In the book of Genesis, the serpent "beguiles" Eve.  Tempts her with a thing she isn't supposed to do.  Temptation is always about something we aren't supposed to do.  Something forbidden by society, parents, or God.

Eve is about to do something that seems like a small thing--eat a piece of fruit--but it isn't small, it is huge.  It really doesn't have anything to do with fruit.  It has to do with obedience.  God could have just as easily said, "Don't jump up and down."  What he forbade wasn't the issue.  It was simply that He said "Don't do it."  So she did.  And so did Adam.

Gen.3: 6 "And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat."

She saw.  It was pretty.  It would make her wise--the serpent said so.  She took the fruit.  She ate it.  She gave it to Adam.  He ate it too.

When I teach young women who have children, I tell them that when you have a child, you will spend the rest of your life trying to teach them to "do the right" thing.  You will never ever, ever, have to teach them to do the wrong thing, they do that all by themselves.  We are pre-programed to do wrong.  We are born self-centered, selfish, greedy, thoughtless, unkind, etc., etc., etc... and until we have guidance by a moral code, we don't think in terms of others at all.

But it takes more than a moral code.  It takes an internal revamping that we are not capable of doing for ourselves.  We have to have an inside transaction that causes an internal change.  We have to have the Holy Spirit.  "Christ in you, the hope of glory." Colossians 1:27 God comes in, and changes you from the inside out.  Moral codes change you from the outside in.

James is an interesting book.  Written by Jesus' brother who was very Jewish in his writing.  In this, his only letter, he writes to the Diaspora (dispersion of the Jerusalem Christians) who were scattered.  Jewish Christians who were fleeing persecution.  People that James felt responsible for.

Can you imagine what it must have been like growing up in a household where your older brother was perfect.  A brother who never did anything wrong.  Who obeyed his parents in every way.  I think that living with Jesus would have been difficult.  James could never live up to his older brother.

And James must have heard the stories about the circumstances of his mother's first pregnancy.  I'm sure other boys teased him about his mom's "Virgin birth."  However, his father Joseph probably would have told his children about the truth of Mary's first pregnancy.  Would have told them how an Angel of God came to Joseph and told him not to be afraid to take Mary to be his wife.  Would have told them about Jesus being the Son of God.

But it was much later when James became a believer.  He watched Jesus for years and years as Jesus fulfilled the prophecies in the Old Testament, and one day, somewhere along the road, James became a believer.  Jesus was the Son of God.  Jesus was the promised Messiah.  So when James opens his letter to the   Jews who have fled Jerusalem, he simply says, "James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the twelve tribes which are scattered abroad..." He declares himself to be a servant.  Of God, and of his half brother, Jesus.  Whom he declares to be not only the Christ, but also to be his Lord.  

James' declaration is to every tribe in the Jewish nation.  All twelve of them.  He vindicates his mother's virgin birth.  He vindicates Jesus.  It takes a very big man not to be jealous of a sibling.  Born of the same mother, James declares that Jesus is the son of the living God. The promised one. The Christ.

James is an interesting book.  Written by Jesus' brother who was very Jewish in his writing.  In his only letter, he writes to the Diaspora (dispersion of the Jerusalem Christians) who were scattered.  Jewish Christians who were fleeing persecution.  People that James felt responsible for.

Can you imagine what it must have been like growing up in a household where your older brother was perfect.  A brother who never did anything wrong.  Who obeyed his parents in every way.  I think that living with Jesus would have been difficult.  James could never live up to his older brother.

And James must have heard the stories about the circumstances of his mother's first pregnancy.  I'm sure other boys teased him about his mom's "Virgin birth."  However, his father Joseph probably would have told his children about the truth of Mary's first pregnancy.  Would have told them how an Angel of God came to Joseph and told him not to be afraid to take Mary to be his wife.  Would have told them about Jesus being the Son of God. 

But it was much later when James became a believer.  He watched Jesus for years and years as Jesus fulfilled the prophecies in the Old Testament, and one day, somewhere along the road, James became a believer.  Jesus was the Son of God.  Jesus was the promised Messiah.

So when James opens his letter to the Jews who have fled Jerusalem abroad, 
He declares himself to be a servant.  Of God, and of his half brother, Jesus.  Whom he declares to be not only the Christ, but also to be his Lord.  And James' declaration is to every tribe in the Jewish nation.  All twelve of them.  He vindicates his mother's virgin birth.  He vindicates Jesus.  It takes a very big man not to be jealous of a sibling.  Born of the same mother, James declares that Jesus is the son of the living God. The promised one. The Christ.

I don't care for roast beef.  Chuck, etc.  I'm just not a meat eater.  But I cook it occasionally for everyone else.  I eat the gravy.  And you can't make decent gravy without cooking the roast.  Everyone else loves it and it's easy to do.

I'm through doing hard stuff.  For the first time in my life I made mashed potatoes without peeling them.  I'm never going to peel potatoes again.  They were wonderful.

My publisher is driving me nuts.  She can't seem to get her act together.  She keeps running to New York, etc. to publishers conventions.   Library conventions.  High school conventions.  Military conventions.  I called her yesterday and told her she was the ditziest person I had ever met.

Luckily she agreed with me.  But said that the conventions were where she promotes my book.  We'll see.  She still doesn't have a cover.  Or a blurb for the back of the cover.

I was supposed to have advance copies in May.  That didn't happen.  As Ken would say, "Their alligator mouth is ahead of their humming bird butt."   Oh, well.  It is what it is.

But it is frustrating.  The entire process has been horrible.  Getting a publisher is just a first step.  And I'm not complaining because everybody at the writer's convention last week were talking about how many rejection slips they got before they got an agent, much less a publisher.

I didn't get an agent.  And I've never been rejected by a publisher.  Praise God. I understand from the other writers that I a really blessed.  True, I didn't have to go through that process, but this ditziness is killing me.

Yesterday I finally got in to see my regular General Practitioner.  I've been with her for four years and she is awesome.  One of those doctors who listens to you and reviews your records before you walk in the door.  She knows me well and knows my history and trusts what I tell her.  She treats me as an equal, and knows I don't ever, ever whine.

She looked at every frame of the CT scans, disagreed with their report, told me why, explained why they were wrong and ordered new tests.  And made an appointment for me to see a vascular surgeon that she has faith in.  If she has faith in someone, then so do I.  

She is so good that I would stand on my head if she asked me to.  I feel so blessed to have her as my doctor.  Especially at my age when most medical experts look at my age and figure I should already have checked out of here.

But I'm going strong.  Finished the second book.  Started the third.  I was cleaning out paper from a million years ago and found something I had written in the 70's about Ken.  I don't remember writing it.  But he had to be sitting there telling me things.  There are 60 pages of names, facts, experiences, planes he flew, etc. etc.  I was shocked.

So I sat down at my Mac and started writing. Back in 1946 when he began his senior year (I didn't know him) I did 7 chapters in seven days.  Things I had heard about Ken flowed from my brain and my fingers.  I had to make up fictional dialogue to hold everything but the truth is in there.

I thank God every day I can think. (My mom had Alzheimer's   I thank God everyday that I have no (NO) arthritis in my fingers and hands so that I can type--most older people can hardly pick something up because of the pain.  

I didn't post last Thursday.  I headed down the turnpike to Pryor at six in the morning and just didn't remember to do it.  First for everything.  I went to see my brother, and his diagnosis was the same as the cardiologist:  put a stethoscope to my neck and said Hummm....that's interesting...or odd...or unusual.  Pick a word.  So I guess that's the diagnosis.

I got to see my friend Sally.  I haven't seen her in four years.  I can't believe it has been that long.  But I moved to Edmond in 2015.  I can't believe that either.  Both of her daughters were there as well.  It was old-home-week for me.

Life slips through our fingers when we are doing something else.

I have tomatoes the size of a baseball.  They haven't turned red yet but they are close.  As soon as they turn, I'm going to take a shaker of salt out to the garden and eat a couple right off the vine.

My high school reunion is in two weeks.  I plan to go, but the closer it gets, the more I dread the drive.  And packing to stay over night.  And sleeping in a strange bed.  I've become a crudgemudgen?  I looked that word up in the dictionary and can't find it.  it must be an Okie word?

My friends Cindy and Jeanette and I are going to an Oklahoma City this after noon to a book store that is supposed to have a parallel Gospel.  You know...the four Gospels side by side on a page in chronological order.  Matthew, Mark, Luke and John didn't write the same things about Jesus and I have a problem getting the order of events straight.  This book will help.  Like everything else I used to have, I loaned mine out and never got it back.  Who has it???

Last night, I cooked a chicken pot pie for Dave--Ann's hubby, and invited them over to eat.  I had been promising him I would do that for months and months.  "I don't know what you do different, that makes it so good!" he had told me the last time I made one.  Praise will get you another pot pie.

"Butter," I said.  "A lot of butter.  And you have to boil the entire chicken.  You can't just use white meat.  You have to have real broth from boiling an entire chicken.  Not chicken broth from the store."  I really have to be in the mood to make pot pie, because boiling and boning a chicken is such a mess. 

Thus, I don't make chicken pot pie for anyone but Dave--and then very rarely.  He ate three helpings, and then took the leftovers home.  I like it okay, but it is fattening. "Butter is the secret.  Butter makes everything better."

I don't cook very often anymore.  Everything I cook ends up making too many servings.  Pot pie makes twelve.  I was able to share pot pie with my neighbors who bring me food three or four times a week.  Why cook with neighbors like that?

I'm going to Pryor and see my brother this week. I'm taking film from CT's etc. I've spent the last three weeks getting referred and referred. Maddening. Thirty seven years in China with not much more than a black bag taught Bill how to diagnose.  He is excellent.  He had to read all of his own film in China.  Do his all of his own tests.  X-rays, Echos, Slides. Everything.  There wasn't anyone to refer a patient to where he was living.  He was it.  He had to figure everything out himself.  He can tell you "What it isn't."  Which is huge to me.  He is willing to say he doesn't know when he doesn't know.  That is a rare attribute among doctors. I'm tired of being shuffled around.

I went to lunch with some of my Sunday class and they made me promise not to move any more furniture by myself.  I finally committed that I wouldn't.  That day.  I didn't promise I wouldn't move any furniture the next day???

"How do you do that!" One of them asked.  

"She sits on the floor and pushes furniture with her feet," another replied.

That's true, but now that I have those little round disk sliders, I don't have to work as hard. The only difficult part is getting the slider under the foot of the object to be moved.  Some things are too heavy for me to lift.  And that irritates me.  I want to be who I was.  Even ten years ago would work for me.

Youth is wasted on the young.  They have no idea what they have.  But maybe that is true with all our accumulating ages, not just youth.  We lose something in our life and only then do we appreciate what we had.  Until it's gone.

Strength, health, mobility, quickness, memory...and on and on.  Not counting body parts. Thank God I still have my own teeth!  Eating is at the top of my "things to do."  

The Bible says, "In everything give thanks, for this the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." 1Thes. 5:18.  Good thing it doesn't say, "...for everything..." because there are some things I'm not thankful for.  But "in" the middle of everything, I can lift my voice and find things to be thankful for.  

And as I lift my heart in thankfulness and itemize things God has blessed me with--instead of griping about what is wrong--my attitude is lifted, my spirit soars and I find that I am very satisfied with the life he has given me.  God is good.  Be thankful "in" your condition.  Not "for" it.

Those little round disks that you put under the four legs--feet--of a piece of furniture have changed my life.  I can move things around like a pro.

Becky had an estate sale in which there were two matched sofas that didn't sell and went to half-price day.  She sent a picture of them, (don't you love the I-phone camera) so Jeanette drove me to South Oklahoma City to "Touch" them.  You know what I mean--a picture doesn't tell the whole story.  You have to touch the fabric.

I bought them.  They were six inches shorter than the two matched sofas I currently had.  The six fewer inches on each of them made all the difference in in the world as to how my family room could be arranged.  That's where the slider disks came in.  I could move whatever I wanted moved--by myself!!!  Which I did.

It is going to be great.  I gained enough inches be able to move another cabinet in next to my chair.  So that I can get a ton of stuff up off the floor.  I have existed in my chair for the last couple of years in the middle of a "nest" of papers, books, bills, etc.  

Everything that I want is now near me in a cabinet so that I don't have to go to another room to get it.  Everything now has a place!!  I'm very happy.

But since I was moving stuff from one room to another, both rooms are in disarray.  And of course, every picture in both rooms will have to be adjusted.  Which I dread doing.  But I'll get it done.  Everybody get out of my way!! For the first time since last August when I moved into this house, I feel like it is going to work for me. 

I hope so.  I really don't like moving stuff around. 

Here's a funny story.

I met with my cardiologist this last year and asked him a question.  "I'm curious.  How will you know when I've checked out and left this earthly domain?

Background:  I had open heart surgery 49 years ago; I was a guinea pig for a surgery that hadn't ever been done before.  It left me pacemaker dependent--I'm on my third (or fourth--I've lost track) pacemaker;  I have no beats of my own.  (The beat goes on.)  If I faint, no need for CPR--I need a battery!!  

So if my pacemaker keeps my heart beating, how would someone know that I had died and gone on to Glory?  That was my question.

I was telling my friend Jeanette that story and she said: "Oh, Janie, we'll know.  You'll stop talking."  Ha ha ha.  That's what good friends are for?  Count on Jeanette to come up with the perfect punch line. 

I admit, anyone who knows me, knows that my favorite mode of communicating is verbal.  I love conversation.  I love to hear your voice.  And I guess that I must love to hear my own voice...I admit, I'm full of words. 

My children say that I've always got to make a story better--by improving it.  And perhaps exaggeration is one of my "gifts?" I know I have a talent for expanding stories. I do love adjectives.

But the truth is "in there" somewhere. 

Maybe that's why I started writing when I was 75!!  I needed somewhere to put all of the words, all of the adjectives that are in my head.

God bless my adjectives.  And may my readers benefit.

Lost Wii Fi today.  Storms.  Hook up behind a huge antique bed I couldn't move.  I'll catch you Monday.

My dad (Elmer) was a deacon in the Baptist church.  It was a position of service.  When something was needed within the church, nine times out of ten they called my Dad.  He was a "yes" man.  When the church would call and say "Can you drive Mrs. Elsie to Tulsa to her doctor's appointment?  She needs help and her kids don't live close. He always said yes to the church staff's requests. After he retired, he did things like that  almost every day.

 When someone needed to go to the grocery store, to the baseball practice, to the dentist or doctor--whatever,  Dad took care of it.  If they needed to go vote, Daddy was your man.  Dad always said yes.  He had the heart of a servant. He liked to help people.  And back then, not everyone had transportation.

After they retired,  he and my mom would help sponsor church youth bus trips.  Solving problems as they arose, always happy to help.   

Everyone loved him.  He carried Juicy Fruit Gum in his pockets and handed it out one stick at a time to every kid who came to church on Sunday.

He lived to be 94.  And when he died, the preacher compared my dad to Barnabus--who was a helper for Paul on his journeys.  He called my dad Elmerbus.  He was God's helper.  That's exactly what he was.

As people passed the casket, many of them slipped a stick of Juicy Fruit gum in dad's shirt pocket. He left earth with Juicy Fruit in his pocket.

My dad was a great man.  Quiet, simple, unobtrusive, always in the background, always smiling.  Always happy.  He never finished college.  He wasn't the CEO of a company.  He never made a lot of money,  But he was a gold star father.  

God blessed me with a father who lived the Christian life every single day.  He was the most Godly man I ever knew. 

As long as we are talking about faith, there is a very interesting verse in the Bible on the subject:  Ephesians 2:8.  "For by grace are you saved through faith; and that not of yourselves:  It is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast."

This verse says a number of things.  Foremost, that salvation, being saved from eternal death, is a gift from God.  You can't earn it.  It is not a bargaining chip. There are no balance scales where the good things you have done can outweigh the bad.  You have nothing to do with it at all. God himself took your sin upon himself.  Crucified.  He paid the price for you.  Completely.  Once and for all.

It is a 100% gift from God.  He gives it to us.  Through His grace.  None of the payment for sin can be worked out by you.  "...that not of yourselves."  But when you are grieved by the things you have done and ask for forgiveness through belief in Jesus the sacrificial lamb of God, He says he will forgive you, if it is true repentance.  Being sorry is not enough. You must give him your life.

But another thought is in there.  It is possible that the verse is also saying that even the faith you have is not of yourself--it also is the gift of God.  "...saved through faith, and (even) that is not of yourself...

Where does our faith come from?!!  Could it be that God gives us an inner light to respond to His voice.  And we choose to ignore it, or act upon it--in faith.

I think that God speaks to everyone at some point in their life.  But if we push His voice away, (the Bible calls that "quenching" the Spirit) we become hardened to the voice of God--hard hearted.  And there is another voice that comes to us that presses us to ignore the voice of God's Spirit.

The Bible says "Be...alert.  Your adversary the devil is prowling the earth like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 1 Peter 5:8  Satan is a faith killer. 

Faith is a funny thing.  You either have it, or you don't.  

The Bible says that, "So then, Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God."  Romans 10:17  You can't have faith in something you haven't heard about.  So hearing is the first step.  Read history.  Read.  Read.  Read.  

Then, you have to believe that what you are hearing is true.  Some people never get past this point because they attach themselves to a lie, and can't move on They are emotionally stuck where they are.  Changing their minds to admit that they are wrong would imply that they were stupid, and they just can't go there.  Get over it.  Move on toward truth. Truth is always true.  Never changing.

I can't tell you how many times in my life someone has told me something that wasn't true.  If you look at Facebook, you will find a zillion stupid things touted as truth.  Then repeated over and over again until there is an entire following of people (group of buddies) who believe and place their faith in what they are telling each other.  Doesn't matter if it is true or not. They support each other's opinions.  They have a following and they gang up on people who disagree.

Never disagree with a crusader who is headed in the wrong direction.  They are bullies. They will try to run you over with loud words.  

Now, Faith is the evidence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." 

Hebrews 11:1  So look for evidence.  I hope you aren't depending on Facebook.

Read, read, read.  Then examine the lives of people in the world.  Who lives in peace.  Who loves and cares for people.  Who is fair.  Who is honest...etc...you know what I'm talking about.  Yes, the church is full of hypocrites.  So is the world.  But in the middle of all that are people who are living the Christian life by faith.  And their lives are the evidence.  It gives me hope for the world.  

Squig went back to the doctor and got hydrated.  He is better.  He is the most expensive "free" dog I've ever known.  I think part of the problem is that it's been raining every day; he is afraid of rain, so he shakes for hours and it dehydrates him.    I give him anti-anxiety pills all the time when it's raining, but he still shivers and shakes and pants forever.  Terrified.  Enough rain.  The vet said that Squig is his first "Rain" dog.  Usually it's thunder or lightening.
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There are at least three kinds of faith.

1.  Blind faith:  Someone tells you Jesus died for your sins, rose again, and if you believe in him and give him your life--all will be well.  He accepts your faith in him.  You don't have to know much about the Bible to believe in Christ.  The good thing is that your blind faith is in Him instead of Allah, Buddha, etc.  A lot of people have blind faith in the wrong thing.  Your faith must be in Christ.

2.  Emotional response:  You have knowledge about salvation, and at some point you feel as if God is speaking to you.  People need to be sure that they aren't just responding because their friends are, or that they are having a fear of hell, or they are getting caught up in crowd emotion.  Feelings aren't always reliable.  But sometimes, feelings and emotions lead us to God.

3.  Logical systematic response:  Some people have to be absolutely positive that the Bible is truth.  That what is written was recorded accurately.  That the written words are based on facts.  Sometimes it takes them awhile to reach that conclusion.  They have to have step one, step two...truth...then belief.

All three methods of accepting Christ as God, and as the penalty for your own sin, will work.  He does the saving--not you. You do the believing.  

If you know me, you know which one I am.  Which one are you?

Brady is now hooked on the same stupid show that I watch.  "My 600 pound life."   It is a study in stupidity.  People say they don't know what to do about weighing 700 or more pounds, and keep stuffing Twinkies, potato chips, Cheetos and Little Debbies in their mouths--all day long.

Brady told the TV screen, "Stop eating junk!!"  But it is fascinating to watch people do stupid stuff.  You just sit there and watch them, and shake your head in amazement.  Then you ask yourself, "Why in the world am I watching this idiotic show?"  How do you get through 12 years of public education and not get a basic understanding of calories and what they do to your body???  I don't get it.  But maybe they were absent that day.  

You know how it is going to turn out--because these people have a disconnect between what they are doing--and what the result is.  They say the weirdest things--giving their excuses for eating things they shouldn't--and why they can't stop doing it.  When they go back to the doctor after two months, they say that they are retaining water--since they have gained weight instead of losing it.  Doing the same things, expecting different results!! Little Debbie logic??

  
We need to take care of our bodies.  God lives inside!!  I think one problem is that we give our children quick stuff to eat, because we live life on the run and it is an easy solution.  Children learn to eat what you give them. You train their taste buds.  If you were born in the Orient, you would eat rice and fish every day.  And crave rice and fish.  In America we have chips and dip at every school event and at every church event.  We are hooked.  Kids learn (early) to eat things that aren't great for them.  Bad stuff tastes so good--fat and sugar.  If you leave broccoli, carrot sticks or other veggies by the hummus instead of the chips and sour cream dip, they will get used to it.

Just saying......"Know ye not that your body is the temple of God?"

Storms are coming in again.  Edmond is going to get it.  Rain, rain, rain.  And I am not "Singing' in the Rain" for sure.  We are drowning.

My garden looks pitiful.  The dirt was already there, I assumed it would be okay.  Wrong assumption.  Lousy dirt.  Pitiful results.  Okra will be okay because you can't kill okra.  It's like crab grass.  The peppers are wilting.  The tomatoes are just pitiful.  Next year.  "Hope rises eternal in the human breast."  Note to myself:  Get better dirt.

Squig has not recovered.  He is so listless that he sleeps through the storms. 
The vet said his gall bladder could be involved.  I am going to chase this down for a solution.  I'll take him back to the vet this afternoon.  He wouldn't get up this morning.  This is scary. 

Brady went home yesterday afternoon for the night.  He'll be back this morning for two more days of Bible School.  This gives him a break, but he was anxious to be sure he got to come back. Next year, I think he will be big enough to go without me to Bible School.  I can take him and pick him up and we can play in the afternoons.  I am a Bible school failure.  He is a success.

I think I've done my duty with Bible School.  This is my third year to take him and work in his room.  This year he remembers some of the kids--jumped right in and forgot that I was there.  He's ready to do it on his own.

He likes to put puzzles together and that is something I can do with him.  I hadn't put a puzzle together in years until he started to come stay with me.

I am rambling.  Next week, after I recover from Bible School, I'll do better.

Posting this week is disjointed.  Bible School is a killer.  Thank God that he gives the gift of working with children to some people--not me.  Give me teenagers anytime of the day.  I've been hanging in there.  Hanging is the operative word.

Spent another nine hours in the emergency room yesterday.  This is the seventh doctor in five days that couldn't figure out what was wrong.  But this time, I went straight to the top, to a vascular surgeon.  Ta-da!!  He brought film in, talked to me like I had a brain (When you are 81, they think you are senile and stupid and overreactive)  And the vascular surgeon figured everything out.  Showed me the CT scan, explained it to me step by step, and said to make an appointment for follow up so he could explore this anomaly further.  Yea!!!

Seems like I have a right carotid artery that is shaped like a double S snake, and when I lean my head to the right side, it kinks and blows up like a balloon.

Solution:  Don't tip my head to the right.  Hallelujah, Praise the Lord.  It isn't an aneurysm.  I don't need surgery, drugs, or therapy!  Just hold my phone to my left ear and bend left.  I can do that.  

The whole thing started when I was trying to type while talking to Carolyn.  I was holding my phone in place--between my right shoulder and my right ear so that both hands were free.  So the carotid artery kinked, my blood pressure went higher than a kite (I have low BP.)  And I got a huge bulge in my neck that was pounding like crazy.  And no one could figure out what was wrong with me.

Always start at the top of the doctor chain.  Always go to God first with your other problems.  He alone has all of the answers.  The entire drama pushed me to do some things that needed to be done.  Nothing like a good drama.

Woke up this morning at 3:30 to rain--and couldn't go back to sleep.  What we need is more rain???  I feel so sorry for the people along the Arkansas and other overflowing rivers.  This state is a disaster area right now. 

People who are flooded don't know what to do.  People who want to help them don't know what to do.  The authorities don't know what to do at this point either.  The water just keeps rising.  And most of the people don't have flood insurance because they aren't in the floodplain and didn't think they would ever need it.  It's really sad.

People are waiting for the water to go down.  It probably isn't going down for a while.  There is too much of it, and it keeps raining.

Brady and I planted potatoes the last time he was here at my house.  We dug them up yesterday, and decided to do it differently next year.  We had a dozen potatoes. None with a diameter greater than a quarter.  But we are proud of those little gems and going to slice and fry them today.

We used the wrong kind of soil.  I should have gotten Miracle Grow.

Which is Biblical.  Put the right stuff in your head, and when you need it, the right stuff will come out of your mouth.

"Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against thee." Psalms 119:11

"Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks."  Matthew 12:34  Dirty words in, dirty words out.  Don't fill your heart with dirty words.

Well, I survived the first day at Bible School.  It is definitely not my age group of choice.  But I managed.  Brady--my grandson--had a blast. That was the point. 

Got a new set of doctor's opinions.  The emergency room radiologist said it wasn't an aneurism.  Another radiologist that came in the next morning and checked everything again, said that it was.  My brother Bill says it's an aneurism--So I am supposedly going to see a vascular surgeon tomorrow or the next day hopefully.  It is what it is.  Even if nobody agrees.

I appreciate those of you who are praying for me.  It is a comfort.

I feel like my body is out to get me.

But when I was 32, I saw a much worse medical crisis.  I had a tumor in my heart and they gave me less than 1% chance of survival.  I went into that surgery knowing that I probably wouldn't survive.  As they were wheeling me to surgery, the person who was rolling me in said he was surprised that I was so calm.  But I had turned it all over to God.  And here I am 81 years old. That's almost fifty extra years.  

Maybe God isn't done with me yet?  God does what He wants for his big plan, and it works better for our emotional state if we are tuned into that.  The secrete to being calm is to know that you know that you know Him.

One thing it forced me to think about is that I better finish this second book I'm working on.  Not being pessimistic--just precautionary.  So I spent most of yesterday afternoon working on it.  I'm almost there.  

I'll know more after I see the vascular surgeon.  

Squig had to go back to the vet.  I couldn't take it--not knowing if he was better or not.  I told the vet that we were there to treat the mother.   He got a kick out of that.   He reassured me that this treatment for pancreatitis might take time, but was a lot more encouraging about Squig's diet than the other vet I saw.  So I will make my appointments in the future with this guy.  I really liked him. 

This is Squig's first sickness ever.  Ever. 

I was afraid Squig had lost weight, and when you weigh 12 pounds, any weight loss is significant.  But all was well.  Squig finally gave up and this morning ate some of the dry food he had been turning his nose up at.  Yea.

Maybe he will give up and eat it from now on?

At least I feel better about the whole thing.

I can't help but wonder how many vet appointments are to treat the mother.  It is hard when you can't figure out what is going on with your dog.  It would be better if they could talk.

I called my choir director and told him I couldn't come and why, and he told me to bring my dog with me.  Greatest choir director in the world.  I wouldn't do that, but thought it was lovely that he offered.

Squig didn't lose weight, but I lost two pounds in the last ten days.  Worry does that to you.  I surely have prayed for Squig.  I added him to my list of sick people I pray for.  

I think God understands.