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.