacob).
Remember your promise to them  You didn't promise to make a great nation out me.  You need to reconsider what you are saying."  And God did.  Moses, prayed.  God changed His mind.  God listens to the prayers of Godly people.  Godly people with a godly purpose can redirect God's plans!!!

This year has evaporated.  And it has been strange.  I never saw an August in Oklahoma like the one we just had.  It rained and rained.  And there were only a few unbearably hot days.  September vanished in a whirl and October is more than half gone.  The analogy of sand running through your fingers is appropriate.

I had John, the man who helps me in the yard, pull up all the tomato vines.  I bet I have over 100 green tomatoes.  I'm giving them away as fast as I can.  They sit on the counter and ripen faster than I can eat them.  Last year I wrapped them in newspaper and put them in a dark place and still had tomatoes for Christmas.

Too much work wrapping individual tomatoes.  This time, I'm putting some of them in a drawer in the refrigerator and taking them out to ripen as I need them.  We'll see if that works.  The okra has about quit bearing.  Not enough sun.  I always hate to pull the stalks up.  It seems so final.  The cycle of life.  Winter is coming.

I am using seed from okra that my dad used years and years ago.  I always leave a few pods on the stalks to dry out so I have seed for next year.  And think of my dad.  He and Scott and I were the only gardeners in the family.  Now it's just me and Scott--out of 35 or more immediate members.  What's wrong with all of those people!!

They have asked me to do a marimba concert at one of the Senior Citizen communities.  My choir sings there twice a year and I usually play a song or two on the marimba for them.  But an entire concert would leave these old wrists and hands in a pickle.   I guess I could play--until I couldn't--and call it a concert?  Who would have thought that something I learned to do at the age of 14 would still be something I could do at the age of 79?

It is a good thing to be able to function.  We take it completely for granted when we are young.  I think my mind is okay.  Would someone out there tell me when it isn't?

I have seen people healed through prayer.  Miraculously.  I remember a young child who was in the last stage of dying from cancer.  I was at the hospital with his mother, who was in a class that I taught.  We were waiting by the child's bed for him to take his last breath, when she begged me to pray for him that he would be healed.  I did.  But I didn't feel like it was going to happen through my prayers alone.  I called a friend of mine, explained the situation and asked her to pray as well.  She was a real "Prayer warrior."  She then called everyone she knew to start praying.  Probably over fifty people.

The child got better.  He lived to his teens.  There was no doubt that God answered the prayer.  But there have been other times that the case came out differently.  I don't think someone can say, "I'm going to pray for this person to be healed and if I believe they will be healed (name it and claim it) then they will be."  It doesn't depend on how much faith you have.  It depends on God.  He decides.
How little, or how much faith you have is not the issue.  There is nothing wrong with you.  You don't have to "Rev up your faith" to get God to listen.  If you are a Christian, you simply go to God and ask--knowing that He will intervene if it is in accordance with His will.  He does hear us.

Even Jesus had a healing "difficulty."  It certainly wasn't due to Jesus' lack of faith.  Jesus had total and complete faith in the Father.  In Mark 8: 22-26, a blind man was brought to Jesus.  His friends asked Jesus to touch him.  Jesus took him out of the village (away from the public view) and spit (!) on his eyes, put his hands on him, and asked the man if he could see.  The man answered and said," I see men that look like trees walking."  (I don't see clearly.)  So Jesus put his hands on the man's eyes again, and told him to look up.  He did and was healed.  (Read Keith Miller's "A Second Touch.)

Was it the spit?  Was it Jesus' hands?  Was it because Jesus touched him a second time?  Or was it because the man looked up?  Is there power in the method used?  Of course not.  Otherwise we would all be telling people to "Leave town.  Let me spit on you.  Now, I have to touch you twice--once won't do the job.  After that, you have to look at the sky and then you will be healed."   That would be the Church of "leave town, spit, touch twice, and look up."  The method is not the reason the man was healed.  Jesus didn't use a programed "method."  Sometimes God gives us what we ask for.  The secret is that you need to ask.  There are a number of incidents in the Bible where God changed His mind about something.  Why?  Because one of his children asked. That's when God decides.  

I told you that I read every day.  Today I am finishing a book from a "Name it and claim it" group.  Unless you want a course on how to "Raise people from the dead," I'd say you should definitely skip it.  I said I would read it for a friend before I realized what it was about.

These groups believe that you can heal anybody from any disease, and  that you need--you must-- rise to a higher level of Christianity by speaking in "tongues."  In other words, your salvation depends on how much faith you have.  If you don't heal someone from their sickness, or if you don't speak in tongues, there is something wrong with you.  Your faith is not complete.

I am always suspect of any teaching that adds something to the concept of "Saved by Faith and the Grace of God."  Jesus paid it all.  There is nothing more than that.  There is nothing you can "do" to improve on your salvation.  Jesus said you only needed the faith of a mustard seed.

The word "tongue" in the Bible always refers to language.  And at the time it was written, getting the good news out was difficult because of language barriers.  There is a record of someone speaking and another person understanding even though they were of two language groups.  When God needs someone to hear the gospel message, He can make that happen.  John said in his second letter that if anybody comes with another message than the gospel, don't listen to them or give them God speed.

The Bible says "gifts" were given.  There were many gifts people had, just like today.  But babbling so that God can better understand you better isn't one of them.  "Behold the Lord's arm is not shortened that He cannot save you, nor His ear heavy that He cannot hear you..."  God hears your every word.  You need to talk to Him about what concerns you.  Tell Him that you love Him.  He is waiting to listen in whatever language you speak.  Mine is English.

Some people are convinced that there is something "more" than a relationship with God through faith in Jesus.  They will cut to the chase of "healing and tongues" within minutes of meeting you.  I prefer to talk about redemption.  And what the fruit of the Spirit really is:  Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance.  If you have those nine qualities, you are growing in His Spirit.  Speaking in tongues is not mentioned.

The plan for redeeming people from the mess they are in is simple.  And like I said yesterday, "It's free."  The neat part is that it is in your own best interest.  Since God made you, He knows what will be best for you in the long run.  Problem is, most of his creation lives in the short term.  Doing what's fun this moment.  I always like to tell what one of my co-workers used to say to the juniors and seniors that we taught in their class at our church:

"Sin is fun.  If it wasn't, It wouldn't be any temptation at all.  But it is only fun in the moment.  There is a price to pay for it that Satan doesn't want you to know about.  That price has to be paid."  And will be paid in full--by you--later.  It is eternal death."

There is a verse in Scripture that we all know:  "For the wages of sin is death..."  The people that received that message from Paul knew exactly what he meant.  But we have lost something in the translation of the word "wage."

A wage was a piece of paper given to the Roman soldier.  It was worthless out in the field.  It could only be "redeemed" in Rome.  There, when the soldier returned home, he could submit his "wage" paper and turn it into money--issued by the Roman government.  The "wage" would then paid to him.  It was always paid later, after he returned to Rome--not while he was in another country.  So when Paul said that "the wages of sin is death," he was saying, in his letter to the Romans, that there would be a payday for their indulgences--someday.  And that the wage (payment) for sin was death.

Sin destroys us.  From the inside out.  I'm not just talking about theft, adultery, murder, etc.  All of those things you have done--that ultimately hurt yourself and others--will destroy what God wants you to be.  Those sins, disobedience to God, will always have to be paid for.

So, for whatever you have done, there is a wage that will be paid.  But Jesus has redeemed your wage.  He made a choice and died for your sin.  I have no idea why.  We are worthless.  But God loved us, saw what we could be if He lived inside us.  So that someday, when we turn our "wage paper" at his throne, he will redeem it with eternal life.  I have said before:  "What a deal."  Just for believing in Him and giving him your life, you get a wage that is absolutely priceless.

I am trying to type and Squig is on my left, licking my hand.  Why?  I don't know.  Maybe he needs attention.

Every time I try to do something positive, something negative occurs.  Well not negative necessarily.  Perhaps distracting would be a better word.  Squig is definitely distracting me.

This morning, I decided to do something that I have put off for two years.  Iron.  I needed a red shirt and all of my red shirts needed to be ironed.......so......I set the board up, heated up the iron and got after it.  But the doorbell rang.  It was my next-door neighbor's granddaughters who always come see me when they are here.  That was a real instance of "Saved by the Bell."  I turned off the iron and said a short prayer:  "Thank You."  I got seven shirts ironed, however.

And I'm not going to take the ironing board down.  There isn't that much left to do.  I guess that you have figured out that I don't like to iron.  But I do like to finish what I start.

The problem is, I have too many red shirts.  Every time there is an estate sale, when it is over, in the last few minutes, items can be purchased by "bid."  The managers try to get rid of every thing that is left--sometime in the last hour of the sale.  They are obligated to sell as much as they can for the owners.  I got a pair of red loafers in the box at the last sale that had never been worn.

I love bargains.

The greatest bargain out there today is eternal life.  It's free.  It has already been bought and paid for.  God wrapped Himself up in flesh, named Himself Jesus, and died for all the mistakes you ever made. And He didn't pick and choose who could have it.  He gave it as a gift to all of us.  All you have to do is give Him your will power and let Him direct your paths--which is always in your best interest.

Go get yours.  Best deal you'll ever find.

It's 2:30 in the afternoon and I just realized I didn't post.  I have such a rigid system of the order in which I do what I do every morning, that if I skip a step, I don't know it.  So why would I go back to check--because I know I must have done it.  But I didn't.  And I don't know why I didn't.  I just somehow skipped a step--which seems impossible to me.

It reminds me of a story Ken told me once about forgetting steps.  He said that every time you came in for a landing, you had a series of steps that you would go through.  The series was exact, and done in a certain order.  You always did it the same way.  A check list.  So that if you were on step five, you could be positive that steps one through four were already done.

But in combat, especially if you got hit, (which he did--over eight times) you had an entire set of other steps you were trying to integrate into your check list--did my fuel tank get hit, etc.  Needless to say, almost every pilot had an experience when they could barely control the circumstances they were dealing with.

So on a clear day, stateside, in good weather, with no adverse circumstances, forgetting to lower your wheels was not probable.  When the tower notified you that your wheels were up, you knew that the tower was wrong--because you had completed your landing check list which included lowering your wheels.  But it happened.  And it happened often enough to pilots who thought it would never happen to them, that everybody checked themselves over again on their landing list.

I failed to check myself today and landed wheels up.  I forgot to post.

Some pilots landed wheels up because they were so sure of themselves that they failed to believe the tower.  Bad choice.

So failing to post reminded me of that story Ken told a group of us one time.  However, my failure didn't cost anyone their life.

Squig is lying in the recliner by my side peacefully allowing me to scratch his ears.  All is well today.      In two weeks, I'll know more.

If you are on Facebook, read Glenn Baker's account of being arrested.  It is terrible what the system did to him.  He is a sweet person who was accused of stealing in one state and locked up in another-- and although eventually proved innocent, and the charges dropped, he spent months in jail.

The most important thing I learned from his video is you need to memorize some telephone numbers so that if you are ever arrested, you can call somebody.  By the time they let him have his phone back, it was dead and he couldn't get a number to call.  He was trapped, and nobody knew where he was.  For weeks and weeks his family had no idea what had happened to him.

Back when I was a kid, we memorized everyone's number.  Of course, they were almost all three or four digits in Pryor.  Now I don't know a single number of anyone.  I'm going to memorize a number or two, because if this could happen to a person like Glenn, it could happen to any of us.

I have found myself--as of late--becoming jaded about some of the things going on in our world.  There is so much poverty, murder, child-abuse, assault and robbery, embezzlement, elder abuse, political greed and general evil going on, that it is hard to wrap my mind around it all.

There is so much of it that I wonder how one person like me can make a difference.

Then I remember the words of Jesus, and that what He called us to do was always connected to our own neighborhood.  Feed the poor, help the downtrodden.  I can't save the world, but I can feed the poor that I know and see.  I can take an active part in trying to correct injustice in my town.

The news media is bombarding us with stuff we can't do anything about.  It gets discouraging.  Figure out something you can do.  Then do it.  Sometimes listening is all a person needs from us.  

The Vet wanted to keep Squig overnight.  That was part of why I didn't sleep.  The other part was worry.  Yes, I know, Christians aren't supposed to worry, but if you are like me, I wonder if you have that part perfected either?  I'm much better than I used to be.  Usually.  Working on it.

So, yesterday when I went to pick Squig up, the Vet sat down with me and discussed what he had found.  He had two other doctors look at the X-rays and they have somewhat revised their opinions as to what could be wrong.  Now they think it is 40/60 not 50/50.  They have backed off a little on the cancer diagnosis, and don't want to do a biopsy until the stitches are out and the gums have healed.

They said there are two other possibilities as to what the problem might be.  Praise God for small victories.  I'm going to count that as 33.33...%.  (Being mathematical, 1 out of 3.)   Everyone I know was praying for Squig.  Thank you.  Friends are the best thing in the world.   Some people would say I am silly praying for a dog.  That's okay.  You don't get it.  Scott e-mailed me to remind me of what I did to his dog years ago--back when I didn't "get it" about dogs.

He said I called the pound to come pick his dog up.  I'm sure it was because Scott wouldn't take care of the dog?  I don't remember.   If it's true that I did such a horrible thing, it must have accomplished what I intended because Scott remembers it.  And I would have never done such a thing if I hadn't been sure it was for only an overnight stay--because I knew the man who worked the pound.  Pryor was a very small town.  Everybody knew everybody.

That wasn't the only time I called the city over something Scott did.  When he was 10 he got a BB gun--along with instructions as to a zillion things he was told not to shoot.  I forgot street lights.  I personally took him downtown to the mayor--who was also a friend of mine--so that the mayor could explain the "Way of the Lord" to Scott.  Along with a plan for Scott to pay for the street lights.

Everybody has days that are sad.  Days that are confusing.  Difficult.  Problematic.  You can't escape difficult times.  You just have to live through them.  Put one foot in front of the other and head in the right direction.  Plod until you can walk.  Walk until you can run again.

It's heading in the wrong direction that makes things worse.  Suffering and sadness are a part of life.  But knowing that God is with you makes it bearable.  He suffered, too.

I have been suffering sadness today.  Super sadness.  It's tough.  I think it is harder than physical pain.  No, I know it is harder than physical pain.  There is no pill you can take to cure sadness.

I took Squig in to have a tooth extracted that he had broken, and the Doctor called and said, "I have bad news.  When I went into the bone to remove the roots of the tooth, the bone was like a sponge, full of holes, he probably has cancer.  It's 50/50 in my opinion. Do you want to do a biopsy?

That was not what I expected.  I thought they were calling to and tell me to come get him.  I didn't sleep last night.  And of course I am praying to God every five minutes to let it be the good part of the 50/50, not the bad.  I said, Yes! Do the biopsy.  I want to know the thing I don't want to know.

Your mother loves you and expects you to be the best you can be.  Your dog thinks you already are.  No matter when, or how long I am gone, Squig is ecstatic to see me when I return.  I pick him up, cradle him in my arms and he lays his head in the crook of my neck and trembles all over.  He loves me.  He trusts me.  He is my friend.  He thinks I am wonderful.

My prayer is, "Lord help me to be the person that my dog thinks I am."

I never had a dog before that was mine.  Squig is mine.  I am his as well.

If the news is bad, I won't do chemo.  I've had chemo, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially a dog.  Especially Squig.  I don't want him to suffer.  But sometimes suffering is the path before us.  Sometimes we just can't escape it.  "Tis better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all."

Tonight I am going to a lecture by a man who is supposed to be an expert on Genesis.  We'll see.  So far, every time I have gone to listen to a Genesis expert, I've been disappointed.  But there is always a chance that I will learn something new.  I've been at this for over fifty years now.

The thing that bothers me about the dyed in the wool "He did it in six days--end of discussion" ideology, is that it leaves science out of it.  There seems to be a distrust of scientific discovery.  The fact that the rotation of the earth determines what a day is, and the fact that the rotation has been proved to have changed from time to time through the ages, (which means that a day is not necessarily 24 hours) seems to scare some Christians.  "God said it, I believe it, that settles it" doesn't seem to allow for exploration into the second way that God speaks to us.

I always start my lectures with the question:  "What are the two ways that God has communicated with mankind?"  Everybody gets the first one:  His words, the Bible.   But very few ever come up with the second one:  "The heavens declare (speak) the glory of God...day unto day utterly speech...there is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard." Psalms 19

Verse after verse in the Bible tells us about God talking to us in creation, in the world, in the skies, in life on earth.  But many Christians are afraid of the scientific words of God.  They seem to think that science--the physical world--will contradict the written account--the Bible.   It won't.  They support each other.

God doesn't speak out of both sides of His mouth.  I find it exciting when a scientific or archeological discovery sends me back into the Bible to explore the written word.  I have never found a discrepancy between the two.  God's words in the physical world will always concur with his words in the written world.  No need to be afraid of science.  God invented it.

Last night was the last night of my publishing class.  I've got to find another one.  I'm all revved up to write.  I just have to find something to write about.  I truly enjoyed meeting the other writers.

I'm so enthused about it that I started digging things out of drawers that I had previously written--things I had started--back in the dark ages before computers.  Things I ended up quitting  in the middle of the process because the process was so irritating.  The thing that amazed  me was that I had the patience to put things on paper at all.  Without spell-check or automatic return--I had to use the return lever for every line, etc., etc.  Writing is so amazingly much easier now.  Back then, I didn't even have an electric typewriter.  It was all finger intensive.

And when I made a mistake, I had to trash that piece of paper and start over.  Until they invented correction tape--then later, correction liquid with a little brush.  Now when I make a mistake, it is automatically corrected.  The words automatically wrap to the next line.  It is amazing.   No typewriter ink-spool-tapes that have to be changed.  No carbon copy paper.  And I have a printer, a duplicator--all automatic.  It's a miracle.

My daughter took me to the Apple store and wouldn't let me look at the prices until I had picked out exactly what I wanted and handed the sales person my credit card.  I thought I would pass out when I got the receipt.  But it has been the best investment I ever made.

Someone asked me why I drive a 99 Lincoln and I said, "Because it still runs.  Why would I want to spend money on another car when I have a perfectly good one sitting in the garage?"  But the same is not true for laptops.  This Apple Mac is so far ahead of my old computer--the old one isn't even in the ball park.

I've come a long way, baby.  Most people won't even know what I'm talking about when I say carbon paper, whiteout, ink tape, return lever, or such things.  I'm happy for them.  They missed the hard part.  I'm going to start transcribing all that paper and pencil stuff to digital format.

 I no longer have a reason to stop writing.  I have no excuse.  It's all so easy now.

Some people make me weary.  Especially when I can't graciously get away from them.  You know the type.  They talk about themselves.  They talk about their superior children.  They talk about the latest cruise they've taken or where they are going on vacation in Europe.  They talk about their latest new car, or house, or watch, or dress, or boat, etc., etc.  They talk about their political views as if they are God inspired.  Both sides claim God's endorsement on every issue that comes up.

I like to be around people who talk about ideas.  Even if I don't agree with them.  Give me someone who can hold up their end of a conversation without being belligerent or rude.  Someone who can listen to another person's point of view and reexamine their own--or even intelligently explain their own view.  Someone who can think outside the box and doesn't need a soapbox.

I like to listen to people who know their facts, and who do not regale you with opinions that aren't based on anything that is relevant.  Opinions based on emotion drive me nuts.

I don't much care what your feelings are about a subject.  I do care what you do about it.  Talk, talk, talking about what you "feel" is exhausting and doesn't help me progress in an intelligent direction.

All this protesting that is going on is just wind blowing.  Nothing these protesters, on either side, (especially on Facebook) are doing is changing or helping any of the current problems.  Do something constructive to make a difference, or help someone, and I'll get on board and help you do it.  Doing something is a million times better than "feeling" something.

I am reminded of the "love chapter" in the Bible: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,  part of which says, "...if I speak...and don't have love, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal...love does not behave itself unseemly, does not seek for itself, is not puffed up, is not easily provoked..."

Some of these people who are arguing with each other need to take a "nice" pill or two or three.   There are a lot of tinkling cymbals out there.  Clanging brass.  Making noise.  Nothing else.

Where is "Miss Manners" when we need her?

People find things they like to do.   I always loved jigsaw puzzles,  ring twist puzzles, mazes, and those "find six differences in a picture" puzzles.  If you have to figure something out that is visual, I want to do it.  Every morning when I get up, I do the sudoku, the ken-ken puzzle, the cryptograms and the crosswords.  Breakfast and getting dressed are way down on the list.

Do the things you love to do first--so you will be sure to get to them!! If you are lucky, you get to do them and call it "work."   I just naturally fell into love with mathematics and got to teach that subject as a career.  It was so much fun.  And I think fun is infectious.  If you are enjoying what you are doing, chances are it will rub off on those around you.

I always gave my students extra points if they could bring me a comic strip from the newspaper that was about math.  There are thousands of them.  A week seldom goes by that some comic strip isn't about math.  I would keep all the ones they brought me, put them in a weekly format and run them off for everyone in the class.  I'm sure that broke a copyright rule of some sort--I don't remember thinking about that at the time.

I just wanted to show them that they weren't alone if they felt like they couldn't learn math.  It is a universal dilemma.   The fact is that some people don't like puzzles, but you can learn the secret to doing them.  It may not be natural, but I know you can do them because for over 20 years I taught thousands of students (who had failed the subject in high-school) how to do algebra--which is a puzzle.  There is always a sequence to doing a puzzle.  You just have to follow the sequence.

It was fun watching students succeed at something they thought they couldn't do.

God gave us different interests.   I told you yesterday that I couldn't learn Italian.  I guess I should have said that languages don't come naturally to me.  But if you dropped me in Florence and left me there for a month or two, I bet I could learn to communicate on a basic level out of necessity.

I'm glad God made us different.  It makes life interesting.

The only thing I didn't seem to be able to learn was Italian.  After I retired, I took three different classes in Italian, and I've been to Italy three times as well.  But I  don't remember a single word except "Telefono."  Telephone.  Italian doesn't seem to stick to my brain.  I made an A in all three classes, but it is a meaningless grade.  It just means that I can follow directions.

When I was teaching at NEO, I could arrange my classes so that when I wasn't teaching a class, I could enroll in something on campus that I hadn't taken before.  Which I did.  Every semester I took something.  I completed all of the engineering classes that way.  Eng. Physics I and II.  Statics and Strengths, Dynamics, etc., etc. And then took sabbatical and went to OSU and took upper devision engineering classes as well.

What was I thinking!!  I was way past my mid forties and still enrolling in classes for the fun of it.  One day, I was driving back to Pryor from Stillwater and it occurred to me that I had never decided what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I didn't want to be promoted.  I loved the classroom, and being the head of some department--which would be the next step in a career path--sounded like being sentenced to a torture chamber.

I was in my fifties.  Once I started college, I had never taken a break--mainly because if you took six hours for credit every semester without taking a break, you didn't have to pay back your student loans.  So that's what I did.

I was lucky, in that, Ken encouraged me to do whatever I wanted to do.  And also, that I didn't have to get a job when I was in my twenties and thirties--so I could go to school any time I wanted to.  That was a blessing.  The only difficult part was raising four children while driving 55 miles to work every day and being home when they were.  I managed.  It all worked out.

So here I am.  seventy-nine years old.  Enrolled in a class--it's probably an incurable sickness.  But it makes life really interesting.

I like people.  I like to watch them.  I like to be around them.  I like to listen to them express themselves.  If another class in publishing is offered, I am going to take it--simply to be around the people who are interested in writing.  I have truly enjoyed this class and the people I've met.

I probably have over 300 college hours.  It takes 130 (as I recall) to graduate from college with a Bachelor of Science.  I have two of those, and also a Master's.  I am an educated idiot.  I know just enough about a lot of things to be dangerous.  But enough to carry on a conversation with almost anyone for five minutes.  Longer than that and I'm busted.

Why do I have so many college credits??  Well, I started going to college to find out what the scientific world knew "for sure" about evolution theory.  I was teaching high school seniors at my church and they were asking me questions that I couldn't answer.  One thing led to another.

I got an academic scholarship that paid for tuition and books, so I enrolled in whatever was offered from 9AM to 3PM--any course that I hadn't previously taken.  If it was on the schedule between 9 and 3,  you name it, I took it.  As long as tuition and books were covered, I just kept going. Which has been forever.

My counselor was frustrated with me, because he wanted me to take specific classes--but I had four kids couldn't leave the house before 8:30AM, and needed to be home by 3:30PM.  I had to get them off to school in the morning and be there when they came home that afternoon.

Eventually, I would get one or two classes away from a degree, so I would switch majors.  Just to keep from graduating.   I would pick a different major, get a new counselor, and start taking their stuff.  I loved the classroom.  I loved learning.  I didn't want to graduate as long as it was paid for.  But I finally had to graduate because I couldn't keep from it--I was tapped out.

I am flawed, however.  I don't enjoy a subject very much unless I have a teacher.  I need someone to expect something from me.  That is one of the reasons I am enjoying this class I am taking.  There is a teacher.  I am the student.  I get to listen, learn, and interact with people.  Perfect.