I've never been funny.  I can't tell a joke and make it come out right.  However, I read something the other day that I thought was humerous, so I think it's worth a laugh--so I'll give it a try.

This man was researching methods of reaching and talking to God, so he decided  to travel the country and ask pastors at different churches and denominations about that.

First church he went to had a solid gold telephone hanging on the wall with a sign underneath: Price, $100,000.  Direct line to God.

He traveled the country, and at every church, there was a solid gold phone with the same sign.

When he reached Oklahoma, he entered a local church where the gold phone on the wall said: 25 cents for a direct line to call God.

He asked the pastor, "Why do all the other churches in the nation charge $100,000 to call God and you only charge 25 cents?

Well, son...Oklahoma is God's  country.  It's a local call.

I'm sure my fellow Oklahomans will agree with that.

I did something last night that I have never done before.  I made bread from scratch using a starter.  The starter was foaming, bubbling and just right.  I got it from a friend (Donna) who stayed here with her husband and children for a week last month when her father was ill. They came to help their mom who lives across the street.

Making bread was a momentous event, because I do not like to get my hands dirty and will avoid anything that might get under my fingernails.  Wet dough gets under your nails and is like glue.  But I persevered.

I got through the first stage of kneading fairly easily by using a dough hook on the Kitchen Aid mixer.  Dumped it in a greased wooden bowl to rise.

But this morning, I had to hand knead it and I am definitely an amateur. I had sticky dough everywhere.  I am going to have to revise this step or I will never attempt making bread again.  There has to be a knack to it.

Two loaves are rising in the oven.  Donna said that if you put the dough in the oven with the light on, the light generates just enough warmth to help the bread rise.  By noon, I will have fresh baked bread.

I am an official Oklahoma pioneer woman.  Bout time?

I have given up on my publisher.  She wanted my book.  She bought my book.  She spent a bunch of money and enormous amounts of time on my book.  But she won't publish it...because I am not able to sit in bookstores and sign books due to Covid. 

It costs a tremendous amount of money to advertise books and they don't want to spend money until the time is right...I understand.  But it has driven me nuts working with a publishing company.  I'm ready to get the vaccine!!! And get into the bookstores.

As a result, I have had time to finish another book, edit it a zillion times and print it myself.  (Not self publish--I'm not going to self publish.)  I went to UPS and had them print ten copies and bind them.  One for each of my kids (The book is a fictional-factual rendition of Ken's Korean and Marine life from the time he was seventeen until he was twenty-five.)

The other six are going to Jeanette and Carolyn--who both held my hand, listened to me read portions over and over again and tolerated my mood swings, and Joe Mike Bacon--who taught me how to fly an OE, F-9, SNJ and the Corsair over the phone. The rest to editors and publishers.  

I was euphoric to see something in print.  Now I will now finish the book about my grandmother coming in a wagon from Tennessee to Arkansas, and the one about my brother's 37 years in China. 

Did everyone go outside and watch the "Star of Bethlehem" on Monday night.  I took a photo with my phone, but it didn't come out well.  Oh, well, I'll take another one in a thousand years.

Jeanette's sister Shirley said, "Maybe the star means that Jesus is coming back.  I don't think I'm going to clean house!"  She thought she might be leaving the house on her way to glory.  Why clean when you are vacating.

I'm ready for Him to come.  The world is a mess.  You wouldn't know how big a mess it is unless you have lived during the perfect time of the world.  

That would be the 1950's in America.  Nobody used curse words--at least in a group--I didn't even know what the curse words were.  You could walk home from school by yourself, and if you were late, nobody worried about where you were.

If you talked on the phone, you sometimes had to talk to an operator first to verify that it was you who actually was speaking.  We had party lines, so if it rang once, twice, or three times you would know who it was for.

Everyone listened in.  You weren't supposed to, but who could resist hearing the latest gossip. 

 Isaiah 9:6-7

6 For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the increase of His government and peace
There will be no end...

Thank you Lord God for your unspeakable gift.

Merry Christmas to all my friends....I'll be back on Monday

 Becky and six friends get together every Christmas week and make cookies.  

Actually, everyone makes two or three kinds of cookies and they go to Becky's and arrange twenty or a zillion plates of assorted cookies to take to friends and family and tie a bow around the see-through wrappers.

I got a plate.  Which I can never possibly eat all of them.  It allows me to assort them on three or four smaller plates and take them to my neighbors.  My neighbors think I am a wonderful cookie cook.

I take the praise for a minute or two and then confess.  I'm too honest to let it go on for long.

Becky also has a Valentine Party every year (except this year she didn't because of the virus.)  She bakes six or seven cheese cakes, six or seven fabulous cakes, pies, candied bacon, brisket, etc. etc.  and on and on.  It is over the top.  I hope she does it again this year and we are all done with covid and have our vaccine.

Pat always has a Christmas brunch.  But not this year.  Everything is not exactly right this year.  I'm ready for 2021.  God bless next year please.

Luke wrote his gospel, and although he is the only writer that got events in exact order of when they happened, he left out the entire story of the wise men.  But told of the baby in the manger and the shepherds seeing the angels who told them about the birth of Christ.

Matthew, on the other hand, left out the entire story of the shepherds and the angels appearing to them and the message they brought, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  

But he told about the angel appearing to Joseph and telling him that Mary was pregnant with the Messiah.  And he wrote the story of the wise men, and about Herod hearing of the birth of a King and killing all of the babies that might be that king.

Luke told Mary's story.  Matthew told Joseph's story.  Mark and John told neither one of those stories.  They started almost immediately with the story of John the Baptist.

In a few days, we will celebrate the birth of that child, who grew in wisdom and died for us.  My friend Carolyn said, "He started up being swaddled in a manger, and ended up wrapped in cloth and placed in a borrowed tomb.

Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace, good will toward men.

I have finally given up on keeping my Lincoln, 1999 Town car.  Craig has taken it to a detailer--which it doesn't need.  Nobody has ever sat in the back seat.  Inside is pristine.  Only thing wrong with it is that the garage door came down on the back bumper and scratched it.

We bought it when an elderly couple--who bought it new--traded for a new one.  Ken had a 99,  with a lot of miles.  I called the Lincoln dealer and asked him to find me another 99 exactly like the one we had with low miles.  He did.  Ken loved that car.  

He was 84 years old at the time and I didn't want him to have to mess with learning new buttons and switches.  He was having a hard enough time dealing with being sick.  I drove him to Tulsa and we bought it.

It has been sitting in the garage ever since.  I drive it occasionally, but not enough to justify the space in the garage.  

I'm starting to feel that way with a lot of things I have.  They just take up space.  Pretty, but useless.

Becky always had the right idea.  Spend your money on experiences, not things.  Those are the things your kids remember.

The stages of life determine who your friends are.  We do things, meet people there, and journey through raising kids together, teaching at our churches, going to soccer, football, baseball games.  We do "life" together.

When I moved to Edmond, I left so many friends in Pryor that I had made during my lifetime.  It was the right thing to do for the sake of my daughters who were trying to fill in the gaps when I needed help, but it left a huge hole.  And when you move in your late seventies like I did, everyone you meet already knows each other and you aren't a part of who they were, who they are, who their kids are...and so on. You are nobody.

It's tough.  I immediately memorized the names of everyone in the church department where I went to class and every Sunday morning would greet them by name, ask about their week, and generally act like I owned the place.  They started to think I did.  Asked me to play the piano for the department and assigned me to teach a class.

But I didn't really have a friend until Jeanette adopted me.  It was an unexpected blessing that I didn't expect to find.  She calls me every day at 10:15, stops by the house to check on me.  Calls when she is going to the grocery store to see if I need something, and is generally a light in my life. It is an absolute joy to have a friend who likes my company--I can be a bit much sometimes.  And I love her company as well.  She is now mine.

My son in law, Craig--Becky's husband--is the only person in my family that thinks in sequence like I do.  Not that there is anything wrong with the way others in the family think, but I have always been able to communicate with him in the manner in which I like to process thoughts and ideas.

He is a Chemical engineer.  I am a mathematician.  It works well for communication.

So today, he took me to the lawyer to set up my affairs in a trust.  I had already put his name on everything I own.  I trust him implicitly, and have for years.  He is always there when I need someone.

But of course, the appointment was early, and I haven't got my morning crossword done--which upsets my daily sequence of events.

By now, I would usually get a text on the phone from Rebecca Perkins:  "You forgot to post," she would say.  She keeps me in line.  But I haven't heard from her and actually remembered on my own.

I have all of you friends who add to my life.  I am so blessed.  Everywhere I have a hole in my personality, one of you fills it up with kindness. 

America is bankrupt.  We owe mega more trillions than we can repay.  I have always thought it was interesting how many people don't understand where money comes from.

You have to invent something, manufacture something, find something in the ground or air that produces something people need.  Once you have done that, you hire people to help you do it.  That is called a job.  A job.

And as you earn a wage helping someone who has come up with an idea to create something, you spend your money and someone else along the line earns the money you spend because they manufacture something and hire more people to help them.  The economy is stimulated.  Simplified, the GNP.  Gross National Product.

Problem is, when the government borrows money, it has to be repaid in some way, and the way you do that is take a part of the job earners wages.  That's a tax.  There are only two ways to get that money...tax the wage earner, or tax the corporations who have built the jobs.

There used to be a happy medium...that is no longer true.  Corporate headquarters aren't stupid.  They move offshore where they can't be taxed, which means more debt for the earners to pay--and poverty increases to the point that people don't have enough money left to buy food.  I am not a democrat; I am not a republican.  I am an American.  We need to get our act together.

The dentist called and said if I could be there by 8:30 they would fix my broken temporary crown.  

Messed my my sequence and I forgot to post.  I'll do better tomorrow.

I't's finally settled.  We are going to be a "Mask up" class.  Everyone thinks that's best--except one--and she can join by phone.  It relieves a lot of pressure on me.  I don't have to be the bad guy and say, "You have to wear a mask."  My educational director said all the over 50 age classes but mine were wearing masks.  So.  It's done.  Masks, or connect by phone.

Since it's almost Christmas, we are learning the Christmas story through the eyes of storyteller Luke, about Mary and Zechariah.  What it felt like to be those people.  The human aspect.  Zechariah and Mary saw an angel, Gabriel--who said that he stands in the presence of God.  And that God had sent him to them personally with a message.

I have had to rethink something that I have always held as truth...and that was that in the old days, the Holy Spirit "came upon" people.  But after Pentecost, the Spirit that Adam lost and Christ restored "Dwelt within man."  But here, we find in Luke 1:15 that "...he (John the Baptist) shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother's womb."  Which means God is sending someone holy from the git-go.  And in vs. 41 it says, "Elisabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost.  In vs.67, "Zachariah was filled with the Holy Ghost."  All before Pentecost.

They believed in Jesus and were filled with his spirit before he was even born.  Those three people prepared the way of the Lord.  John, Elizabeth, and Zachariah.  Two very old people past childbearing age, and their son--John the Baptist.

My Sunday class is meeting by phone--add a person call.  I like it better than Zoom.  We tried that and nobody liked it.

I don't know why the group phone call seems better, but it seems to be working.  Some members go to the church, dial (I'm a girl who used to dial the phone) everyone up and off we go.  I'm ready for this to be over, however.  I want warm bodies with smiling faces to teach!!

When you stay home everyday by yourself, you run out of things to talk about.  Amazing how some of us thought we were self-sufficient and have found out that we are actually social creatures.  Me.

They say I'll be first on the vaccine list after doctors and nurses, etc.  I don't see how the vaccine can be worse than the virus.  Bring it on.  

People say the trials were too short.  There were the same number in the trials, same three trial stages...they all just dropped everything else they were working on and expedited this vaccine.

I asked my brother (Dr. Swan) which one I should get.  He said get the first one I can--that's what he is going to do.  So if you are one of the ones who are  nervous about it, wait and see what happens to us.  We're in.

 I asked my friend Carolyn why did she think that God didn't heal someone we had been praying for. 

She said, "He did.  He just took him home to do it."

That's the best answer I've ever gotten to that question.

My friend Carolyn is a Humanities, Drama and English whiz.  She taught junior high and high school English for over thirty-five years, and  produced and directed multiple dramatic stage productions.  Every year. With excellence.

Every time I get stuck when I am writing something, I can call her and say, "I need a word.  One that means..."  She always has the word I am looking for.  Right off the top of her head. 

Since I am a mathematician, science kind of creature, I tend to think sequentially.  If--then kind of logic.  She thinks in flowers and bouquets.  Together we make one total complete pair of thinkers.

We've been friends since I was in the ninth grade.  She was a year behind me.  Who knew that we would still be friends sixty-eight years later.  Somewhere in my youth or childhood...I must have done something good."  (Sound of music)

Over a thousand dollars later, (half of what the big companies want) all the dead limbs that broke in my two humongous oak trees have been removed.  Watching my tree guy climb a four story tree was breath-taking.  He tied himself to secure branches as he climbed, then used a chain saw, bracing his feet to limbs as he pulled the cord to start the saw--it scared me to watch.  It took two weeks to get it done, and he had a helper.

You don't know what a tree is worth until you are about to lose one.  In this case, I wouldn't want to lose the trees!!  You can't replace trees like these. My oaks are the oldest, tallest, biggest on the block--or in the entire neighborhood.  It gives you a real sense of what the tiny acorn--less than a half inch in diameter--can do.  With the help of God.

The assistant raked the yard and filled over two wheelbarrows full of acorns.  The street, driveway, and sidewalk to the front door were covered with them.  You couldn't take a step without crushing dozens upon dozens of them.  This was an epic ice storm.  I never have seen anything like it.

I'm think I'm ready for tornado season.

 

Luke is the only Gospel writer that got things in the order that they happened.  He went to the source for what he wrote.  He interviewed the eyewitnesses.  Otherwise we wouldn't have the stories about the birth of Christ.  He had to have interviewed Mary.

Elizabeth and Zechariah would have been very, very old when Luke talked to them because--they were both shocked when Gabriel said they would have a son.  Zechariah asked, "How can that be?" Perhaps Luke  got their story from Mary who was young when she went to see Elizabeth.  Mary was probably fifteen or sixteen. She wanted advice from her older relative.

Luke has stories that the other three Gospel writers don't have.  And he is the ultimate story-teller of the Bible.  He wrote about everything up to the Resurrection, and couldn't stop writing.  He continued his story about what happened next in the book of Acts. It is the only history book in the New Testament.

He was invaluable to Paul, who calls him, "Our beloved Physician."  Luke tells the story of sailing to Rome with Paul, and of what happened along the way.  He uses the words "We" and "Us."  No other writer does that.  Most likely, Luke was keeping a diary as he traveled with Paul, because the accounts are so vivid.  We can trace Paul's journeys through Luke's accounts.  We owe Luke a debt for sharing his travels with us. 

What happened to this year.  I've never seen a year go by so fast.  I've never seen a year go by so slow.  But then, I've never seen a year like this one before. 

I received a note from a friend I've been praying for who has fought cancer for nine years.  It was a goodby letter to all of her friends.  She said the fight was over and she was getting ready to leave us and go to God.  It was uplifting and heartbreaking all at once.  We never want our loved ones to leave us.

I was reminded of another friend, Linda Pace from my hometown of Pryor.  She asked to speak to the entire church, came to the front in a wheel chair with a big floppy hat on, took it off--and told us that she was just changing her hat for a heavenly crown.  Everyone was in tears when she finished talking.

There have been so many people who have left us this year.  So many families are going to be missing a loved one this Christmas.  But....this life is short compared to the next one.  We just need to make sure we are part of that heavenly family before we leave this one.  Because that is forever.

Jesus is the reason for the season.

Sunday, I will begin to teach the book of Luke.  I have no idea how many times I've done that, but you learn something new every time you open the word of God--you are at a new stage of life, and you read words that you know those words weren't in there the last time you read it!!!

I am also reading a book by an author that only uses the Hebrew words for the people in Luke.  It is difficult.  If I didn't know what they meant, I'd give up.  I'm sure he must be a Christian Jew because of the emphasis he puts on the Jewish feasts and the time line between them.

Much of those feasts were, and are, based on the cycles of the moon.  Through those feast days, he plots a time line of Jesus' ministry.  And it is much more science based than the theological time line.  He puts Nasa's millionth of a second time base to use in counting the days between events.  It is more exact and shortens the time of his ministry.

I'm thinking about that.

When you study in preparation to teach,  you always end up with more in your head than you can deliver in an hour.  But that's ok.  

I lost a crown Saturday.  I took it in to my dentist yesterday, to have it glued back on.  No such luck.  They sent me to an endodontist--who got me in immediately, (that never happens--usually you wait months).  By the time I left, I glowed like an alien from another planet.  They took one zillion X-rays.

The hard part of X-rays is, "Hold still."

Today, they are going to try and save my tooth.  Hallelujah.  The crown was put on back in the military when I was 26 years old.  Fifty-six years ago. So that's a record.  The dentist who put it on said, "Let me know how long this lasts."  I would, but I'm sure he's probably not with us here on earth anymore.  I actually remember his name.

The dentist wanted to know what kind of anesthetic I wanted.  "None, just novocain." I told her.  My first fillings were in the old days (of torture) in the 40's.  Dull drills.  Slow drills.  Painful drills with no novocain.  And a dentist that kept saying, "Hold still."  Those are awful words.

How much is a tooth worth?  I'm going to find out.  At my age, it's worth a lot.  Much more than a new car.  When I walked into the endodontist's treatment room, I could estimate her equipment was in the zillions.  State of the art.  So you know she is paying off loans on it all.  Oh, well.  I'm glad she is there when I need her.  It took her years and years to get that degree.

All to save a tooth.  Thing is.....it's my tooth.

 I'm glad the election is finally over.  At least I thought it was over.  I am tired of the ranting on both sides.  Everybody wants to convert you--by telling you what is wrong with your thinking.  So far, all I've heard is what is wrong with the "Other" side.  Not what is right with their side.

When I want to listen to rational Republican theories, I call Larry Larmon.  When I want to listen to rational Democrat theories, I listen to Bob Webster.  They can intelligently discuss issues.  Berate others and denigrate people--well, I stop listening.

There isn't much discussion of issues anymore.  People just attack people.  Belittle their beliefs and call them names.  I find that distressing.  The media on both sides spout propaganda.  Exaggerations and falsehoods.

If you tell the same lie over and over again, people begin to believe it.

I am two things.  A Christian, and an American.  That's it.  I come from a time when Americans were united for the common good.  WWII.  Political wrangling didn't exist.  You didn't spout, you simply voted.

I'm ready for Jesus to come back, set up his kingdom and rule.  I don't think the world knows how to do it peacefully.  They just divide up sides and make fun of each other, or riot, or start wars.  It's sad.

Someone asked me today--why the disciples didn't write about Jesus sooner, why they waited.  I replied, "They thought he was coming back immediately.  What was there to write about? 

He hadn't overthrown the Roman Government as the people had expected him to do--the Messiah was supposed to come and be King of the Jews of the lineage of David. That didn't happen the way they thought, but He would be coming back soon to reign.  Like, really soon--they thought.

Years later, Luke, a believer, but who had never met Jesus personally, became concerned that the apostles and Christians who had known Jesus were being killed, and their story would be lost. 

So he began to write to a friend, "Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us...as they delivered them unto us, who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word; It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write to you in order...that you might know the certainty of those things in which you have been instructed." In other words, "We have to record the eyewitness accounts.  We have to write this down."

He is the one who wrote the story about the birth, Magi, Herod killing Jewish baby boys, etc. that no one else did.  Luke had to have gotten that story from Jesus' mother.  He said he wanted to tell the story--in order--accurately, by talking to the people who were the closest to Jesus.  Luke got the story down for us to read and got it right.  The other Gospel writers emphasized other things.  

I'm still wading through the book, "Consecutive Gospels."  It is really above my pay grade as a reader.  I haven't given up yet.  The author actually agrees with what I believe about the first Gospel occurrence that takes place, John 1:1.  "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."  You can't get any earlier than that.  John goes on to say that everything was created by Him.

The interesting thing about these verses is that he is referring to Jesus as the "Word."  And says that the Word is God. The only other passage I can find that outright calls Jesus "God," is when Thomas falls to his knees as he sees the resurrected Lord and says, "My Lord, and my God." 

Of course, God clothed himself in flesh and became a man.  Jesus was God Himself...it is alluded to again and again in scripture...but nice to see it so clearly spelled out for us. 

John, the apostle--then jumps right into the story he wants to tell.  He skips the birth, linage, and childhood of Jesus, and goes straight to the story of John the Baptist.  But in the Consecutive Gospel, that wouldn't be the next thing.  Next would be the angel speaking to Mary.  I want a book with four columns side by side with the events as they actually occurred.  Many of those columns would be blank as the story unfolds in sequence because the four writers didn't write about the same things. 

 I had quite a hectic, unusual day yesterday.  I flat forgot to post.  Today, I'll just wish you a blessed Thanksgiving.  I'm staying home.  I had someone tell me I was living in fear of Covid.  They obviously don't know me at all.  I would say I am very sensible and cautious.  

I don't remember ever being afraid of anything since my mom used to drag me to the cellar in a tornado warning--and later, when back in Oklahoma by myself with three kids (Ken was in Viet Nam) trying to get them to the cellar by myself when the whistle blew.  Protecting my chicks from possible harm.  The whistle was worse than the storm.

I truly do not like surprises.  I like careful planing so that all outcomes which are negative can be avoided.  That is not fear.  I call that wisdom.

I've lived through too much to be afraid of anything.  The worst thing that can happen to someone is to be stupid--and endanger yourself or others when you could have prevented harm. It disrupts your family's lives. 

I opt for wisdom and prevention.  Perhaps, because I have fifteen or more major scars and stitches on the "container" God put me in, I am careful.  Only one of those scars was an accident. Live and learn. 

I'm headed for heaven one way or another.  God's taken care of that.  I just want to enjoy the here and now without being too difficult for those around me.  Like all older people, I want to take care of myself until the expiration date on the bottom of the carton has expired. 

 

 I don't like being stuck in the house.  But the mayor of Oklahoma City asked all of us to stay put for ten days and not have "in-person" groups.  I'm trying to be a good citizen, as well as not expose myself to the virus.

One of my friends from church who is 93 years old has been in the hospital with it for a month.  He has survived against all odds.  We old timers are in the high risk group.  I don't like the part where people are needing lung transplants.  I do not want to be sick.  I've had my share of that.  It's a bummer.  Staying well is my goal.

My friend Rebecca Perkins sent me three books to read.  She read the blog where I said that I wanted a Consecutive Gospel book.  She found one and mailed it along with two of her favorites from this year.  So I have something to read.  However the Gospel book is for brains and I am having trouble with all of the background information.  I took it to bed with me last night and only got through two or three pages.

I turn the TV on for background noise.  There certainly isn't anything to listen to. My neighbors are keeping me supplied with food.  My friend Jeanette brings me what I need when she goes to the grocery store.

I am so blessed.  I came here four years ago and didn't have any friends in Edmond.  Life is better with friends.  A guy I graduated from high-school with--he lives in Tulsa--calls every now and then, and talks about things he did when were young--that he should have been expelled for--and keeps me laughing.  He is a hoot.  He lived here in Edmond for years, taught at the church I go to, so we know people here in common.  Thank God for telephones, books, computers and Wheel of Fortune and friends!!

 I still have people staying with me.  In all three guest bedrooms.  It's like being in the military again, getting transferred, sleeping on someone's sofa bed--when someone  puts you up until you get housing.

One of the bedrooms has a blow up mattress they found somewhere and brought with them for one of their teenagers to use.

You might not even know the people who are staying with you.  In the Marine Corps, it didn't matter whether you knew them or not.  Everyone took care of everyone else.  By the time you found a house, you ended up being part of your host's family for life.

You don't send them flowers, or candy, or anything else.  You just do the same thing for the next Marine family that needs a place to stay.

Life has been chaotic since the ice storm.  Branches are still lying on the sidewalks.  Still stacked six to eight feet high--but shrinking as they dry out.  And of course, the virus has shut everything down.  

I checked out Facebook today and decided that half the world is nuts.  I think it is a platform to say bad things to people, and even worse, about people and remain anonymous.  I think I've been cooped up too long.

 

I was awakened this morning at five-fifteen by strobe lights.  Police cars, fire truck...I knew what it meant.  My friend Dean across the street had lost an earthly battle and gone to heaven.

He and Jeanine had spent the days during the power loss with me--I had power, they didn't.  He was so sick.  She was so exhausted.

Dying is an unruly affair.  Those who love you keep trying to help you with the struggle you are going through...oxygen, morphine shots, but it is an unruly ballet with doctors, nurses, health care workers...

It is hard to watch.

For the ones left behind, there is a chasm, a moment of "...what am I supposed to be doing now that this is over..."  A period of disorientation.  Everything you've been doing for weeks and weeks suddenly stops.

People bring food because they don't know what else to do.

When you lose your life partner, you have to reinvent yourself.  You don't belong to anyone special anymore.  My friend Jeanine is going to start a new journey.  It's not an easy one...but over time...you learn the "aloneness" part of your vow, "Til death do us part..."

 

 The young man--Stephen Draper--that stopped by and cut up and stacked my oak limbs--now has Covid. He was just out helping people. He has a four year old little boy as well as a daughter.  He says every breath feels like he is inhaling a blowtorch of fire.  He's a photographer for Channel 9.

Jay, the man two doors down from me, went to Texas to help his older parents.  They had Covid.  His father was subsequently hospitalized and died.  Jay caught the virus and has been on a ventilator down in Texas for over a month.  He passed away yesterday.  

Jay is the man that showed up at three in the morning because I thought someone was breaking into my house.  I had never met him but a neighbor I called, called Jay--who had a gun, inspected the house and premises and declared everything was ok.  I had a raccoon in the attic!!!  We have been friends ever since.  It makes me so sad to lose my neighbor.  He was one of the good guys.  Too young to die from Covid.

I was headed to the book store yesterday to get a copy of the chronological Gospels.  I want to read the four Gospels in the order things occurred.  I was talking to my brother Bill (doctor) and he said, "Don't go to the bookstore.  Don't."  He said the virus was out of control right now and exposure was almost guaranteed.  I didn't go.  I can wait two months for the vaccine.  Better safe (for a couple of months) than sorry--or dead.  

The streets are lined with tree limbs in stacks six to eight feet tall.  You can't use the sidewalks.  Everything is covered up with limbs.  And their leaves have dried and fallen off and are crumbling.  The air is filled with leaf dust.  Last night on the news, the weatherman said this area is in the fire danger red zone.  If any of the stacks of limbs catch fire, the whole area will burn.  There would no way to stop it.  Drying wood everywhere.

I will never forget the sound of the ice storm.  As the weight of the ice collected on the leaves of the trees, it was so heavy it broke huge limbs and for hour upon hour the air was filled with the sound of cracking limbs as they snapped and fell to the ground.

The chance of a person hearing a limb crack would normally be small.  But for days, the limbs cracked and fell every minute or two.  The snapping sound ringing in the air.  Limbs so large that I wasn't able to drag them to the street.  So large it took a chain saw manage their length.

You would think the ice storm would be over by now, but the city is just now starting clean up and I doubt they will reach my area for months and months.  If then.  Thousands and thousands of homes have limb debris stretching miles and miles down the streets.  And the countryside looks like someone dropped a bomb.  It's a mess.  

 Yesterday, I went to look at the estate sale that Becky is setting up.  I can't imagine how one person could have collected so much stuff in a three bedroom house.  Every inch in the kitchen was covered.

Every piece of Fostoria ever made, Tupperware, Pyrex, etc.... Stuff that had never been used stacked in the kitchen.  And one of the bedrooms with stuff on shelves from floor to ceiling with Christmas decorations engulfing the entire room.  Wreaths that were hand made, boxes of ribbons to make wreaths, and plastic boxes to store the wreaths in.

I came home with a new intent--get rid of things.  I have never put anything in the attic of any home I have lived in.  I also don't have anything in a storage shed except a wheelbarrow and a shovel.  So it won't be too hard.  

I never understood attics and sheds.  They just eat your stuff.  Once in there, whatever is there is useless.  I think someone out there in the real world might use some of it.  Give it away.  Or it will end up in an estate sale selling for next to nothing.  Your kids won't want your collections.  They have collections of their own.  

I was looking at my living room the other day, and aside from the piano, there is only one other thing I would keep.  It is something Becky made me out of the scraps from my bridesmaid's dresses.  A bouquet of little flowers shaped from the fabric.  Everything else--cranberry glass, Dresden, oil paintings, etc. are just stuff.  I gave my wedding dress to Lisa and she wore it in her wedding at least 25 years later.  Give stuff away.

 

Friday I wrote about the "first" problem with free college--which is if you give the funding to the student.  That system means: the student has the government's money, and the only way the college can get the funds they desperately need is if they can recruit the student that has that funding.

The second problem with that system is that government grants don't depend on whether the student is prepared or not.  Once you recruit a student who is government funded--you then have to keep him enrolled to get his government funds--meaning: college teachers have to pass him for another semester for the college to get the money it needs to survive.

Every semester I got a notice from the administration--a record of my pass/fail average for every class.  Why?  Because the administration wanted me to pass more students.  Colleges are trying to survive. And that means marginal students must pass classes for the college to get federal funding they bring with them.  "Just pass them," is implied.

Some instructors complied--probably to keep their jobs.  I didn't.  It was just wrong.  I also got calls from coaches all over the U.S. asking me to change grades for football players I had failed.  Failed because they didn't come to class and didn't make a passing grade. "Just change the grade to a D-." Years later I checked grade books I had submitted (before computers) and found out "someone" had changed some of my grades.

A better system would be to adequately fund colleges--perhaps for a certain set number of students.  ACT and SATS scores would then have some meaning.  And students that weren't prepared for college could remediate at the local level.  Everyone should have an opportunity--but with the current system, a lot of tax money is going down the drain. 

I hear that the local schools can't find enough substitute teachers.  Duh.  Why would you want to substitute in a Corona infection site.  Two of the teachers in my family have reported that every day, someone in their class tests positive and everyone gets quarantined.  You can't teach like that.

What about free college education?  One of the problems I encountered at the college level:  If a student controlled the federal money he spent on college--the college wouldn't have adequate funding unless they could entice that student to come to their institution.  It became a contest among colleges for students who had federal funds.  

It put colleges in the business of recruiting--to find prospects that had government funding--instead of finding those who were prepared for college. Junior colleges--by the time I retired--had become first year remedial institutions.  That was the unintended consequence of funding students instead of funding colleges.

Along with other professors--I was sent to high schools to recruit these students.  A high percent of them were not ready for college, came one semester, and were gone.  Federally funded--that didn't accomplish anything.  Many weren't ready for college.

By the time I retired, half of my teaching load was remediation.  Basic arithmetic, Algebra I and Algebra II.  Junior high courses--that don't count toward college graduation.  You can't enroll in College Algebra--the basic college requirement in math--without being prepared for it.  Students could have taken remediation courses at a local high school much cheaper. Where he would not be using federal funds for room and board. Incidentally, Oklahoma has the greatest Vo-tech schools in the nation.  Funded by the Oklahoma tax payer.  Why do we push college???   

 I have been writing the story of my brother's life.  He mentioned that when he was recruiting people to move to China and help him with his medical work there, he warned them--that if they went to the movies and bought a corn dog that it would really be rat on a stick.  He told me he ate everything you can imagine.  To refuse food at a banquet was an insult to the Chinese.  Roasted maggots, fried scorpions, fish-eye soup, etc.  The Chinese said he had the stomach of a goat.  It was a compliment. 

This was way back when China wasn't open to any other countries.  He had gotten in by offering to show them new treatments and American medical technology.  They didn't have anything at the time.  No anesthesia except acupuncture. Medical equipment was primitive or nonexistent.

He eventually set up an exchange for doctors at Bowman Grey to come into China for two weeks to give on site training in just about everything.  Cyrus Vance, Sec. of State, was not happy.  Bill hadn't asked for Mr. Vance's permission.  He also came under scrutiny of the CIA. What he did  was a first.  Hard to believe that fifty years ago nobody could get into China.  He was a missionary in Macau and Hong Kong for 37 years.

They dubbed him The Macau Maverick.  Always pushing boundaries.  Crossing into restricted countries didn't seem to deter him.  It's a miracle that he wasn't thrown in prison.  Sharing Christ was a China no-no. 

  

I don't know any of the current names of famous people.  That is when you know that you are definitely "Over the Hill."  I don't know what happened to Spencer Tracey, Hedy Lamar, Deborah Kerr, or any other of the names that used to be up in lights at the theater.

I also don't know any of the "Shows" on TV.  I don't have Netflix or any other movie venue.  I watch Dr. Pol pull calves and mend broken legs. Or National Geographic explore jungles.  This morning I am watching Greek history in the "Drain the Ocean" series.  Which is interesting.

I knew the Mongols invaded Japan in the 1200's; what I didn't know was that 4000 of the Kublai Khan's (grandson of the Genghis Khan)ships were lost at sea in a weather disaster trying to invade Japan--dubbed a miracle by the Japanese who were greatly outnumbered and being slaughtered. 

Ancient history is interesting.  It gives insight into the animosity between China and Japan today--and the fight over Taiwan.

It's what is going on today in the world that escapes me.  What are the leaders of the world trying to accomplish?  Why do people want to rule the world.  When do you reach the point that the money in the billions is enough.  I'm content watching ancient history.  The Greeks seemed to have their act together.  Others seemed interested in power and war.  

My class has been slogging through the Old Testament book of Isaiah.  It is an often quoted book, but you have to read three or four chapters to get to a quotable verse.

The staff that decides what is in our quarterlies has some desire for us to get through the entire Bible in five years.   I don't know who thought that idea up.  If you were a new learner, you would give up.  It's war, war, war.  Rebel, get punished, repent.  Rebel, get punished, repent.

If I was in charge of content, I would choose New Testament writings with a dab of Old Testament.  A "little dab'll do ya."  (Brill Cream--for those of you who are too young to remember.)

The entire Bible is important--no doubt about that.  But some parts are more relevant to us than others.  Salvation, Application, Growth.  In that order.  History is not at the top of the list for new Christians.

Okay.  I'm done complaining about quarterlies.  In three weeks, the weekly quarterlies will be over the book of Luke.  I love Luke, so I'll be a happy camper.  I think my difficulty with Isaiah is that it requires so much more effort to prepare the lesson and make it interesting.

Maybe I'm just lazy?

 It's Monday again.  The election is over.  I have not written about it and don't intend to.  It made me weary.  I've voted for president fifteen times in my life.  Sometimes presidents do good things, sometimes not so good.  It doesn't seem to matter which party they belong to.

My yard has no broken limbs--they are all cut into six foot lengths and stacked up on the street.  But underneath where they were lying are a zillion acorns.  You can't even see the grass for the acorns.

It has cost $572.00 so far.  Not covered by insurance of course.  I asked my agent (my daughter-in-law Stacy) why the home insurance rates in Edmond are so astronomically much higher than Pryor.  She told me that Edmond was the center of America for wind, sleet, ice, tornados, roof damage, broken fences, etc. etc.  Rates are based on disaster.

This year, I think it is Louisiana.  Five hurricanes so far.  Living without power for two days was bad.  I wonder if Louisiana is going to be like Puerto Rico with power down for years?

Edmond area still doesn't have power in some places.  The man who rototills my garden and mulches my flower beds worked on my yard for six hours Saturday and still isn't through.  He said he doesn't have power yet.  I don't know how Louisiana is doing it.  Highest hurricane year yet.  

 Ann and I went to the garage sales today--as we do every Friday.  Breakfast first.  We talked about our fathers.  They were both such wonderful men.  Ann and I were raised by both of our families--we lived down the street from each other.  Both of our mothers (sisters) were bossy.  We toed the line with both of them.  Both of our fathers were thoughtful and kind and made life bearable. 

I guess it took all four of them to raise us.  I know both of us are grateful for the parents we had.  Both sets.  It never occurred to me that Ann's parents weren't in charge of me.  I just thought I had two sets of parents.

All of them were exemplarily Christian people.  The two of us grew up with a charmed childhood and everyday give thanks for it.

The only friction was between my mom Margie and Ann's dad Cleo.  They both claimed Ann's mom Ruby as their own.  My dad was the peacemaker in the family.  He didn't ever get ruffled.  

I have a picture of Ann's mom and mine walking down main street in Ft. Smith.  They are smiling dressed to the nines.  My mom had just found out she was pregnant with me.  It would be seven more years before Ruby had Ann.  She couldn't seem to carry a baby to term.  So when Ann was born, looking at her in her mom's arms was like looking at the Madonna and child.  Ruby never had another child.

 I have two grandsons who each call me two, three times a week.  I think back when I was their age and recall that I never called anybody.  It makes me wish I had done better.  A phone call means a lot now.

I was married three weeks, had left Oklahoma for Pensacola, Florida and got a phone call from my mom--long distance phone calls never happened in our world.  "Why haven't you written!!  We didn't know if you got there, were alive, or drowned in the Gulf.

Back then (1956) no one could afford a long distance call.  I-phones were something not even imagined yet.  Every communication was by mail.  If you asked someone a question, it took three days for them to get it and three more to get an answer.  Today's population have no idea how to wait for an answer.  No idea how communication was so difficult back then.

It hadn't occurred to me to write my mom.  I knew I was okay.  And at the age of 18, I had no idea what it was like to be a mom and worry about someone.  I had no worries.  "I'm fine I told her."

"You have to write us.  You have been ours for eighteen years!! You can't just walk off the face of the earth like this."  I just didn't think about somebody worrying about me or that I needed to communicate.  I got better at communicating.  But never as good as my two grandsons. 

Messed up today.  I guess I went brain dead from all that has been going on.  I'll do better tomorrow.

 Nine o'clock last night the power came back on across the street.  My house guests were able to sleep in their own beds.  There's no place like home.  

Everyone has dozens of items that they put in a particular place and never have to wonder where that item is.  But in someone else's house, the question, "Where do you keep..." is the norm.  You are confused and spend way too much time "looking" for something.   I said to Jean, "Open closets, doors, cabinets and drawers.  My house is your house.  Once you know where everything is, it will get easier."  It did.  

Dean cleaned the filters in my Koi pond every day the first year I moved here.  I couldn't do it.  I would hear him in my back yard puttering around with the pump or filter--and thank God for such a wonderful neighbor.  I'm glad I finally got to help them, too.  They have both been like family since I moved to Edmond.

This is going to be a year to remember.  Or forget.  On the other hand, it may be good to get everything bad over in one year instead of stretching it out over two or three.

I'm having a hard time believing that it's November.  Nothing is normal--except for our God.  How do nonbelievers cope with no hope!!  

My poor neighbors still have no power.  He is very ill and wants to go home, and of course he can't.  She is trying to care for him--in my strange house--she's doing her best.  I feel so sorry for them.  At least she is able to run back and forth to their house for the things they need.

They got word today that their power won't be back on before Friday.  I've never seen a power outage in Oklahoma like this.  One small circle around Edmond is devastated.  Trees are still in the roads.  Limbs are lying everywhere. 

I had a young man come by my house and tell me he was going to clean up my yard this week.  One of my Sunday School members sent him.  He is a photographer for Channel nine--a Christian--and is trying to help people in his spare time.  I am thrilled to death to have someone.

You can't hardly get help.  Every able-bodied worker in town is loaded with work.  You can hear the chain saws.  The young man said, "No," he wouldn't let me pay him.  I told him, "I'm paying you.  If you don't want the money, give it to a charity of your choice."  He grinned at me.

I can sometimes be set in my ways. 

I've been reading the book of Luke.  Every now and then, I like to go back to the four Gospels and see what Jesus actually said.  The Old Testament of the Bible is all about what he is going to say--and the remaining New Testament is about what others had to say about Him.

The reason I am a believer is because of the testimony of the people who knew Him, wrote about Him, changed their lives as a result of what they saw and heard, and subsequently died to get the message out.

One person's account might be interesting.  Two people saying the same thing might perk your ears up.  Eleven people saying the same thing, dropping their day jobs forever and striking out on their own in different directions to tell people that Jesus died, was crucified, was buried and done with--but miraculously they had seen him alive a week later--that He was risen from the dead, well, that is convincing.  

I especially love a good doubter.  Give me the testimony of Thomas at the top of the list.  Ten disciples saw Jesus, told Thomas about it, and Thomas refused to believe them.  Jesus came to Thomas, held out his nail-scared hand and Thomas said, "My Lord, and my God."  And Jesus said, "You believe because you have seen me.  Blessed are those who believe without seeing me."  That's me.  That's you.  We are "Blessed..."

God is in control of weather.  We can't stop it.  We can't change it.  We can't avoid it.  Man just thinks he is in control of things in the world.  Roofs are damaged.  Cars smashed.  Ice storms, hurricanes, earthquakes, tornados--and fires on the West coast are raging.

My yard looks like a war zone.  Every house on my street looks the same way.  Every tree is split, torn apart or bent over to the ground.

The entire side of the street opposite my house is still without power.  I feel so sorry for them, but at the same time, I thank God my power came back on.  I have a happy-guilty feeling.  So sorry for my neighbors.  I've invited them to take advantage of my extra bedrooms.

The news this morning told us to hold back our garbage cans because there will be no service for days.  Every person on city crews is clearing trees and branches off the streets.  Chain saws are roaring.

Perhaps we need to be reminded from time to time that we are totally dependent on electricity. The adjustment to life without it is terrible.  I guess if you lived in the country, had chickens, cows, goats, and had canned everything in your garden after you picked it, you would survive.

We city folk wouldn't.  What havoc such a small thing as ice can inflict.

Just in case I might lose power...became reality.  No power by noon yesterday and my phone charge was 15%.  I went to the car to plug it into the charger in the car and of course couldn't find where to plug it.  Finally pulled out the change drawer and it was behind (!!!) the back and underneath it on the dash.  No way to see it if you didn't pull the drawer out and look under and behind it.  I guess the Lincoln Town Car people didn't want you to look like you were a smoker.  Ruins their image?

David came over and drove me to Becky's.  I haven't ever seen such devastation other than after a tornado.  Blocked roads.  Trees down through roofs.  Limbs everywhere.  My oak trees in front of the  house are in pieces all over the yard.  Ice everywhere.

I came home last night.  The power came on.  However...at 7 this morning it was off again.  When it finally came back on, I backed the car out of the garage and parked it in the driveway.  I wasn't able to lift the garage door without the automatic electric door opener.  I felt totally trapped.  If more limbs fall, they will get my car.  What a mess.

I called Craig and asked him to get me a generator that is automatic.  I don't ever want to go through anything like this again.  I have an automatic electric recliner.  This morn, when the power went off, I was totally reclined with my feet up.  All of you would have laughed watching me get out of the thing.  I didn't realize how wimpy I am.

 I went to get the mail for myself and a neighbor (who is in the hospital), and both of our mail boxes were sealed shut with ice.  I had to brave the slick driveway and sidewalk a second time to get a hammer to bang the mailboxes open.  

The trees still have green leaves, leaves that are now coated with ice.  This hasn't ever happened in my memory because it never freezes or ices up until the leaves have already fallen.  The ice that is coating the leaves is so heavy,  limbs are breaking all over town.  And breaking power lines.

All of the houses on the other side of my street have lost power.  When I went to get the mail there was a huge boom at the end of the street.  And then another, and another.  Sounded like a plane crash.  I bet it was a transformer.

I was watching TV--thankful that I had power--when it occurred to me that I probably ought to get candles and matches out.  Just in case.  And a flashlight. All my flashlights were dead but one.  Thank goodness for the one.  I'll rectify that and purchase batteries as soon as the ice melts. 

It is terrible when it is cold with ice coming down outside and the power goes out. But sleet is better than freezing rain.  Only an Okie would say that.  We understand weather. 

 I thought that surely--by now--things would be getting better, but yesterday was the highest count for Corona virus to date.  All I can say is, "Get your flu shot."  You don't want to fight both of them.  I got mine.

I put the ingredients together (double batch) in a huge pan for a breakfast casserole.  When I bake it, I put it in long sheet cake pans and when done, cut them into 48 portions, wrap in plastic wrap, and freeze them.  I can do it all except stirring it together.  My arm isn't strong enough. It lasts at least three months.  Solves the problem of what to eat for breakfast.  

Saturday, I knew Scott was coming by before he went back to Pryor, so I put everything together, and when he got here I asked him to please stir it all up for me.  He did. I can't do that part any more.  He was in Edmond for his grandson's birthday.  I didn't go.  I'm being extra careful.

Breakfast is always a problem for me because I don't like milk or eggs.  Today, I ate a meatloaf sandwich.  Whatever is left over in the fridge is what I end up eating for breakfast.  Makes no difference to me.  I'll eat about anything if it doesn't have a milk base.  No, I don't eat ice cream either.  Yogurt--no.  I'll eat cereal dry.

I know.  It's not normal.  But it's always been that way.  I don't like sweets either.  Occasionally, pie.  No chocolate.  Pound cake--yessss... 

 A couple of days ago, I was in the kitchen doing something or other and looked up to see a mouse running down the hall toward my bedroom.  I had mice in this house when I moved in and called Tony to find where they were coming in and get rid of them.  He did.

He found a hole in the heater closet in the ceiling--they were goin into the attic and coming down through the studs in the wall to the inside.  Tony fixed it.  Closed off the entry points, sealed up everything--no more mice.

Only thing I can think of is that I left the garage door to the house open for a minute when I went into the garage to get something from the freezer.  And a mouse took advantage of the opportunity. 

So, I set traps.  Nothing for two days.  Not even any evidence of mice anywhere.  And then, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I happened to glance into the bath tub and a very small little mouse was looking up at me.  He had probably fallen off the bath platform ledge--but how he got up to the ledge is a mystery. You could tell he was exhausted from trying to climb up the slick sides of the tub to get out.

It took a bit of time, every time I almost grabbed him he would jump up in the air.  But I finally got him and took him outside where he belonged.  He said, "Thank you.  You are a very kind lady."  I said, "Don't come back."

I absolutely detest it when some strange thing appears on my computer.  I have no idea what to do.  I usually call Becky and she fixes it.  But then, it sometimes leads to new problems.  And I always find out what they are after she leaves.

Today, I found out that the problem--the one that occurred after the first problem was fixed--was that I can't get into my Libby library account.  I can't use the search engine to find out what I want to read next.

Pat will help me tomorrow with that.  She will have to set that library account up again.

I can't back up and erase on my Word Program.  I'll have her fix my short-cut commands as well.

I have two brilliant daughters who take pity on me.

Craig met with me yesterday to consult with a lawyer.  I'm thinking about  how "checking into heaven" can be made easier for my children.  He has graciously consented to manage everything.  He is such a good person.  He also changes my refrigerator filter and my heater fan filters.  That's the kind of son-in-law everyone needs.  Not only smart, but handy as well.

 Today, I am getting my finances in order!  I admitted to my friends Carolyn and Jeanette that I hadn't balanced my checkbook in four years.  Jeanette threatened me.  Carolyn made me ashamed.  That's what good friends do.

This--from a mathematician!  It all just got away from me when I moved to Edmond.  I was renovating a house, in a strange place, overwhelmed with details.  One thing led to another, one month went by, then another, everything seemed okay.  (Bank wise, that is.)

But now.  I have an honest balance in my account.  To the penny.  It feels good.  I kept it that way for sixty years--I just fell of the wagon.  

Ken was always gone.  He expected me to keep up with all the bank things.  I wrote the checks, paid the bills, decided what we would buy and what we couldn't afford.

When he came home from Viet Nam and retired, I handed him the check book and said, "Here.  You figure it out.  I'm done."  He said, "How much do you need each month to run the house."  I told him.  He put it in my check book.  What I didn't say was that we had never had that much.  He came back later and asked, "How did you make this work?"  I told him that he asked me how much I needed--not how much I was getting by on.

 Hezekiah's father Ahaz didn't trust God.  He turned to the Egyptians because they had chariots and horses.  Sennacherib--the king of the Assyrians (A violent country, just as it--Iraq--is today) was stalled, on the northern border of Jerusalem as they were getting ready to invade.

An interesting thing about the account--given in several books of the Old Testament--is that it is also validated in archeological history.  Sennacherib wiped out 28 cities before he laid siege to Jerusalem. 

In the British Museum in London they have the actual carved walls that lined Sennacherib's palace in Assyria.  I've been to the British Museum, seen the carved panels (which are dozens upon dozens of feet long on both sides of the museum wall) and they are impressive.  Every time Sennacherib defeated a city, he had his artists carve a rendition of the events of the battles in the order they happened onto the palace halls.

Interesting to note that the accounts in the Bible are one-hundred percent validated by archeology. But then, we know the Bible always speaks truth.

By the time Sennacherib was sitting outside ready to invade, Ahaz was dead and Hezekiah was king.  Hezekiah turned to God instead of Egypt.  The Assyrians were wiped out as they waited to invade, "...one hundred and fourscore and five thousand died in the night."  God always wins.

 You remember the old saying--or was it a song..."Thank God for Unanswered Prayers." Well, Sunday, our lesson was from Isaiah.  About Hezekiah, the prophet, the leader of the remaining Israelites in Jerusalem. Hezekiah was very sick; he was dying, and he prayed for God to extend his life.  It was not God's plan for Hezekiah to live longer, but since Hezekiah had lived an obedient life, God listened.

God answered his prayer and gave him fifteen more years.  In Second Chronicles 33:1, we read that Hezekiah's son Manasseh begins to reign when he is twelve years old.  Which means he was born three years after Hezekiah got fifteen more year of life. (Math.)

Manasseh is described as evil.  He built alters in "high places" to idols.  He worshiped strange gods and abandoned the God of his father Hezekiah.  It would have been better for Israel if Manasseh had never been born.  But Hezekiah got what he prayed for--and later, had an evil son. Manasseh led Israel away from their God into idol worship--an abominable leader. 

I couldn't help but think that sometimes, we need to think about what we are asking God to give us.  Because sometimes, He does.  And sometimes it isn't good for us.  Or others.  But God says he will hear us.  He says, "Ask, and you shall receive."  Probably it's better to pray for His will. 

 I have always enjoyed reading the short list of instructions at the end of the first book of Thessalonians.  It clarifies the things I am supposed to be doing in my everyday life.  1 Thessalonians 5:14-22

1. Warn the unruly.   2. Comfort the feebleminded.   3. Support the weak.   4. Be patient with everyone  5. Don't render evil for evil.

6. Follow that which is good.  7. Rejoice evermore.  8. Pray without ceasing.  9. In everything give thanks--because this is God's will.

10. Don't quench the Spirit.  11. Don't hate prophesy.  (On this one--we must remember that there is no new prophesy.  The words of Christ ended with one unfulfilled prophesy--that he is coming again.  All prophesy is about His first appearance, or the second return of Christ.  If someone says they have a new prophesy--you need to run.  They are anti-Bible.)

11. Prove all things. (Fact check)  12. Hold fast that which is good.  And last....   13. Abstain from all appearance of evil.  (All of it.) 

Then comes the promise: "And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly...faithful is he that calls you who also will do it."  I try to live by these instructions.  Sometimes I'm successful.  Sometimes I'm not.  But they are always in my mind as God "grows" me day by day.

 

When I met Ken, he had a zillion reel to reel music tapes of classical music.  I have no idea how he taped them, but he was always listening to classical music.  I think he started the collection when he got back from Korea.  It was a sad day when technology advanced away from reels.

Me...a teen in the fifties...it was Elvis, Little Richard, Fats Domino, The Mcguires, Bee-bop-a-lulu.

After I married the guy, I converted to classical.  It wasn't a stretch, my piano teacher had me playing classical for nine years anyway.

I still have the radio station tuned to the station Ken left it on in the car he drove.  Classical.  The car is sitting in the garage.  Perfect condition.  I don't drive it very often, but when I turn the key, the music comes on.  Bach, Mozart, Beethoven...

I never figured out how he got hooked on Classical.  There were no musicians in his family.  It wasn't your typical Marine fighter pilot type of music.  But then, Ken wasn't your typical Marine.

The first thing he bought--when he finally made a little more money than we had to have--was a piano.  For me.  I dug out my sheet music and would play classical renditions.  For him.  He loved it. 

My daughter Pat texted me off and on yesterday to ask how I was doing.  It was Ken's birthday.  I'm not an emotional person, but days and events are things we do remember about people.  Pat has always been the sensitive one in the family.

Craig came over to help me with my finances.  Trying to get my ducks in line and clean up all the ifs, ands and buts.  He always has good advice.  I am blessed to have a son-in-law like him.

My lunches are now "Surprise A Meal."  I'm cleaning out the freezer from the one-portion things I have frozen in the past.  Today was delicious.  Chicken breast with basil-pasta.  Some days are not so good.

I have no idea what is going on with the book I wrote and Road-runner press bought from me.  My publisher has quit communicating with me.  I have no idea.  I sure have learned a lot about contracts.  She told me it would be out the Saturday after Thanksgiving in Edmond and the 5th of December in Pryor.  

So much for that happening.  Some people self-publish.  But they have to pay the publisher. (It's a racket.)  At least this company bought the book--but the company has control over when it comes out.  Right now, book stores aren't selling and publishers are holding new manuscripts back.

  

 Today is one of those days.  You know what I'm talking about.  It's 9:45 in the morning and I can't seem to find the "will" to go get dressed.  And to make it worse, I looked at Facebook--which is always a mistake.

I'm a fixer.  And Facebook needs fixing.  This morning's posts included every rude, cruel, and untrue piece of information that a person could possibly imagine.  Every word about a woman seemed to be a denigration of the way she looked.  Which meant she was a bad person.

Attacking people.  Making fun of people.  Telling lies about people.  Judging them by outdated, distorted, and mean comments.

This election has produced the worst in people.  I have yet to see anyone discuss an issue with any sense of knowledge on the subject.

People just rave and rant.

What has happened to us as a people?

I will be glad when this election is over and I can pray for our leaders--whoever they are.  We need to spend more time praying instead of yelling and pointing fingers.  God says to pray for our leaders of government whoever they are.  They certainly do--and will--need our prayers.