Spent last night in two different emergency rooms.  So I didn't get to bed until 4:00 AM.  I will detail soon.  I'm alive and kicking.  But have to have a bunch of tests.  Bummer.  Too tired to write. 


Carotid artery.  Maybe it's an aneurism.  Nobody seems to be sure. CT scans seem to indicate that No--it isn't.  But it's something very similar.  Tests and more tests next week.  Which I don't have time for because I am teaching Bible School all week.

I do not like having my life interrupted by nonsense.  But this seems to be serious.  Oh, well.  

My only prayer was "Please God, let me finish this second book."  

Anything else would be gravy. 

The worst part was that since I didn't sleep for over 24 hours, I was too tired to go garage sale-ing with Ann.

The doctor said that my extremely high blood pressure was because I was frightened.  I told him that wasn't true because I don't, and didn't get frightened--which is true.  I am calm in a crisis.  I never did get excited.  Just tired.  He finally listened to me.

I want to keep my brain and my fingers so that I can type and think. 

God gets to decide what happens to me.  I just have a few requests.

My air conditioner quit.  I figured I was going to have to replace it, but my air conditioner guy, "Fred," came out, spent an hour on it, and Wa-lah! It was working agin.  He wouldn't give me a bill because he said he didn't do anything. I wasn't going to let that happen.  I gave him and his partner cash.  They didn't want to take it, but I told him I wouldn't call him next time if he didn't take the money.  He finally agreed. (The Bible says the workman is worthy of his hire.)

So since they were such a blessing to me, I told them that I was going to bless them.  I, asked them if they were Christian men.  They said yes.  (No surprise since they were so nice to come help me within an hour of when I called them and then didn't want to charge me).  I had them come into the family room and I played hymns for them on my BIG marimba.  ( I don't travel with it because it is so large and hard to break down.)

They loved it.  And when I finished, one of them asked me if I knew this Willie Nelson song.  I didn't, but he broke out his phone and played a line or two.  He said it was his favorite song.  It was "I'll Fly Away."  I had never played it, but I knew the tune, gave it a go, didn't make any mistakes.  He was happy.

I always try to play for the workmen that come to the house.  They always ask me to play more.  It's a blessing for me to be able to play.  It has been sixty-seven years since I took lessons, and I never stopped.  Who would have known that it would have lasted that long.

I have a small marimba in the trunk of my car--in seven pieces.  And when I go with the choir to sing for retirement centers, etc., all the guys in the choir bring a piece of the marimba in from the trunk of my car, and I put it together.  A couple of times in the program I'll play.  When we are done, I break it down, and they carry it out.  I don't know if I could keep it up if I didn't have help.  It's not easy to transport like a guitar or a horn.  To God be the glory.

I've seen some "firsts" in my lifetime, but this "first" is a catastrophe.  Water, water everywhere.  The Arkansas not just over its banks, but spreading over the  land.  People flooded who never dreamed of floods in their neighborhoods.  And didn't insure against them.  This is so sad.  People losing everything.

I am high and dry, but every night when the news comes on, it just gets worse and worse.  Oklahoma has never seen rain like this.  Tornadoes, yes.  This kind of flooding, no.  It will be a long time before we recover from this.

Every homeowner in my area has 100% hail damage on their roofs.  I do.  All my neighbors do as well.  And the roof damage covers dozens of square miles.

Oklahoma seems to be a constant disaster area.  If it isn't one thing, it's another.  Come winter, it will be ice storms that break trees and sleet storms that make the roads treacherous. 

That old saying that Oklahomans repeat has never been more true:  "If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute."

I have a bag packed with critical items to take across the street when the sirens blow, and they have sounded off twice this week already.  All the TV stations are in "Weather mode."  You might as well forget about your favorite show because all you are going to get on TV is the track of the latest tornadoes.  Where they are going to hit, when, and what's coming next.

But I am glad we have such terrific coverage.  It sets your mind at ease when the sky looks ominous.  We've come a long way in weather forecasting.

You have to be tough to live in Oklahoma.  God bless us all.

Yesterday was the celebration of Memorial day.  Not only do I appreciate and revere the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice, but those who live in the aftermath of wounds that are unspeakable.  And those whose lives are forever torn apart by the mental wounds of war.  Wounds from each and every war we have sent men and women to fight. 

The reason Viet Nam was such a divisive war at home was because of the draft. The effect was that every family lived in dread of the draft and the war touched people across the board of the country.  Young people rose up in protest at the entire idea of being sent to fight a war they didn't want to fight.  They won.

We are in a peculiar military situation at this time in our history.  We haven't declared war this time.  Never before have we seen the kind of war we are in.  Undeclared.  And fought by mercenaries--people recruited to fight war.  This war has been going on for years and years and years.  No draft.  No equal exposure across America.  A war that only affects a few, not the whole nation.  People are irritated, but not at risk.  To be at risk, you have to sign up with the military.

It is unprecedented.  Nobody who takes part in this battle knows what the objective is--they don't know when they have won.  Or lost. They just keep going back overseas again and again waging war against Who?  What? Destroying but not conquering.  Trying to scoop up water with a pitchfork.

The people who are fighting this war--mostly young men--weren't called to serve a grateful nation.  No, they joined.  They walked into a recruiting station and took a job.  They go fight; return home, only to be sent back again and again and again.  It is no wonder PTSD is rampant.  

This will go on forever unless we declare war against somebody, something, somewhere, and institute the draft.  Then the people of America will speak.  

Friday, I had to drive myself to Tulsa for an appointment.  When I headed back to Okla. City on the Turnpike, I listened to a speaker who spoke from questions the audience called in.  The question he covered was:  "Can a Christian serve in the military."  He covered the subject in a way that was totally new to me.  He said that war is waged in three arenas by Christians.

1. On the personal level:  We are to render good for evil.  Turn the other cheek. Forgive seventy times seven. He quoted dozens and dozens of scriptures instructing individuals not to be violent.  To be peaceful.

2. On the church or congregational level:  We are to repudiate evil.  Stand up for what is right.  Spread the truth.  Defy liars.  Defend the weak and helpless.

3. On the national level:  We are to go to war against evil.  The speaker made the point that the entire Old Testament coverage of wars was about national actions.  Israel was ordered to go to war against nations that worshiped idols, that sacrificed their children on sacrificial altars, etc.  The nation of Israel was given instructions to conduct war--not the individuals.

I was surprised that I had never put all of that together.  But it is right there in the Bible in clear text.  Because the instructions to the individual were peaceful, I was fuzzy on the subject of being verbal in refuting non-truths in the world--but refuting non-truth is what you and I do as a member of a church.  A church is a group of believers who spread the truth of the Gospel.

And of course, I believe that as a nation there are wars--WW II as an example--that must be fought.  Ken said,"As a Marine, I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States of America--who is elected by the people of our nation."  Ken was a Bible teacher, Deacon, Christian Marine.  God bless our service men and women.  God bless our nation and lead us to righteousness.  

My friend Jeanette came over and brought Squig some brown rice and Squig said, "I've been about to starve.  Why did it take you so long to get here?"  And ate the brown rice and asked for more.

Go figure.  His nose was turned up at canned food, dry dog food--which he has eaten all of his life--and baked chicken breast!!  He was waiting on Jeanette to come feed  him--it's the only thing I can figure out.  When she comes over she pets him the entire time.  Maybe he was just tired of me coaxing him to eat.  Who knows the mind of a dog.  Any way, the crisis seems to be over.

I've been reading the letters of Paul again.  I started with the first letter to the Corinthians, and have worked my way through to Hebrews--which no one knows who wrote.  I am amazed how many verses were permanently in my head.  I would come across a memorized verse and it was like finding an old friend.

I can't seem to memorize very well any more.  I think my brain is full of stuff that is no longer relevant and I've run out of space?  Things I want to remember don't seem to know where to go.  Short term memory, or permanent?  If I could clear stuff out of my permanent memory that is no longer useful, I would have more room for new stuff.

Stuff like using the shift bar on a manual typewriter.  And loading a reel to reel tape recorder.  And a million other things.  Four on the floor. etc.  My hand occasionally has a mind of its own as it reaches to do something like a typewriter shift to the next line, or put the car in second gear.

The only thing I wish I could remember at this point is the "addresses" of those scriptures I found.  But thank God for Google.  The scripture is memorized in my head and Google knows the address so I can usually find what I want to use.  That works.  The biggest problem with memory is finding where I left my phone.

It got worse before it got better.  Squig was listless all day long--unable to find his spunk.  I finally called the vet again and made an appointment for today because he wouldn't eat.  Anything.  Chicken breast--no.  He wouldn't even sniff.  I tried everything on his "approved" list.  He wasn't going to eat anything.  And didn't.  Which finally got me really, really worried.  I couldn't think of anything else.  Thank God for friends that kept calling to check and encourage.

So I cooked some rice.  He had eaten rice in the past.  So......maybe.  And last night before we went to bed, he ate a spoonful or two of rice and drank some water.  Finally.  I was so relieved.

When you are my age, you have lost so many people in your life (and Squig is people) that you know what the "Left Behind" feeling feels like.  I wasn't ready for that.  He is the one constant-every-single-day companion in my life.

They say that when you have a wonderful long life--into your eighties, you are like the last leaf on the tree as far as the people of your past.  You've outlived them all.  Which is good--because you are alive, and in good health.

But the downsize is that there aren't hardly any people who remember what you remember.  I am a child of WWII.  It broke out right after I was born, and wasn't over until I was almost ten.  I was surrounded by the people of the "Greatest Generation."  That was my normal.  Every day was "The War."

Korea and Vietnam and mid-Asia wars haven't touched the way we live here in America for the most part (excluding 9-11)  In WWII there were shortages of the necessities of life every day.  You couldn't buy anything if you didn't have a ration coupon.  Everyone experienced hardship--it was our normal.  I miss those people.  Times were really hard.  But people were good.  I'm here.  I'm tired of losing people.  But I have new people in my life, and I bless God for that.

Squig isn't eating.  Period.  The canned meat the vet gave him is untouched.  So  they gave him some scientific dry food--and he won't eat that either.

He picked the dry food pebbles out of his bowl, carried them into the family room and deposited each pebble on the carpet.  "This stuff tastes terrible."  That's what he was telling me in doggie language.

At least he feels well enough to let me know he hates the food the vet gave him.  He likes "Blue" dog food.  No cheap stuff.  And the vet food is twice as expensive as the "Blue."

Squig has a mind of his own.  And I've been saying that he isn't very smart because he won't fetch.  Guess he told me.  Probably wonders why I keep throwing his toy and saying,"Fetch."  He will go get it----he just won't return it to me.  He probably thinks I'm the one who is stupid.

I don't know how long he can not eat.  I'm going to call the vet later today if he hasn't eaten anything, and ask what to do.  She said I could give him baked chicken breast.  I'll try that first.  He just can't have fat.  Something to do with the pancreas.  He only weighs 12 pounds so he can't lose weight!

My friend Kathy (Pryor-Kathy) called to check on him.  She's a nut case about her dog as well.  Her solution was to get a second dog--Boo.  Now she is a nut case over two dogs.  I've thought about doing that as well, but I would end up being a double nut case as well.  

I have never understood why whales can live over a hundred years, and a dog's span is so short--twelve or thirteen years--when it is obvious that God created dogs for human beings to love.  And vice versa.  Dogs, and humans.  A dog is absolutely man's best friend.  Woman's as well. 

Pancreatitis. I was waiting at the door of the vet's office when it opened Monday morning.  They infused him, injected him and ran a zillion tests to make sure nothing else was the matter.

They wanted to hook him up to an IV, and keep him overnight, but it was getting ready to rain, and he goes ballistic when it rains.  It scares him so much he shakes all over and pants continually, until it stops raining.  He's not afraid of lightening or thunder, just rain.

And they would have stuck him in a crate overnight and left him there--so I said no.  He would have been terrified.  So I brought him home and he is doing fine. He's not up to par.  I am supposed to take him back in the morning.

$410.00.  I should have been a vet.

I am writing this on Monday night to post on Tuesday.  I'm beat.  Squig kept me up most of the night last night.  So I am going to go to bed soon.  We are in a high-tornado warning, but I think I'll just wait on a siren and go across the street to the neighbor's cellar if need be.

I thank God my dog is better.  I'm glad there was something the vet could do to make him feel better.  I was really worried.

I was afraid they were going to have to treat me because I was so worried.

When I am stressed, I eat.

I bet I gained five pounds.  I'll pull a Scarlett O'Hara and think about that tomorrow.  I usually lose weight just thinking--because the wheels in my brain turn over and over and burn fat really fast.  (It's Tuesday morning, I'm posting this.  Took Squig back to the vet this morning.  All is well.)

Squig is really sick.  Of course he got sick on Sunday when the Vet Clinic is closed.  I've been up most of the night with him; and we will be sitting in the parking lot when the clinic opens this morning.

I have an EMT in my Bible class, and she said his symptoms sound like his pancreas is the problem, and that Schnauzers are prone to that.  I talked to Becky last night and she said that her Schnauzer dog Maya had that problem.

He lay in my arms all yesterday afternoon.  It was like holding a baby.  He just wanted to be in my lap--wanting me to fix his problem.  So that's all I got done all the rest of the day and night.  Holding Squig.

Babies and dogs can't tell you what is wrong.  You end up feeling so responsible for their difficulties, but sometimes you have no solution and have to find an expert.  And sometimes they don't know either.  I've raised four children and think I've seen almost everything.  

But a dog is another thing all together.  And I am so attached to him.  He loves me.  He trusts me.  He believes I will take care of his every need.  And I do.  But he has never been sick in the last eleven years of his life, so this is new for me.  This is a first.  I am going to do my best for him.  But in the back of my mind, there is the nagging fear that my best might not be enough.

People will tell you that he is just a dog.  No.  That's not true.  He is my  companion.  He is my friend.  He wants to be where I am.  He is sad when I leave the house without him, and ecstatic when I return.  He is my best friend.

If you don't want your heart broken, don't get a dog.   

Everyday when I open my Mac, and check my email, there are fifteen to twenty notices I don't want.  Advertisements.  It irritates me no end.  However, it must be profitable or they wouldn't do it.  I never open any of them, but it takes time--that I don't want to give them--to delete them.

I've tried the "unsubscribe" thing. It doesn't work.  I think it just puts your email address out there for ten more people to bug you.  It's like robocalls.  Would someone out there please fix this.  Someone--like the people we elect.  I guess they are too busy with politics to do anything useful.  All those in charge in government want to do, (on both sides), is just argue about things.

I just paid a bill yesterday that I have been arguing over for two years.  I gave up.  Warning:  Medicare will not pay for a tetanus shot.  $149.00.  Why?  No body knows.  To me it was the principle of the thing--not the money.  Something as necessary as a tetanus shot???   They said if I had got the shot at a clinic, that it would have been free?  I doubt that.  I was tired of arguing.  I didn't want to pay it because it would give Medicare the idea that I am willing to give up in the future.  Truth is, I almost am.  It is such a headache. 

Would somebody out there fix our roads?

Would somebody out there mow the grass on the sides of the roads.

Would somebody out there do their job.

Okay.  I'm through ranting.  On a brighter note:  My my wonderful neighbor replaced all my outside light bulbs because they were burned out.  I have so many good things in my life--I need to concentrate on that today.  And I will. 

"Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights--in whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."

Today, I am going to remind myself to be thankful for the good.

If you are like me, you like to help people.  The only thing I don't much care to do is watch babies.  When they get to be four or five, I'm good.  But I've never been a "baby" kind of helper.  Which I know, isn't the norm for most women.  They love the goo-goo stage.  I like them up and doing stuff.

Other kinds of help, however, I'm into.  Helping people is easy if you know "what" to do.  The problem is knowing what they need.  My next door neighbors are sent to me by God I do believe.  Every few days they ask me if I need anything.  Or, can they help me.  They take the garbage to the street every week.  They bring me something to eat at least three times a week.  One of them popped in to check an electrical outlet yesterday.  One of them set mousetraps until we got all of the little critters.  They never stop asking me what I need for them to do.  At my age, this is the most wonderful blessing.

Yesterday, Jeanette, Jamie, her granddaughter Katie, and I met at a friend's new house and helped her get stuff organized.  She was overwhelmed.  Boxes were everywhere, some open, some empty, some stacked on top of each other and overflowing.  And she was exhausted and overwhelmed.

We broke boxes down, hung pictures, swept floors, arranged pretty stuff on top of the kitchen cabinets, moved furniture, and generally stayed busy for the afternoon.  It was a lot of fun.  And it felt good to do something that needed to be done.  And know that it was absolutely needed and appreciated.

We'll probably go back next week to finish the job.  At least to the point that our friend can see light at the end of the tunnel.  Having just moved, I knew what she needed to be done first.  That helped. We left with a good feeling that we had all been useful.

Christian people need to find a way to help others.  And you don't have to watch babies.  I give myself a pass on that!  I'd rather sweep floors.

Had lunch at the Red Lobster with my friend Jeanette today.  Delish.  I don't eat out much anymore.  I love to eat out, but I don't like to go alone.  As a matter of fact, I've only done that once.  It's too lonely sitting in a booth by yourself.  I'd just as soon eat peanut butter and jelly at home.  And I don't like peanut butter very much.

I am in a rut.  At least once a day, I eat a chicken sandwich.  I've tried to get away from frying the chicken; I've tried baking--then slicing it.  But it isn't the same.  I usually buy chicken breasts, then slice them thin, bread them, fry them and freeze a dozen or so--then thaw them out one at a time and make a sandwich.  I would use chicken tenders, but I'm too tight to spend the extra money.  Penny wise and pound foolish.

I haven't bought lettuce in months.  I use fresh spinach.  One slice of bread, mayo and sweet pickles.  Salt and vinegar chips.  I'm addicted.  I'm in a rut.  Not that there is anything wrong with eating a chicken sandwich every day, but it keeps a person from exploring other good things to eat.

Do you ever get in a rut like that?  There is something about the comfort and reliability of doing the same thing the same way every time you do it.  It then becomes a habit.  And habits are horribly hard to break.

I have set my mind to saying, "God Bless You," every day--to everyone I meet.  It has become very natural thing for me to say that.  It's a good rut.

But my morning "rut" probably isn't.  I don't do anything until I have finished the newspaper and a cup of hot Darjeeling tea.  And it isn't because I want the news--because it's always one day old by the time I get it.  It's because it is comfortable. Like old house shoes.  I hate change.  But sometimes...well...we need to re-think what we are doing.  Like making sure we set one day aside for God things.  He didn't write, "Remember the Sabbath," for no reason. 
    

Done.  Now I have to enter the revisions into the computer and return them to the publisher.  Any mistakes after that will be found by the public.  You.  If I revise 50 pages a day, I can have it done in seven days.  This is hard.

I just finished reading John Dwyer's book, "The War Between the States."  He is a historian and an awesome author.  A professor of history and ethics.  All my life I have been taught that it was over slavery.  But for the first time, someone has explained all the events leading up to the war.

It is fascinating.  The underlying cause was tariffs.  The North had enough votes to enact all laws because those states outnumbered the Southern States.  The tariffs on the South weren't used there.  They went to the upkeep of roads, ports, etc. in the North.  That's where it started.

Every speech, every law, every detail leading up to secession was explained.  But it was written in an interesting way for the reader.  I didn't know that numerous Northern states had threatened succession over issues they didn't like.  Such as admitting Texas, the Louisiana Purchase, etc.  There was no law against it.

I met John at a party at Becky's house.  He has published six or seven books.  I hadn't read anything he had written, so I have been catching up.  I finished his book, "The Oklahomans" which is the story of each Indian tribe, from the time 800 BC, woven in with the western movement of settlers.  It is a two part series--he is working on the second part.  Right now he is struggling on research of the Okla. City bombing.  He is an excellent writer.  Easy to read.

Best of all, he is a Christian and emphasizes the part that Christians had in the history of our country.  I've never heard most of what he covers.  Read it.  You will be amazed at the part those unsung people had in our history. 

Today, my publisher is coming to my house to finalize my editing changes.  We worked together for two hours Friday night and got over half way through it.  I can honestly say, "I'm weary of the process."

I never thought it would be so hard.  I don't know what I thought, to tell you the truth.  I guess I thought I would sign the contract, give them the copy, and be done with it.  It doesn't work that way.

My copies are supposed to be in my hands in May.  Who knows if that will happen.  The publisher says they will.  I say they won't.  She's got two weeks.

The hardest part of the Christian life is to put things in the hands of God.  Or at least, it is for me.  I take my problems to the Lord.  I just pick them up again when I get through praying.  That old song, "Take your troubles to the Lord and leave them there," is encouraging, but so very difficult to do.  I have such a hard time letting go of problems.  I want to fix them.  Now.  

Once a problem is in my head, it goes around and around.  I examine, then I re-examine.  Making sure I have thought through every possibility.  "If I do this, then that will happen next."  Or, "If I do that, then this will happen next."  And after I make a choice, then I chase down where that choice will lead.

Especially when you are a "Problem Solver" kind of person.  Which I am.  I have always been a problem solver.  Give me a problem, and I will figure out what is best to do.  And I'm usually dead on.  I'm not smarter than anyone else, I just think in sequence.  If a, then b, and only then can you find c.

Probably why I ended up in the field of mathematics.  You find a starting point and unravel things from there.  You can't get an answer if you don't know where to start. Start with the confidence that there is a creator who knows what to do. 

I know that all of you out there like for me to tell stories.  Remembering them is the hard part.  I think of one, and remind myself to write it down, then forget what it was.  I need to jot down a note.  But I don't because I don't have a pen or paper at the moment and am sure I won't forget it.  Then I forget it.

One of my class members is an EMT on an ambulance.  She will work all night, then come to our class on Sunday after not having had any sleep.  That's dedication.  She used her vacation time to go on a mission trip to India for two weeks.  It makes me unsympathetic of excuses people give not to go to church.

You do what you want to do.  There is no better way to learn than to get together with a group where you feel free to ask questions and also feel free to not completely agree with everyone else in the group.  

The class I teach regularly makes me explain what I have said.  "Why do you say that," or "What do you mean," or "Are you sure about that," or "Where is that in the Bible."  I love it.  We discuss, cross reference, and almost always come to agreement.  If not, we think about it and look into it further.

There is a scripture that says, (My version)  "One shall chase a thousand and two shall put ten thousand to flight."  Meaning that we are stronger when we have another person to help us, go with us, agree with what we believe, etc.
It also is strengthened by the verse that says, "Do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together as the manner of some is..."

We are better together than alone.  We uplift, strengthen, reinforce common values, and make each other stronger with our individual gifts.  If you have a heart to serve the Lord, join a "likewise" group.  If you don't have a heart to serve the Lord, why not? Wake up--give Him your life before it's too late.

Once a week I go listen to Biblical Brain-ie-acks teach a passage for next Sunday's lesson.  They are very, very interesting to listen to.  Scripture that I have read a zillion times is opened, and I realize that I didn't know squat about it.  After they discuss it, I am amazed that I hadn't thought about that.

It's very humbling.  I've been teaching Bible classes for sixty one years.  You would think I would know a thing or two.  But no.  I am still learning.

The only thing I can claim as an excuse is that everyone in the class seems to know something nobody else has thought about.  And every now and then I have something to offer that nobody else knew.  It doesn't happen often, but it does happen.  Maybe once a year???

It is a privilege to sit in a class with these people.  They teach me things.

Some of them are historical encyclopedias.  Some of them are Jewish language majors.  Some are fluent in the geography of Israel.  I am none of those. 

I am an application teacher:  1. What does it say?  2. What does it mean?  3. What am I going to do about it?  And that is the method I have always used to teach a class.  Scripture ought to change your life.  It should convict you.

If it doesn't help me become a better person, I usually file it away in my head to think about later.  I am more interested in what a passage is saying to me personally.  And what do I need to do in light of what I've read.

I have found in my years of teaching, that people skip over what they don't want to apply to themselves.  "Maybe it doesn't really mean that?"  Or "I need to read that in another translation," seems to be a theme of denial. 

Facts are enlightening (and good) but I need to apply the facts I already know.  

I did something that turned out to be the opposite of what I should have done.  When I moved in here last July or August, I was standing out in the front yard trying to decide what to do about five or six huge Burford Holly bushes in my front yard that had completely overgrown the foundations of the house.  

Retired fellows on the street began gather and give suggestions as to what to do.  "I want them out.  Gone," I told them, "But they're too deep to did out." One of the men asked.  "What are you going to do?" 

"I need a chain and a pickup to hook them up and pull them out," I said. One of the men volunteered that he had a truck and chains.  He left and returned and three of the guys proceeded to rip all of the hollies out.  Men like to rip stuff out.  Job done.  I was really thankful and went to Lowe's and bought shrubs and redid the flower beds.  They looked great.  I was pleased.

Fast forward to the first week in April of this year when I turned the sprinkler system on.  Nothing happened.  Seems as if it had been over twenty years since the hollies were planted and their roots had completely enwrapped the electrical system of the sprinkler system.  So when they were pulled out by the pickup, all the wiring was destroyed.  Torn to pieces.  Oh, well, I probably would do the same thing all over again.  The hollies were six to eight feet high and awful.

But the system had to be completely redone.  Which was expensive.  Very expensive.  When you buy a house, you never know what the expenses will be.  I've moved enough times that I have a good idea, but I wasn't expecting to have to completely redo the sprinkler system.  I'm now waiting on the other shoe to drop.  I wonder what it will be.  I did get all the new shrubs 75% off. It was last August--I had no idea if shrubs planted in August would live or not.  They did.  The savings will cover the sprinkling system??  I think I'm just justifying the cost of the destructive mess I made ripping out shrubs.

Denominations are funny things.  We are all Christians, but we differ over so many things.  You would think we could all agree.  But no.  We can't.

The disciples had the same problems.  Some thought you had to become a Jew first--since the Messiah was promised to the Jews.  The apostle James, and other Jewish Christians, had a problem with Paul's claim that Jesus came for everyone.  They had been Jewish from birth, special, and couldn't give it up.

Some of the apostles thought that meat sacrificed to idols couldn't be consumed.  God basically told them, "Don't ask.  If it is offered and you don't know where it came from, then eat it."

Peter didn't want to witness to Gentiles.  God finally had to give Peter a dream to show him that the Gentiles were to be included.  Without discrimination.   All of the Jews believed they were elite.  And they were--until Jesus came and died for all of us.  Up till then, the Jews were the people of God.  And they wanted to keep Jesus in the family.  The Jewish family.  God said, "No."

Paul was the great agitator.  He stirred the pot--which made many of the followers of Jesus uncomfortable.  Paul preached inclusion of every person who repented and believed in the resurrection of Jesus.  Everyone who asked Jesus to come into their lives and change them.

So, what are we denominations to do.  We differ over some important points.  Whether you should baptize babies and call them "Saved."  Whether baptism even saves you or not.  Whether we should have printed prayers.  Rituals, etc. 
But some things are sacrosanct, Jesus came to be a sacrifice for our sins, he died in our place, and he arose from the grave to intercede in our behalf.  When you give Him your life, He enters, and guides your behavior.  The Holy Spirit.  

Ever wonder why people join a certain church?  Sometimes it's because you were raised a certain way.  Sometimes because you get married and the two of you settle on the best compromise.  Sometimes it's because someone invited you.  Sometimes it's because your children went there to Bible School and you liked the way they offered Children's programs.  (A huge percentage of my church's donations go to the children's classes and programs.)  Sometimes it's because of the music, or the preacher.

Whatever.  On occasion, I get asked why I am a Baptist.  I was raised in that church, but as I have grown older; there are two or three main reasons I stay.  

First, I believe in missions--sending people to places where people have never heard the gospel.  And I think it is a waste of time and resources to have people come home from overseas and "stump" for money when they could be doing something useful where they are overseas. Southern Baptists, nationwide, pay their salaries--based on the exchange rate where they are sent.  They don't have to raise funds.  It's called the Cooperative Program. A percentage of what people give at the local church goes to fund missionaries.  I like that practice.

Second, every church decides how it will run it's local church.  We vote on almost everything.  Committees (people that we elect) bring recommendations, we discuss them, make changes--or not--then vote.  We don't have someone telling us how to allocate funds.  We call our own pastors, and vote to hire them, or not.  We all have a say in how funds are allocated. 

Third, Baptists believe in your ability to read.  We are called "People of the Book."  Everyone has a Bible and reads it.  We discuss the details in small groups.  Nobody tells you what you have to believe--the Bible is clear enough that you can figure it out. Is it a perfect denomination?  No.  I am sometimes amazed at the dumb things we do.  But at least I can be heard when I think something should be changed.  Everyone has a voice.  The main objective is to give the plan of salvation to others.  The plan the Bible describes. 

I am no longer young.  I have learned many things through the years.  Not many people care about what I have learned.  In our society, we do not honor nor listen to our elders.  That is a terrible thing to say.  But there, I said it.  

We idolize the famous--who seem to be some of the stupidest people in the world, who die from drug overdoses at an alarming rate, who hop from bed to bed leaving brokenness behind them.  We drop them when they are no longer famous and move on to the next famous person on the horizon.  Fame rules.

We idolize the young and beautiful--when they are the segment of the populace who know the least, make the worst mistakes, and have no other redeeming qualities except youth and beauty.  They grow old and wrinkled and wonder why people abandon them for the next young vibrant candidate who comes along.

I am continually amazed at how many people act out their lives based on their feelings.  Feelings are the great betrayer.  They aren't dependable.  Love is not a feeling.  It is a choice followed by a behavior that is consistent.  It is predicated on doing what is right for another person.  Choosing to do the right thing for someone else so that they can depend on your character.  They know you won't waffle.  If you think love is a feeling, good luck.  The feeling won't last.

Our society is seemingly crumbling.  People don't seem to have a moral base on which to build their lives. Then they wonder why they aren't happy. Happiness is fickle; contentment is what we need.  "In whatever state I am in..." God peace. 

Love is hard work.  You have to put someone else first.  You have to truly care about what is best for them--not what's best for you.  You have to be consistent, dependable, honest and kind.  That doesn't mean you are a doormat.  It's easier if you follow God's guidelines.  He loved us first.  In the condition we were in.  He stayed with it and didn't give up on us.

Someday, we are going to meet God--some of us sooner than others.  And we are going to have to give an account of our lives.  What we did with the opportunities that He gave us.  

We will have to answer about the people He sent our way--and if we didn't tell them what Christ means to us--why not?  Why didn't we tell them?  

About how we have have been changed since Christ came into our lives? The decision that marks us as one of His children.  Can people tell we are His?

And if there is no change, then how in the world can we assume that the Holy Spirit is living within us.  His Spirit changes how we live, how we think, and what we do with our time.  That's how we "Know."

His Spirit is the "earnest" (down-payment) of our inheritance in Jesus Christ.  Ephesians 1:14. It is what lets us know that we are His--because our desire is to please him and to do his work.

If you don't have a conviction to do His will, and share with others, you probably should check yourself.  There comes a point in your life, after you realize that you can't work yourself into heaven, when you realize that Christ made a down-payment for your salvation.  You have a choice to make.  Give your life to him.  Or not.  Repent.  Or not.

Someone once asked the question:  If you went to trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?

I hope everyone who knows me, or meets me, can tell who I belong to.

May.  What happened to April !!!  I still haven't planted okra.  God is doing His job, I'm just not getting mine done.  We have had rain up the Wahzoo.  I have planted over 30 other plants myself.  Just not okra.  My bad.  I'll do it.

Yesterday, I asked my friend Jeanette a question.  "If you knew someone needed help, but they hadn't made any effort to help themselves, would you help them?"

Her immediate answer was, "Yes."  She's a better person than I am.

"Well," I told her, "That someone is me.  I have dozens of pictures, framed, in the guest bedroom, lying on the bed, that I don't know what to do with.  They have been there since I moved and I go in and look at the mess, become discouraged and leave it all there--undone.  

I don't want to hang them for the most part, I want my four kids (grown adults) to take them.  I want to put most of them in four boxes and let them decide what to do.  When you have four children, ten grandchildren and six great grandchildren, you end up with a zillion pictures of every age of each of them.

I want my wedding wall up.  All of their wedding pictures and that's it.  And I don't even have a wall for that.  This house has more windows, fewer walls.

I bet you have similar problems with some stuff in your house.  Something you don't want to deal with??  Life, over its entirety, leaves you with stuff you don't know what to do with.  Nobody wants your stuff.  Why do we collect it?

I got my pink butter dish lid in the mail.  It makes me smile.

Jeanette is going to come help me.  Thank God for friends.