I survived.  But blogging every day may be a thing of the past.  Julie, my adopted fifth child, told me to write about God changing his mind about something.  One thing I remember is (In the Old Testament) a man was told by God that he was going to die.  He begged for more time and God gave him fifteen more years.  In those years, he had a son who is one of the most evil people in the Bible.  Maybe it would have been better if he died when he was supposed to?

If God isn’t capable of changing his mind or being influenced by our prayers, why pray?  He says "Ask, and you shall receive.”  I don’t think we get everything we ask for sometimes...because it is not in the “Big Plan” or in our best interests (God sees the future)  but Jesus said  if your son asks for a good thing, will you give him a bad thing?  I would look it up but I don’t know how to write and search Google at the same time.  Tech incompetant.  I’ll try to get my quotes together next time I write.

A number of you have asked why I quit blogging....I have been really ill.  I thought for a couple of days I was done for.  I had a nurse for a week...which probably was what kept me going.

I don’t know what I would have done without my brother...He is the smartest doctor I know even on his worst day.  He coached me through it--by phone.  Along with an emergency room run and antibiotics.

Good thing is, I made it.  But I don’t know that I will blog every day for a while.  I am really tired. 

Someone said, I’ll pray that God’s will is done.  I said, “God is not the author of sickness.  Jesus spent day after day healing the sick.  Pray for healing.  It is never God’s will to make us sick.  And He says to come to Him and ask...”  He has been gracious and I am better...I’m on the mend.

 This is post 2530.  I don’t really believe that is possible, but when I multiply it out from nine years ago, I guess it is.  I wonder if I have used up all the words God has allowed me for a lifetime?

I might as well say it...I am not doing very well.  So I am not going anywhere, doing anything, or anything else.  I have someone coming in everyday to get me started.  That said, I will try to continue to bore you with the details of “nothing.”

God bless you.  I’ll keep keeping on if you will too.  In the last few days I have heard from dozens and dozens of you. Thanks.  I am better...and getting better.  I just have to figure out what I can eat and what I absolutely can’t.  I found out today that I can tolerate almond milk so that is a plus. I had never tried it.  

This year is evaporating, I’m still thinking in terms of January 2020 when all the crazy started.  I can’t seem to keep up.

Kidults...the new word for kid games for adults.  I love games, puzzles, etc.  Anything that makes me figure things out.  Maybe that’s why I became a mathematician? 

This year is winding down.  I still......don’t have anything Christmas up. I did go back to the closet and look at all of it.

I don’t need anything.  I don’t want anything.  I don’t want to take care of anything.  And the things I would like to have are foods the gastro-guy says I can’t eat anymore.

He left me some things that I like.  Right now it is all liquids.  Which is ok.  I can do it.  I get to add foods back one at a time to find which ones I can tolerate. 

I told my sister Lisa, and my brother Bill, that I am taking all the hits for the family so that they won’t have to.  I got all the genetic anomalies. 

    

Every day it is something new.  Friday night, I thought I had appendicitis.  Pain so bad I could hardly walk.  Becky took me in to the emergency room and said “Mom, quit talking.  Just let them take care of you.”  She knows me pretty well.  

It reminded me of when Ken had it and we couldn’t get him to go to the emergency room.  He kept saying he would be ok.  Jon and Scott picked him up under his arms and drug him to the car.  He was past the point of resistance.  It had ruptured already.  Marines.  They can be stubborn.

But I had a bad bout of diverticulitis.  I warn you all, don’t get that either.  Horrible horrible pain.  But today, I think I’m going to live.  The pain is better.  When I got to the emergency room, they rammed a needle up my arm and hit me with morphine.  Thank God for morphine.  Tomorrow I see a gut doctor and he will tell me what to do.  Basically, He’s going to tell me to quit eating anything I like.  I’ve been on a liquid diet for three days and that is the pits. 

I have been cleaning out paper....and ran across meaningful scripture that I had written down.  It caught my heart:  

“Who am I Lord and who is my house that you have brought me this far?”  2 Samuel 7:18-29.

That 18 year old girl who had never been anywhere, who married and was alone in a strange world of the Marine Corps...no friends, no car, no family, couldn’t cook, didn’t know how to do anything but play the piano and marimba...God has brought me a long way.  Who am I Lord? 

Five children, ten grandchildren, 9 great-grandchildren.....my “house” now that I have now.  I couldn’t have imagined it back then.  I can hardly imagine it now.

What do people do who don’t know God.  How do they make it through the ups and downs of living a life?

The tornado alley has moved east.  Oklahoma always got it.  Right up through the middle of America...every spring and summer.  But now, with the shift in the weather pattern due to warming of the earth, the tornados have shifted to Mississippi.

My friend Sally lives in Mississippi and every time I watch the weather now, it is going right over the top of her.  Those of us in Oklahoma have a storm shelter, or know someone who does.  The southeastern states don’t have very many of those.  They are at the mercy of the wind.  And it is destroying entire towns and killing a lot of people. 

I don’t have a shelter, but my neighbors do.  I’ve only gone to Jeanine’s twice since I moved here.  And only once of those times because of the siren--it came across the top of us, but lifted and jumped I-35.  My daughter Becky’s neighbor lost part of their roof.  But in 8 years being here...all I can say is “Thank You Lord,” and spare my Mississippi friend Sally.

Purpose.  That’s what I’ve been praying for.  I don’t have to feed Squig, or let him out now...so after I do the crossword, what do I do next?  I would not have ever imagined such a thought back in my thirties!!  But now, I don’t have a job, I don’t clean my own house, don’t have children...what do you do when you don’t have anything particular to do?

Well.  I have prayed for direction and yesterday I got a jolt of energy about a stack, (five or six stacks) of paper on my dinette table that I have been avoiding for a year (years).  I started sorting it yesterday, and today, I am putting paper into files.  So I can find what I want when I want it.  Which I haven’t been able to do for at least five years...since I moved here (across the street from where I lived when I moved here.)  I don’t know if you remember that story.  I had a steep driveway.  This house has a flat driveway.  I probably saved my life a dozen times trying to go to the mailbox.  Just by moving across the street.  I gave up three baths and three car garage  for two baths and two car garage.  And it’s still too big.  But in Edmond, that’s the way it is.

This morning when I sat down to read the paper, I noticed that the room was gloomy.  I hadn’t opened the blinds or gone out the back door in five days...because I didn’t have a dog to let out.  I might as well not have a back yard!!

So I opened the blinds and let the sunshine in.  I will go outside in the back yard come spring...I’m going to be a dope and try to plant okra again.  It will give me a reason to enjoy the back yard.  I worked really hard planting shrubs, astilbe, iris, asparagus, silver mound and purple clover...so I will try to keep it going another year!  

The weather has been so odd this year that I am surprised that any of it lived.  I had Ron cut the barberry back to the ground, it was 9 feet high and had taken over the flower bed.  It has already started to sprout again.  Life continues...I am better today, just still so sad.

The worst part is when I come home from somewhere and nobody greets me at the door.  For two days I thought I was never going to stop crying.  But today, I am just horribly sad.  I know that is the way it is going to be.  Sad, and lonesome.

I realized that since 1970 when Ken got back from Viet Nam, I haven’t had to go to bed by myself.  That’s fifty-two years.  Friday, Saturday and Sunday night I kept reaching out to see if Squig was there.  I know why a stuffed bear brings a little comfort.  I kept hugging my pillow.

Grief is one of the ways we know there is a God.  Only He understands where grief comes from.  When I have prayed these last few days, I have asked Him how he stands the death of all the people who reject his love.  I am reminded of the scripture that says, “What is man that you are mindful of him...?”  Why did God knowingly invent, create, people that have the capacity to break His heart?  It makes no sense.  Maybe that’s what love is.

My grandson David helped me bury Squig this morning.  I can’t stop crying.

Squig was so sick in the night, I held him...quietly, he looked in my eyes saying, “I trust you.”  It was time.  He let me hold him like that, until it was over. He just quietly waited on me. 

I’ve never cried like this in my life.  I think it is because everyone else that I have loved went in their own time.  Squig was depending on me to stop his suffering.  He just lay in my arms waiting.  He was ready, I wasn’t.

The vet who has cared for him this last year told me, “You have done a remarkable job of caring for this little dog through his illness...”  It didn’t help much.”  I did my best...it just wasn’t good enough.  The only thing that makes it bearable is that he is with God and like all the ones I have ever loved, I will hold them all again.

Here’s my advice for the day.  If you have a craving for lobster, don’t buy one of those packs of frozen packs of claws.  I succumbed, and when I tried to break them open, I found out why they were so cheap.  It took a hammer.  I had to go outside in the cold and crack them on concrete!

Carolyn had bought me some lobster thing-a-ma-jigs you break them open with years ago because she knew how addicted to lobster I was. (The guys used to take night flight time--which they had to get so many hours in--to fly to Maine and come back with the plane hold full of lobster)  But the lobster clamps couldn’t touch the shells they were so hard.

And when I finally got the meat soaked in butter, they were awful.  I threw it out.  And I never, never throw food out.  So, hearing all that, I’ve saved all of you from trying lobster that way.  Go to Red Lobster if you first hock your jewelry.

Monday.  What will I do this week?  I would never have asked myself that question ten or twenty years ago.  Maybe instead of “what will,” I should think “what can” I do this week!  The options are getting fewer and fewer.

Sunday, my class taught me that instead of trying to lift the big black bag out of the trash, I should turn the container on its side and pull the bag out.  Duh!!!  Why don’t I think of these things.  We do what we’ve always done without thinking about it until we can’t do it any more.

Like I’ve said in the past...all the people who have found easier ways to do things at this age have gone on to glory.  I’m learning.  I know I can’t lift a trash bag up and out of the container anymore.  Jeanine, my friend across the street will get the trash to the street.  She doesn’t have much and so she brings hers over and we just use one trash container.  One step at a time I’m learning stuff.

I lose my phone at least once a day.  Usually I can retrace my path and find it...if I can remember my path!!  It is very traumatic.

Today, I went to breakfast with Ann--as usual on Fridays.  We were on the way home and I realized I couldn’t find my phone.  We went back to everywhere we had been and I remembered I had sat down to wait on her on a sofa at one of the places.

And Ann...kind soul that she is to me...went back in so I wouldn’t have to walk and tear up the pain in my back.  She called my phone when she went into the place and sure enough, the phone had fallen out of the side of my purse and slipped under the cushions on the sofa I had been sitting on.

Thank the good Lord that the sofa hadn’t been sold yet.  I have got to start asking myself every time I move from one place to another...”do you have your phone?”  It is amazing how dependent we have become on our cell phones.  It is now my true brain storage place.

I think I skipped a day of posting.  Any more, I don’t even know when I do that!  I’ve been driving myself nuts editing.

My friend Carolyn was blessed by God with the gift of discernment.  Last night, in despair, I told her, “I can’t do this anymore.”  She said, “Janie, you are a great writer, but you are editing the wrong book and making yourself sick.  Stop it.”

  

Just like that!  She knows me really well.  First: encouragement--you are a good writer.  Second: You are stressing yourself over something you don’t want to do and wasting time on the wrong thing.  And third:  Stop it.

I went to bed last night with a light heart and didn’t need anti-acids.  I woke up this morning ready to edit what I’ve been wanting to edit instead of facing a job I was doing for a publisher I don’t know.  Thank God for friends.  They see right through us to the problems.

Edit, edit, edit...the new publisher wants me to “show” not “tell” my story.  Since I have always been a story “teller” I am having a difficult time converting my style.  And I really don’t want to-- which makes it difficult.   But....

If I want a traditional publisher, I have to learn to write what they want.  And I don’t want to self-publish unless it is a last resort.  That way to publish doesn’t get you into book stores, libraries, newspaper columns, book clubs or anything else that touches the public.  

You can self publish on Amazon for free....although there are dozens of advertisers telling you that they will publish your “Christian” book...send them money and they will “help” you.

Nope.  That’s a racket.  They give you nothing that you can’t do for yourself.  So...I am between a rock and a hard place.  I’m trying to “show” action instead of “telling” it.  Like I said...edit, edit, edit.  If I don’t get somewhere soon, I’ll self publish and let you know.

I am going through papers that have been sitting on that high chair I gave to my sister Lisa for over a year!!  I found this quote from someone--I don’t know who:

“One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is grieve the loss of a person who is still alive.” I was reminded of that quote when my friend Jeanette told me of her nephew who was in a rollover and lived hopelessly  unconscious for days after the accident.

My cousin Ann and I did that for our mothers who were sisters.  They both had Alzheimers.  It is such a long, sad, descent into nowhere.  You can’t reach them and they can’t reach you.

My plan for the rest of the day is to gain weight.  I’ve been eating everything that isn’t nailed down, but can’t seem to put the pounds back on.  I’ve even started drinking milk--which I don’t like.  Whole-fat milk.  I’m up one from last week.  Maybe it is working.  Everyone else I know is trying to lose weight.  

It is the end of the week again.  How this happens, I don’t know.  I turn around and the week is gone.  My sister Lisa (21 years younger than me) was here for turkey day and took a high chair home with her that has been used by dozens and dozens of babies through the years.  It was hers when she was small and all of my grandchildren and their children have used it as well. 

She was glad I had kept it all these years.  It is a carved solid wood, walnut-colored, pull up to the table chair... no tray...It fits exactly so that the arms of the chair go under the edge of the table and baby thinks they are grown up!  I’ve used it as an end table (!) to hold papers for years--papers that I intend to go through and never do...so I now have to do something with the papers.

She sent me a picture of Charlie...her first grand-baby...at her table...sitting in his grandmother’s (her) chair. I’m glad I hung on to it for 60 years.  It is a sweet picture to me.  So many babies in the family have used it.  It’s a “come to the table with the rest of us” chair!  You don’t have to sit off by yourself and eat off a tray. 

    We are going to be down tomorrow from 47 to 26 or so. Becky is once again going to host all who show up.  Kathy sent two pans of rolls, I’ve made dressing and gravy. Everyone brings something and it’s always a surprise.

    Squig went to the vet last night.  Fluids, appetite enhancer, etc.  It’s a monthly deal now.  His vet has hours from noon to night some days which helps.

    We celebrate thankfulness this week.  I am so thankful I can see, hear, walk, take care of myself, pay my bills, type, drive to the vet, have plenty to eat, have heat, home, electricity, running water...just think of all of the people in the world who don’t have the basics of life.  We are so blessed in this country...and don’t even think of all the things we have most of the time.  

    “Every good and every perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father of light in whom there is no variableness neither shadow of turning.”

Squig is going back this evening to see his favorite vet.  She calls him by his name and he crawls into her arms.  When I let him out of the car, he heads to the vet doors.  That is such a blessing.  It is hard enough to see him deteriorate, but liking his vet makes it easier for me.

He couldn’t keep anything down yesterday.  How do you know when to let him go to heaven?  He isn’t in any pain--that I can tell.  He sleeps all day and seems happy doing that.  He crawls under the covers every night to sleep where it is warm.

Yes...Squig will go to heaven.  Since Jesus is coming back on a horse, I know there are animals in heaven.  And as far as I know, Squig has never had a single sin, so he doesn’t need to repent.  I don’t know what the criteria are for a dog to go to heaven, but Squig is top dog in the area of “being good.”  He is such a sweet dog.  He is my best friend.

I was stacking up the bills that came in this last week to pay them, and my computer won’t let me do it.  Why??  It is just one more thing that my computer does to mess with my sanity.  I don’t know how to fix anything when it messes up. They say the thing to do is call your grandchild.  They know what to do.  

But the thing that irritates me is that I am going to have to put on my woolies tomorrow and drive to the bank, take my computer with me and get them to fix it.  I really don’t want to get out into the cold.  But I can’t even follow the instructions they give me when I call the service number.

All in all, the system is rigged to make me feel like an idiot.  And the scary thing is, maybe I am?  Why can’t I learn this stuff and all these keys on my Mac.  Why do I learn how to do one thing and forget another?  Computers were supposed to make things easier.  It may have happened for you, but it didn’t happen for me.  I stay confused.

This publisher that is communicating with me.....which in itself is a miracle--they seldom do that....wants me to revise the book to “show” the story rather than “tell” the story.   Where would a person start to do that!  And how?  I don’t have a clue how to do that.  I am a story teller.  My kids say, “Give mom three facts and she will make up the rest.”

I call Carolyn every time I write something and read it to her.  She has spent countless hours going over what I write because she loves me and believes that the stories I am writing are worth publishing.  So if Carolyn approves--and she has a Master’s in English composition--that should be the seal of approval.  I basically am satisfied once Carolyn gives her okay.

This new publisher has made me appreciate the publisher who is working on the first book I submitted.  She spent hours and hours on the phone with me going over every page, making corrections, rewriting a sentence...etc.  She called and worked on over 250 pages with me day after day, after day--until we were both satisfied.  It seems impossible to do what this second publisher wants...I need more help that “Telling me what she wants me to do.”  I need someone invested in it like Carolyn is.  But of course, that requires love.

I learned something yesterday.  Pat took me to Tulsa to the dermatologist I’ve been going to for forty years.  I like him so much, I thought it would be worth the trip of an hour and a half to go see him.  Nope. I can’t do it anymore.  I have reached the point that a trip of that sort is now out of the question.  

It is now the next morning and I am still suffering the effects of riding in the car, unable to stretch, giving up my heating pad, etc. etc.  Getting older is just a series of giving stuff up. I’m just having a terrible time knowing when to quit. 

I went to a new GP last week and she asked me, “Why are you here?”  I said, “I don’t know how to quit.  It seems like failing.”  And of course, I don’t like to fail.  But one by one, the things I used to be able to do, I can’t do anymore.  Unless I want to spend the entire next day sitting in a tub of hot water to soak the aches and pains.  Here’s my plan:  Be thankful for what I have left, and quit trying to be Wonder Woman.  That gal split a long time ago. 

There is a place in the Pryor park (15 mph limit) where--if you are going fast enough--you can fly over a hump in the road.  Which, (of course) my 16 yr oldest son had to try.

The lovely thing about a small town is that everyone is in on raising your kids.  It’s everyone’s job.  Before “that son’s” car hit the ground again, I had a phone call.  “xxxxx just took a fly on the park hill; thought you’ld want to know.”  I did want to know.

When he came in the back door, I didn’t say a word...just held my hand out, palm up.  The keys were deposited in my hand, and as far as I know, he learned his lesson.  But, of course, with raising a boy, there are dozens and dozens of lessons to learn.

I always appreciated the help.

Every now and then you hear one of those old sayings you hadn’t heard before.  I’m sure all of you know this one, but I hadn’t heard it:  “They’re too poor to paint, and too proud to whitewash.”

I doubt many of you know about whitewashing because you didn’t grow up in the 40’s...I doubt anyone uses whitewash anymore.  It’s kind of like watered down chalk.

We have dozens of sayings like that in our language.  I’m sure it is hard for people who speak another language to learn ours.  They say English is the hardest because it doesn’t exactly exist on its own, it just borrows words from other languages.

Ken used to say (when something was tight) “That’s as tight as Dick’s hatband.”  I asked him once what it meant.  He said he didn’t know, that it was just something his dad always said.  I don’t know what a hatband is anyway.  Men quit wearing hats long ago.  So did most women.  But back in the 50’s I had a dozen or so hats.  I took them to my booth at an antique store and a guy came in one day and bought them all as a present for his wife!!!...The women at his church still wore them.  He thanked me for saving them and not throwing them out.

Yesterday, I took my meds, only to find out that the pharmacy got the order wrong, which I didn’t know until later.  I don’t even look at it, but one of my friends was here and noticed it.  Thank God for friends.  

As a result, Jeanine..who usually helps me with that, didn’t come over to help me.  We may wonder sometimes why things go wrong.  But if the order had been right, Jeanine would have helped me, and she tested positive for Covid later that day.  And I didn’t get exposed.  Sometimes things go wrong for a reason??

Squig is holding on.  He is eating whatever he wants.  No more special diet.  No point in trying to extend his days by feeding him something he doesn’t want.  He is happier.  And he has quit throwing up.  He spends a lot of time in my lap.  We are growing old together.

 I am cooking supper this evening.  Roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, fried okra, and tabouli.   I haven’t cooked a meal in a year, so we will see if I still have the touch.

Becky has gone to Italy...so I am going to feed Craig.  David and Jennifer as well...and of course, Steven and my friend Jeanette.  She is coming over early to help me get it on the table.  They will all want  me to take some of Kathy’s rolls out of the freezer...we’ll see.  I’m not sure I want to share those!!!  

I went to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things....I hadn’t been in a long time.  The prices have more than doubled.  And shelves were empty.  Some things are no longer there. 

Money doesn’t go as far as it did a month ago.  People are going to be eating a lot of potatoes. 

Last night, I went sound to sleep at nine.  At ten after ten, someone yelled “Janie” really loud.  It was the strangest thing that has happened to me in a long time.  I hit the floor running...but nobody was there.  I checked the house.  Nothing.  Just me, myself, and I.  I wasn’t in a dream.  There was only that one word.  Nothing before that....or after.

But of course, I was wide awake.  So I was trying to think why I heard someone yell for me, and of course the story of Samuel came to mind.  And Eli, telling him to go back to bed...three times before Eli told Samuel it was God calling his name.

You can be sure that I explained to God that if He was the one who called me, that I was listening.  Maybe I was just supposed to remember and read about Samuel...and be aware that God does sometimes call our name.  I went back to bed.  Slept very well, no dreams or wake ups.  I just know now that if God ever does want to call my name, it will wake me up.   

I spent all morning at the AT&T store.  I gave up trying to talk to someone on the phone who reads from a card and talks and talks and talks and never answers the question you have asked them.  And when they answer you, it has nothing to do with  what you are asking.

My neighbor Jeanine across the street even took my bill and tried to negotiate with them....no luck.  Me-thinks they are a monopoly and don’t really have to deal with us anymore.

Anyway, the lady at the store got $18 off the bill, and then got another $40 off as well.  That’s almost $700 a year.  She didn’t know why they were billing me so much, and neither of us could figure out anything the people on the phone were telling us.  I guess I will find out what they did when the next bill comes.  I kept saying to the person on the phone, “Please...will you stop talking and listen for a minute...You are saying things that don’t have anything to do with what we are asking.  The lady at the AT&T store was frustrated with them as well.  I’m going to spend the rest of the day in peace and calm.

I went to vote today, and they had something I had never seen before...maybe I just missed it.  I parked in a handicap place, and a poll worker came to my car and asked if I wanted to vote from my car.  The area where I was parked was reserved for in-car voting.  I can’t tell you how much better it was than last time when I had to park, walk a zillion miles, and stand in line for an hour.  I can’t do that anymore.

The person who was in charge of that area took the ballot to the attendant and ran it through the machine.  Squig went with me, but they didn’t let him vote.  He was disappointed.  He was going to stamp the dog and vote Squigitarian.

All the arguing about how we vote is distracting.  Last year I voted by mail, but forgot to register to do that this year.  I will register to do that before I forget it.  There are thousands upon thousands of people who don’t vote because they can’t get to the place to do it, thousands who can’t walk to the booth, and thousands more who can’t stand in line.  That is a shame.

October is gone.  I just don’t know where.  This has been the fastest-slowest year I have ever lived.  Moment by moment was slow.  Month by month evaporated.

A lot of people I know have this respiratory virus that is going around and it is awful.

I was typing this earlier today---and had to stop...I got a nose bleed like Niagara Falls.  Couldn’t get it stopped so I had to go to the emergency room...and listen to elevator music for an hour.

All is well, but I’ll have to post tomorrow.

The world has forgotten how to think.  Everyone is arguing about stupid things.  I can’t help but think about what separates churches...speaking in tongues, when to be baptized, what day to go to church, whether the church saves you, healing, etc., etc.  instead of the point of it all which is:

Jesus came because we can’t save ourselves.  He died to save us from ourselves.  Our opinions about all of the things in the Bible really come down to two rules. 

1.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul.

2.  But....Love your brother in a different way altogether!!!  Love others as you love yourself.  Not with your “heart, mind, and soul,” but with care for them.  Treat them with kindness, forgive their mistakes, don’t judge, help them when they need help.    We need to rethink the way we approach religion.  It’s really pretty simple and doesn’t include things that divide us. 

 HEADLINE!!!!    BANNER DAY!!!  KATHY DAVIDSON SENT ME ROLLS.  FIVE PANS OF ROLLS.  

Love is a pan of rolls.  A lot of pans of rolls is a lot of love.  Five pans of rolls is so over the top it is impossible to imagine how long it took her to do it.  For me.  Who would do that....!  Twenty four rolls in each pan.  I’m in heaven.

Thing is, I don’t deserve that kind of love.  Kathy just simply made a decision to love me years ago and keeps on loving.  It makes me so very aware that I need to do better--be better--love better.  You can’t order those kinds of friends from a Sears and Roebuck catalog.  They are gifts.  Kathy knows how much I love yeast bread and for at least twenty years has been the undeserved “Yeast” in my life.

God is good.  He blesses us with friends who really care.  Don’t send me roses; don’t send me chocolate.  And you don’t need to send me yeast rolls.  Kathy has that covered.

  

So, the words Spirit, Holy Spirit, God’s gift, etc. through the book of Romans have been colored in blue.  We will finish the New Testament soon.  It became obvious that the book of Acts holds the record number of those notations--by far.

And since Luke wrote the book of Acts, it is an interesting take on what was important to him.  He had never met Jesus, so the Holy Spirit was of critical importance for him to.  (As it is to us.) He mentioned how people received the Spirit, where they were when the Spirit came, what they were doing at the time, and how the Spirit changed their lives.

Luke is my favorite New Testament person...Paul is my favorite writer.  Luke is very exact--he was a physician and always got the “prescription” correct.  Although I am sure Luke knew the disciples and heard what they had to say, Luke went to the source, the women, to get his stories about Jesus--Martha and Mary. He records their experiences and the story of Herod killing the babies, the birth of Christ, the shepherds, and wise men.  Other writers don’t do that.

It has been an interesting experience for me to color words in my Bible.  “Faith” is purple, “The kingdom of God” is in yellow, “Priest and High Priest,” are in orange...and so on.  Now when I read, I am much more aware of the author, and his word preference and subject preference.  Note that Paul uses the word “mystery” over and over again.  To him, it is no longer the priests and the law, it is the indwelling Spirit--and he calls that the mystery that God has hidden from the ages only to reveal to us with the resurrection.  “Christ in you...the hope of glory.”

 I am on point today.  Even though the girls came to clean the house, I didn’t let it interfere with my schedule list!  Even though Squig got up three times in the night to go outside and of course I am sleepy....I’m doing the next thing on the list...blog!

Today, I am going to color in blue all the times in the Word where the Holy Spirit, Spirit of God, etc. is mentioned in the book of Acts.  My friend Jeanette has prodded me because I mentioned it Sunday in class and she has already got it done.  She said that she would walk me through it.  And she has already done the entire Bible!!!

The reason I mentioned it Sunday was because of the discrepancies in the book of Acts as to how, when, where etc. the Spirit comes into our lives.  Of course we believe that we receive God’s Spirit when we allow Him--through repentance and our belief in the death of Jesus for our sins, and his resurrection.

And we believe that the Spirit is the Life within us.  And we believe that God breathed into Adam the breath of “Life.”  But that after Adam and Eve disobeyed, sin entered the world,  and people were subsequently born dead in trespasses and sin--without the Spirit of God within them.  We needed a redeemer.

However, read the Book of Acts and pay attention to the subject of the Spirit.  Let me know if you have an epiphany.  I know believers have the Spirit.  That’s all I need to know, but I’m curious about the book of Acts and the written record of what happened to the new believers back then.  Curiosity is like the itch.

I did it!!!! I submitted a book for review.  And it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  I have no secretarial skills, Nada, zilch, none...and as I have said before, I hold the title for the world’s greatest procrastinator.  I lost 10 pounds of anxiety in the process...however...the next time I do this, send something to a publisher, I will already have typed up all the stuff they want...so it will be easier.   

With procrastinators, there is always a feeling of anxiety because you know you are failing, and you know that whatever it is that you are putting off, you have to do it.  You can’t escape.  You are just delaying the necessary.  Why?  I don’t know. 

The solution is to do what you have to do.  Now!  Since I know I will put something off that I don’t want to do, I have a list in my head for the mornings that I follow religiously.  I have a rule in my head that if I don’t do the first things on my list, I can’t have my morning cup of Darjeeling tea.  And I am a psychotic rule follower!  That’s why I say I would have made an excellent Pharisee. 

One of those things I have to do is microwave a sweet potato.  It is one of the only things left that Squig can eat that he likes.  He has almost quit eating canned or dry dog food at all.  He has almost quit eating period.  He sleeps all of the time, but doesn’t seem to be in pain.  He no longer gets me up in the morning.  Bless him.  He doesn’t feel good and so on my mental morning list, I fix a sweet potato before I drink tea.  But every now and then, he brings me a toy and asks me to throw it, which I do.  But only occasionally does he have the strength to go get it.  So I go get it and throw it again.  He wants to play, and having me play seems to make him happy even through he can’t participate.  I love this sweet creature. 

I have got to got to get my act together.  My system  and the order of what I do in the morning isn’t working.  Too many of you are having to remind me to post---which I  been doing over 2500 times.  I’m trying (!) to do better.  But....

Have you ever been consumed by something you are trying to get done?  That’s where I am.  I had to write a resume...which I had never done before...the college  hired me to teach math for 20 years without one--I guess because they knew me and what I could do.  Who knows.  But this publishing company wanted one--and so I did it last week.  It took a week because  I had never reviewed myself, what I do, what I have done, who I am, or what my talents are.  I guess I just floated through life?  I found it very difficult.

And then, they wanted referrals from people in the business.  I don’t know anyone in the business of writing novels.  And they want email addresses...which I’m not going to give them!  I would lose all my friends if I did that.  Anyway, I spent a lot of time staring at my computer screen, frustrated.  It was much, much, much harder than writing the books.

I would have given up, but this publishing company is interested, and the story of my brother’s life underground in China setting up medical clinics for the Communists so he could use them to establish underground churches is too important a story to give up on.  He should have been dead a dozen times at least.  The publisher wants one chapter to read.  I chose the one where he got into a war zone, set up a tent to treat people, and the commander of an army brought his dying father to be treated, implying that Bill had to cure him or he would kill Bill.  That story was a tie with the chapter where the war in Viet Nam was raging, he was in a medical tent when a bomb hit, and he had to wade out through swamp and spent the evening picking leaches off of his legs. Or....or....or...it goes on and on.  I’m trying to get it out there.

It is 8 PM in the evening, and Rebecca Perkins texted, “You didn’t blog today.” Ahhh....my friends.  You keep me balanced.

I spent the entire day trying to write a proposal for this book about my brother.  Then realized it was supposed to start with a thesis statement.  I condensed two pages down to two sentences.  It is the hardest writing I have ever done.  

I spent hours and hours doing it.  I live for adjectives, and I had to eliminate all of them.  And of course, getting up every fifteen minutes to eat something bad for me. 

By this time every night, my neighbor across the street has called to tell me to turn my porch lights on.  All of you, my friends, take care of me.  Oh my!! How God has blessed me.  It’s becoming obvious that I can’t make it without all of you.  Kathy Davidson called this morning.  Becky Bacon did as well.  And Jeanette, Jamie and Carol picked me up and took me to lunch.  It is called assisted living in your own home!

I sincerely thank all of you who stay with my blog as I get erratic in my schedule.  Today I got up really early, took Squig to the groomer, left him there and drove to Luther.  I needed help writing a “cover-letter” a publisher wanted.  Pat is my go-to gal for computer stuff.  And since she works in the library, I can sit there and work on writing and when I get stuck, I can ask questions. (Thank Carnegie for our National Library system.)

And then, on the way home, I got a dash board light about my tires, and any time that happens I go into apoplexy.  I don’t do dash lights.  And I just got new tires anyway.

I was so bumfuzzled that I forgot to go out and get the newspaper, do my crossword and cryptogram.  It is now four in the afternoon, and I just brought the paper in.

And then, AT&T, my least favorite company in the world, has raised my “bundle” that is supposed to save me money by $45.  Why?  They don’t seem to know.  And nobody I get speaks English--I take that back.  They read it, they just don’t understand the questions I ask.  I think I’m being forced to have 5G. ??? 

And Becky Bacon just called to ask why I hadn’t blogged...and her eyes are doing remarkably well.  Which means she won’t be coming to see her Okla. City doctor.  I told her she needed to get a new disease so she will have to come stay with me!!  (I may have to drive to Pryor. I miss my Pryor friends.)  Tomorrow, I will go get the paper first thing and then blog.  I promise.  Unless I forget again.  The cure for forgetfulness is to quit having birthdays which is too drastic a solution.

Every morning, Pat wakes me up at 7:30.  This morn, I rolled back over and went back to sleep.  Which means that I am late on everything today.

Yesterday, I was telling you that I am teaching from Paul’s letters to Timothy and how different the tone is from his other letters.  He describes how the world will become more and more rebellious and godless and for him not to be discouraged.  

It sounds like he is describing today.  He tells Timothy to remember what he has learned from Scripture, and remember who taught him what he knows--his mother and his grandmother.

I find it strange how many Christians go to church, participate in group gatherings, listen to people speak on TV, but never read the Bible for themselves.  I’ve been teaching classes since I was seventeen, and to be honest, I haven’t found very many people who read the Bible. 

They come.  They listen.  But they don’t read it themselves.  And I know that if you don’t set a regular time and place to read...you won’t get it done.

But the strange part for me is that they don’t want to read the Bible.  That’s the part I don’t understand.  The book that is the basis for belief in life eternal should spark some sort of curiosity in a person I would think.  

People say it is hard to read--that they don’t understand what they are reading.  All I can say is “Get another translation!”  It’s the communication from God.  Surely we should want to know what He has to say.  Every time I read, I learn something new.  Like yesterday when I found out that Peter endorsed Paul’s letters as “gospel.”  Although I love to read what the super-educated Paul writes, you have to love Peter as a person.  He was so very human...like us.

I have just finished teaching the book of Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians...books that Paul wrote to different groups.   One was to Gentiles, another to Jewish Christians...very different messages based on their knowledge of the Old Testament.   And the way Paul expresses truth is very different.

The Gentiles knew nothing, and needed to know who God was, what he had promised, and how Jesus fulfilled prophecy.  The Jewish Christians were transitioning from one religion with certain expectations, to another based on freedoms they had not known would happen.  They were having trouble letting go of their rituals

This morning, I began a different letter.  The second letter to Timothy--who Paul identified as being like a son to him.  It is written in an entirely different voice than his letters to Gentiles and Jewish Christians.

I love to read Paul.  He was educated by the top teacher in the Jewish religion, but  after he met Christ, he became an entirely new creature.  Instead of murdering Christians, locking them up, and tracking them down...he made a 180 degree turn from elitism to an humble servant of Jesus.  

Every now and then, I learn something new as I study.  I knew that writers spoke of Scripture as being old testament.  Except for one letter from Peter--who gave Paul honor by telling people to read the teachings of Paul.  (Remember that Paul chewed Peter out at a dinner they were out...so Peter’s praise is important--he could have been resentful.)  But in 2 Peter 3:15 Peter recognizes the importance of what Paul wrote as being something we should read...as truth--the only place in the New Testament where written words are equated along with Scripture of the Old. 

I guess it is obvious by now that I am not blogging every day.  I’m trying to get back in the groove...but the queries to the publishers and answering their replies has got me down.

I do not like the process of doing it.  Paper work.  (Now that would be email stuff.)  I never could have been a secretary who dealt with details and order.  I’ve told you before that I hold the world record  in procrastination. 

And I write notes on the back of anything that is paper, envelops, bills, Anderson Window ads.  Whatever...and can’t find what I wrote.

I have a goal of one query a day to a publisher.  And if they require an agent, I mark them off.  It means their company is too large to deal with me.  I need a small company who will get something printed.  

Money-making does not attract me any more.  I have enough--which means that I can cover my bills and go out to eat a couple of times a week.  The thing I want is for the story of my brother Bill to be heard.  The story of Ken to be heard.  Some lives should be remembered for what they did.

I’m trying.  It isn’t working very well.  I don’t have a lot to work with when it comes to working with me.  I’m the problem.

I successfully attached a document I had written with a “Paper clip” to an email I sent to a publisher.  I feel like a grown up!!!

 Just about the time I learn how to do things on my phone or my Mac, it becomes obsolete and I have to start over.  This generation throws things away without a care in the world.  I go into remission when I even think about throwing something away.

This generation also learns to do the new thing immediately.  I don’t.  I have to do it the wrong way at least a dozen times before I remember that isn’t how it is done. That’s the reason I haven’t let Craig talk me into buying a new car.  I don’t want to learn where any new switches, buttons or toggles are. I like the ones I’ve got. 

I learned to parallel park at 16 and can do it perfectly.  And I haven’t hit the curb yet.  Or anything else--if you don’t count the plastic garbage can sitting next to my driveway.

I also don’t get the obsession with “The latest thing” or “New” or “Different.”   I’m perfectly happy with what I’ve got.  I’ll get something else when my old “thing” breaks.  

I am at war with AT&T over 5G right now.  Every time they find a new widget, I get it whether I want it or not.  And of course, I get (Have) to pay for it whether I want it or not.  I have fewer and fewer choices anymore.  

I am tired of springing forward and falling back.  I just want someone to decide what time it is and leave it alone.  It helps some people I am sure, but for most of us it just drives us crazy.

I like knowing when the sun comes up it is a certain time.  I like knowing when the sun goes down that bedtime is a certain amount of time away.  I like the changing hours of darkness and light as the days grow longer and the days grow shorter.

It reminds me that the world is rotating on its axis and God knows what he is doing to keep spring and winter within their bounds in Oklahoma.

You may like it, but....I don’t particularly care which way they set it, I would just like to have it one way or the other and leave it alone.

That said, It is growing dark right now. By 7:30 it will be totally dark.  When they change it to “fall back” it is going to be 6:30 instead when it is dark.  That’s awfully early for the sun to go down.

Thing is, I didn’t even get to vote on it.  Someone, somewhere, made the decision for somebody that wanted daylight “savings” time.  I haven’t saved any time.  I don’t know about you.  Maybe those people who need more sunlight in the morning, and the other group who need more sunlight at evening time could get together and come up with something that would be acceptable to both sides.  I’m not holding my breath.

It is time to start diddling with another book that I have finished, editing, revising and finishing it.  About Ken.  One chapter is about his invitation to join the Blue Angels.  They had shut down during the Korean War, were reactivating, and gave one slot to a Marine traditionally.

Ken said no, he wanted to do something useful for the Corps--those of you who knew him would understand. (He thought the Blues were a traveling show living out of a suitcase--and he had already done all of the precision flying he wanted to do as well as fighting in Korea for a year.)  So he said no, and suggested his best friend Pete for the job.  Zeke was leading the group at the time...so he called Pete and asked if he wanted to join them as they reactivated the Blues.

Pete had been assigned a job in DC.  Hated it.  Dress uniform every day and very little flying.  He took the job.  Solo for the Blues.  And rolled an F-9 into a dune at Corpus Christi while they were practicing.  If I hadn’t started writing the book, there would have been no record that he ever flew with the Blues.  I got my son Scott on it.  He knew who to call to get the history of Pete and a record of his role with the Blues into the records. So when you Google Pete...and the Blues, he will be remembered.

  

I did it!  I figured out how to submit a book to a publisher and got it done.  Now, they have to say “No.”  Or, by some miracle, say “Yes.”  That is where all of you come in.  I need some prayer.

It is the story of my brother’s life in China.  Eight people have read it, pushed me to do something with it, helped me edit, and finally, Carolyn hit me over the head with words of encouragement and wouldn’t let go of it.  I spent the last week editing (editing can go on for the rest of your life because it is never going to be perfect) and finally Carolyn forced me let go of it.  I was afraid she was going go quit on me if I didn’t do something.

It is good.  I got to the last paragraph and began to cry---I was so moved by what my brother had done with his life.  The fact that I had been able to write it in a way that did him justice was satisfying as well.

I lost a hundred pounds of emotional weight when I hit the “send” button.  My daughter Becky says her favorite word is “Done.”  I think I am going to agree.  It is done.  Hallelujah, Praise God Almighty.  Free at last.  I can’t get it back and change anything.  Without Carolyn, I would have diddled with it forever.

I have not blogged because I am trying to get a book to a different publisher.  It has consumed me.  I have read and reread and edited until I am exhausted.  Don’t give up on me.  I’ll get back to blogging soon.

Squig is doing well.  The vet is surprised.  So am I.  He has started eating again, and has quit throwing up.  Praise God.  He is my best friend right now.

Jeanette brought me sweet and sour chicken with pineapples.  It is so delicious that I have eaten it twice today.  

The book is about my brother’s life.  He should be dead a dozen times over from his exploits in China, Tibet, Mongolia, Viet Nam, Laos, Macau, and Korea.  To name a few places.   I sent it to Jack Hardy in Pryor (The Pryor Paper) and he wants me to get it out there.  All of the encouragement helps.  Carolyn is on me every day.  I wouldn’t have finished it if she hadn’t helped me.

All of us have been glued to the TV watching the storm...at least I was.  Ann’s son Will was just south of the eye near the shore.  He kept us us up to date with pictures.  I texted him this morning to see if he lost his car to water and he reported (thankfully) that all was well.

They are saying that the hurricane is going to hit S. Carolina.  I lived in Beaufort S. Carolina for three years and we endured a direct hit.  Military came to our houses and hammered plywood on our windows.  Our house was three blocks from the water.  It was scary.  I was by myself and responsible for three children.

And of course...as was usually the case in things like that...The pilots were charged with saving the planes.  They flew them inland and spent the time playing Acey-ducy till it was all over.  Women and children were left to the base emergency crews.  First things first.

Out of five births, Ken was there for one that I know of.  I’m not sure about Jonathan.  My heart failed, I was unconscious, and don’t remember that one.  

Sometimes I look back and wonder about that very young girl (four of those births by the time I was twenty-five).  Where did her grit come from?  I had no idea what I was getting into by marrying a Marine fighter pilot.  But to tell the truth, I would do it all over again.  There was never a dull moment.

My dad wasn’t a fisherman.  I’ve never caught a fish--and wouldn’t know how to bait a hook anyway.  But we did go to the Spavinaw dam when they closed the gates and pick fish up--along with hundreds of other people.  Huge fish.

Every now and then they closed the gates on the dam--which left the river bed below (which was rocky) to dry up.  Fish by the hundreds would be caught in little pools of water.  

It was war time, and the crowds were large, waiting for opportunity to get free meat.  We picked up catfish larger than our big dog.

The shore was a mess as fish were cleaned for transport to be dried, smoked and otherwise preserved.  

If you eat catfish now, it is probably farm raised and sweet.  River bottom catfish is not sweet.  They live in mud.  But when you are hungry, you will eat river bottom fish.

Catfish have whiskers.  Long spikes of needles at their nose and mouth.  That’s where they get their name.  The longer they live, the sharper the needles.  My recommendation is to eat farm raised catfish.  

Monday came and went without me.  I had so many things to do, I forgot to blog.  I hadn’t even got Sunday’s crossword done!  Still don’t.  I’m behind on everything.  The biggest culprit was the grocery store.  Every six weeks or so, I have to go walk the aisles and see it all myself.  My friend Jeanine across the street has my credit card and takes care of the day to day stuff.  She is one of God’s angels.

The problem is when I get home from the store.  When you are putting things in your basket, it doesn’t weigh much. And I always pay someone to load it in the car at the store.   But....OHHH....when you get  home, you have to get it all in the house.  Unsack, and put it all away.  That is really really hard for me anymore.  I was totally pooped.  I’m going to have to change my ways, plan ahead and have someone on this end to help me unload.  Rethinking what you do is how to grow old gracefully.

Of course there is another solution...don’t grow old.  But I’m not gonna’ go that route.  I’m going to adjust.  I’m just doing it little at a time.  It’s amazing how few thing really have to be done!!.  Dusting...out the window.  Mopping, wet a rag and do it with your foot.  I could write a book on “What really doesn’t need to be done.”  One thing I’ve changed...I don’t run to any store until I have to have three or four things I need at numerous places.  Fewer trips.  And...drive through is my new awesome.  Walgreens does my shopping for me through the window, then comes to the car and loads it.  The pandemic woke stores up to the needs of older consumers.  Yoo-hoo! 

It turned cold overnight!!  I broke out the humidifier when I realized that all of the allergies I was experiencing were due to dry air.  I can’t remember when it rained last.

Hopefully my yard man will come today and trim hedges.  And take all the suckers off the oak trees.  Everything looks ragged.  I’ve given all of my tools away so that I won’t be tempted to try and do work like that.  My mind says I can, but afterwards my body explains the truth to me.

I am going to take Jeanine to lunch.  Chinese.  She spent a lot of time fighting the good fight with AT&T for me.  It’s going to save me almost $40 a month.  We both love Chinese food and she is the only one I have to do that with.  I get tired of Mexican.

My class went to Chicken Express Tuesday because I wanted chicken liver.  It was ok, but too much oil and breading for me.  I like fried onions with it and they put gravy on the plate.  No.

It is Friday.  By Friday every week, I have run out of things to write about.  I am sure you can tell!!! 

I couldn’t get my blog to load this morning.  Called Craig, he came over, tapped the icon and bam!  It loaded.  It must be me?

Ann took me to lunch.  I forgot to eat breakfast because I was upset with the computer.  Which is rather frequent, but it is always my fault.  Something simple that I’m afraid to do if fear of crashing the entire thing.

Squig is better.  Praise God.  He is eating, holding it down, and somewhat animated.  I keep throwing money at the problem and it’s working.  I have nothing else to spend it on.

We get up in the night at 1:00 and let him out, so that problem no longer exists.  He has all of this old-age-dog-stuff figured out.

Jeanine--across the street--came over and went to war with AT&T for me.  I had given up.  They finally gave her the real number of dollars that I owed instead of what was on the latest bill.  It went up $49.00 in one month.  The bill was wrong.  But finding someone who speaks English is the hard part.  She is so good to help me when I reach the end of my patience.  It took hours over three days.

God plunked me on this street because he knew I would need Jeanine.  She checks on me every day and calls at night to remind me to turn on my porch lights. Thank God for such a good friend. 

Getting a book published is the most frustrating thing I have done in years.  I have a beautiful handout (on expensive paper in color) that the publisher sent me to give to people--describing the book.  Saying my book would be in bookstores on November 7, 2021.  Never happened.

I have heard every excuse in this world for the delays. The printer went bankrupt.  The supplier couldn’t get paper.  Printing companies are dragging their feet on hard back books verses paperback....etc., etc., etc.

Everyone who has read the edited copy says: publish on Amazon.  But the difference in self-publishing and getting a licensed publisher is huge.  At the top is advertising.  A publisher gets the news out in state and local newspapers.  They distribute to libraries.  They set up book-signing dates in every book store in your state, and my publisher has even got dates in military base PXs.  But....you are at their mercy.  Once you sign a contract, they are in control.

I put a number of stipulations in the contract concerning changing dialog in film rights, etc. but what I should have done was put a due-date in it.  That way, if not published within a certain time-line, the contract would be voided.  Live and learn.  The pandemic almost put bookstores out of business and numerous publishers went out of business--so most of the delays were legitimate, however, my frustration level is huge. 

What I have observed, is that people talk about one of three things. 

1.  They talk about things.  Their car, shoes, jewelry, vacation accommodations, boats, sports, etc.

2.  They talk about people.  “...did you hear about what Joe did!” or “I really don’t like Suzie.  She thinks she is better than everyone else.”  Seldom saying anything nice.

3.  Or...they talk about ideas.  And there are two categories in this group.  The first group orates.  They get on a box and talk “at” you.  Do not interrupt.  This group can’t share their thoughts without falling into the second group that criticizes people who think otherwise than they do.  They have never learned to discuss.  They have chosen one side of an idea and go to war.  Dividing people.  Slashing and burning.

The other side of this group actually wants to learn something.  They may say something like, “What do you think about....” and listen to you.  They may ask how you arrived at your idea.  They are actually interested in what you have to say.  I had the privilege of growing up in a family like this. Every Sunday at the dinner table, aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends discussed ideas.  We were taught not to argue, just share.  We had to know why we thought why we did--who, or what, influenced us. I am having a hard time finding those people any more.

 As the world has watched the memorials for Queen Elizabeth, I am sure you have been struck as I have been at the millions that waited hours, even days by the side of the road--quietly, just waiting for the procession with her body to pass by.  Total respect for her was evident in a way we will never see again for a world leader.

Can you imagine that type of outpouring for anyone else of our world leaders?  We Americans can’t stand still for five minutes for hardly anything.  I thought of Putin and am sure he is jealous--he wants to restore himself as Czar of Russia.  But has no respect in the world.  He is a tyrant.

I remember her coronation.  I remember her taking the reins and trying to rebuild England after WWII.  Churchill, Stalin, Truman, FDR, all of it.  I remember.

It is sad to lose a person that the entire world respects.  But to get the respect of the world, you have to be respectful yourself.  She was.  For me, this is the end of an era that I lived through.  None of them are left now.  Those of us who lived through WWII have a different perspective on world events.  And the loss of great individuals that changed the way the world works together when tyrants try to take control.

My yard man (who put in my raised garden) broke his leg (knee) a year ago and has been down and out.   He came today and spread mulch in the front flower bed where I had been fighting weeds.  He’s going to come back next week and trim the hedges and the suckers on the oak trees out front.  Thank God he is able to work.  For me, and for himself.

The spider lilies are gone.  They have a week of glory every September, and then they are done.  But what a week it is.

I’ve had to give up garage sales for the most part.  I ride with Ann to keep her company, and sit in the car and do the crossword.  We went to I-hop this morning and the poor manager-waitress was trying to hold the place down by herself.  Nobody had showed up for work.  One of the customers had been a waitress in younger years and hopped up and started helping.  So did Ann and I.  Some of the workers started dribbling in, but for awhile, I was doubtful they had enough people to get our breakfast to us.

I guess that’s’ the way it is all over.  By the time you pay for childcare, and gasoline, you don't make enough to make a trip to work worthwhile.  People have been complaining about raising the minimum wage for years.  I think it has been done--not by the government, but by companies.  You can’t make a product without workers.  And of course, when you pay people a decent wage, prices go up.  

Nobody wants to be excluded.  The Gentiles felt like they were “Less than” --and the Jews agreed with them.  Jews wanted nothing to do with the Gentiles.  They were “unclean” under Jewish law.

Now, as some of the Gentiles and Jews came to believe in Christ and his resurrection, they were part of a new religion: Christianity.  Members of the same groups that met in homes.  Seated side by side. 

For the Jews, it would be like one of us who live on main street America opening our doors to people we don’t know and don’t understand and don’t particularly care to know.  There was a “catch up” going on among the Jews--and a tendency to continue to exclude Gentiles.  Groups formed among Christian Jews and other groups formed among Christian Gentiles.

Denominations form along lines of devision.  James was writing to dispersed Jews trying to assure them that their religion of “good works,” that is--Judaism, wasn’t going to be completely trashed.  That good works would now be the result of faith in Jesus.  His message was that instead of doing good works to be saved, that your salvation would produce good works.  That Jesus--not religion or churches--was the only way to God.    He was, and is, the way to God. He was the new High Priest.  Then the book of Hebrews went  to explain that faith and faith alone--not the Jewish religion was what had saved Abraham, Moses, David, Isaac, Jacob...   

I’m teaching the book of James (Jesus’ brother) this quarter.  Which is a cold shift from teaching Paul’s writing.  Paul left Judaism behind him when he found Christ and called himself the apostle to the Gentiles.  No more rules of the Jewish laws.  Now everyone was included. He taught faith centered salvation and dropped ritualism.

Jews had spent their entire life as God’s special people and now, they were being asked to include everyone.  They wouldn’t be special anymore and it was hard to take.  James (the apostle) was head of the church in Jerusalem and was having a really hard time letting go of rules concerning food, holy days, rituals etc. Many of the Jewish converts except Paul were struggling with it.

So it is understandable that when James wrote his letter to disbursed Christians Jews (who were being hunted down and murdered by the Jewish priesthood) James wanted to stress that; yes, faith was what saved you, but faith would always produce works.  He approached converts with a more rigid way of living than Paul did.  The outcome was the same, they were saved by faith.  But Paul was much kinder to the Gentiles who hadn’t been raised with Jewish legalism.  

We say the Bible is inspired by God, but we need to remember that it was written by very different personalities.  Real people.

 

The yews (evergreen shrubs) all over town are dying.  Huge bushes, six feet high, sometimes ten feet across.  I planted one in the spring...it is almost all burnt up.  There are spots of green, so I haven’t given up on it.  It wasn’t lack of water, it must have been the heat.  The only thing at this point that can save it is prayer.

The man who mulches my flower beds every fall broke his leg.  Finding someone to drag the bags of mulch in my shed around to the front beds is almost impossible.  I gave my wheelbarrow to Craig, or I would do it myself.  I think I could cut the bags open and spread the mulch....maybe.  But I would pay for it.  Probably couldn’t stand up after I did it!

It is cooler here, thank God.  I sat out on my back porch last evening and watched the clouds waft overhead.  It is the most peaceful place in the evenings.  I just don’t know why God made mosquitoes.  They serve no useful purpose but to irritate me.  I have no standing water anywhere for them to breed, so my neighbors must have some.

Winter is coming.  I wonder if it will be as extreme as the summer has been.  Our weather is definitely been altered.  California is burning, states are under water, crops are failing.  God is going to have to intervene because people on earth don’t seem to be able to control their behavior.  He may just let us reap the results of how we have abused his earth??? 

It is 8:15 AM and Squig is still asleep under the covers.  We had had a horrible weekend.  He was up both Friday and Saturday nights over over again all night long.  He couldn’t keep anything down. Six different times on Saturday night he went outside and threw up.  Nausea is the worst.

I went to church Sunday morning expecting to find him ready to leave me for heaven before I got back, but he threw up one more time and has been fine since.  Tired, weary and sleeping.  I was afraid this morning would be the day we went to see the Vet for the last time.  But he only got up once last night.  Thank God...I didn’t sleep those two nights much either.

Our last dog, Beau, gave me notice when he was ready to go.  He had epilepsy, and when medication wouldn't help any more, and his seizures were constant, it was time.  He went peaceful while I was rubbing his back--at the vet.  It was a relief.  Watching a dog suffer when you can’t help it is agony.  You don’t know what to do.  Over and over you ask, “Is it now...or should I wait?”  It would be easier if dogs could talk!

But last night, Squig only got up once.  Such a relief.  I was able to sleep.  He was able to sleep.  I’ll take him back in to the vet this week to weigh him.  He’s already gone down from 12.4 to 10.2 which is a huge amount for such a small dog.  We are spending these last few days--weeks?--doing whatever he wants to do.  Rubbing his belly or scratching his back seems to be his first choices.

I watched every moment of the service this morning for Queen Elizabeth at St. Pauls Cathedral.  The Church of England once again assured us that a dignified quiet worship of a holy God can still occur.  Everyone quietly listened, waited, reflected, and  spent an hour of quiet and somber recognition of things that are holy, unchanging, and eternal.  

We Americans can no longer wait.  We need immediacy.  Now.  Do something.  Don’t waste time doing nothing but sitting in a pew to meditate.

Hymns...traditional...gave a sense of peace and comfort.  In most of our churches today, we have a new ditty every week or two.  Those of us who gain comfort in the words of the ancient hymns...words that ring true through the ages...are disturbed by the yah, yah, yah of the repetitive current songs that are sung, forgotten in a few weeks and replaced by the latest hit.

I couldn’t do it every Sunday, but I would like a worship service from time to time that includes reflection and silence.  There is a place in our churches for continuity and ritual.  Sometimes it brings peace in a clanging world.  And we desperately need peace in our lives.

I never understood why people let their property run down and drop through the cracks.  As I have grown older, I understand.  Something needs to be fixed...constantly.  Something needs to be attended to. 

And finding someone to do what needs to be done is difficult.  My friend Carolyn finally gave up and decided she couldn’t pull the weeds in her flower beds any more and found someone to do it.  At a hefty price.  But when they left, she pulled a number of sack fulls of weeds they missed. 

They came back after she complained, and still did a poor job.  That’s the frustration of hiring people.  I have a lawn service that has been raising crab grass in my back yard.  I call and tell them about it, they look at it, spread something on it and the crab grass grows greener.  I called another service, but who knows if they will do better.  I just want the crab grass gone.

My front yard is fescue and it’s so hot that everything there is brown.  I think the thing to do is just let it all go---as I said, I understand now why things get run down.  When Ken was here he took care of all of that.  And when Carolyn’s husband Wayne was here, he did too.

The Bible says to take care of the widows.  You can’t even find anyone to pay to do it.   Thank God I have Tony.  Even if it’s just a light bulb, he comes.  And Carolyn has Nathan.  But what about all of the other older people.  Who do they call.  Who can they call.  It’s really hard to find handymen to fix things.  They aren’t raised to do it anymore. 

Every night when I go to bed I think of dozens of things to write about.  I just can’t remember what they are the next morning.  I should write them down, but I would lose the list.

I’ve been editing a book I am writing, so I called Joe Mike--Becky Bacon’s husband--to ask the difference between an F-40 and and F-9 and the two of them were in New Orleans eating oysters and shrimp.  They were taking a little vacation from hot Oklahoma.

I am jealous.  Living in Pensacola for a year, and eating fresh seafood, ruined me for imported seafood here.  I ordered tilapia last Sunday when I was out with the girls in my class and I couldn’t eat it.  Something about freezing and thawing leaves it “fishy.”  I usually like it.

The only kind of seafood that I haven’t been able to acquire a taste for is salmon.  Everyone likes it except me.  Naturally my favorites are halibut and lobster.  Expensive stuff.  But oysters, crab, calamari, etc.  I do love.  Oklahoma is not a good place to find seafood.  Crawdads are okay but too hard to peel. 

I think you can tell that today....I’ve run out of anything interesting to say.

I’ll try again tomorrow.  

I buy 12 packs of Dr. Pepper in cans, and keep them really cold for the guys who mow and weed the lawn.  But the last time I went to the store there was so much to bring in that I left them in the car--a week ago.  I bet it was 115 in the car when I went to get them.

As I tore the container open and took the first can out, I dropped it on the tile floor in my kitchen--and it exploded.  A tiny hole acted like a water hose with a finger pressed on it and spewed Dr. Pepper all over the cabinets, along with everything on them, and ran down all over the floor. I started to pick the can up and remembered....

I had a similar incident when Becky was almost a year old.  We were in California staying with Ken’s folks--Ken was overseas in the Orient somewhere for 13 months (a regular event in the life of a Marine).  She found a glass pack of Coca-cola, shook one of them up and when it fell on the concrete floor it exploded, driving a huge piece of glass into her arm.  I pulled it out, blood everywhere, spurting like the Dr. Pepper can did.

I knew to put pressure on it, but even that couldn’t contain it.  We raced to the hospital, but they refused to see us.  I didn’t realize I had military insurance because I had never had to use it.  There was another hospital close or she would have bled to death.  How much blood does a one year old have?  How could they have refused to help?

So I am standing in my kitchen wondering--how in the world would I have gotten myself to the hospital if I had a piece of that Dr. Pepper can in my arm.   Thank God I didn’t.  All I had was Dr. Pepper sprayed over my entire kitchen. What a mess.  I’ve been cleaning it up ever since and keep finding sticky places.  I’ll never find all of it.  But, I could have ended up bleeding.