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 I have been color coding my New Testament.  Using a Bible that I picked up at a garage sale.  It is very light weight because it doesn’t have any fol-de-rol stuff in the back, and the pages are onion skin.  Thin but really tough.  I have become addicted to onion skin paper.

There is some woman’s name printed on the cover.  She is long gone to glory, but  I am enjoying her Bible. 

Faith is purple.  Kingdom is yellow.  Holy Spirit is turquoise.  Priest and High Priest are orange. Angel is a pink halo circle.  Green is something you have memorized.

It has made opening the Bible an adventure.  Jeanette has kept me going.  She is doing it with me.  It has been interesting to note how much we over look when we read.  Now those topics jump off the page.

We started this in the book of Hebrews--where there were four topical themes.  Now I won’t ever forget that.  And in John’s books and letters, the word “write” is the main theme.  He wanted everyone to know he was writing everything down because the Christians were dying, being killed and leaving the area.  John was wanting to be sure everyone knew about Jesus after John was gone.  He left a record.  “This is the record, that God has given us eternal life and this life is in his Son...”

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Squig is better.  He’s not going back to the dog he once was, but he is doing okay.

I went to the nursery this morning and bought a yew.  Now, I have to get it planted.  That will take me the rest of the day and I probably will have to call some one to come help me before it is over.

The price of plants has doubled.  For that matter, the price of everything has doubled.  

If you are thinking about getting a high milage car because gas costs so much.  Economically, that’s not really a good idea unless you drive hundreds of miles a month.  If you double your miles per gallon, and are like most of us over sixty years old, you don’t drive enough miles in a month to make it worth a car payment.

That is a math “word problem” which is like the ones I assigned to the engineering students when I was teaching at NEO.  They were always shocked at the outcome when they put pen and ink to it.  The cheapest car you can drive is usually the one you already own.  I also gave them the problem of living on what an entry level engineer would make.  Before they did the math they were going to buy a Jag.  After they did the math, they were going to live at home with mom and dad for a few years.  I told them they had to include health insurance, car payment and insurance, rent, utilities etc., etc....One fellow said he was going to buy the sports car and sleep in it so he wouldn’t have to pay rent.  Reality is usually a math problem.

I just finished reading Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians.  Very short letters to groups of people who needed to be scolded for the things they were doing wrong, and encouragement to those who were on the right track.  Paul never held back.  He got to the point.

He knew some of the people, some he didn’t.  He was sitting in a hole in the ground--a jail cell--writing letters to help people.  If he hadn’t been in jail, I doubt we would have these wonderful letters.  

I got to go down into the cell in Rome where Paul was held.  It was a hole in the rock.  Carved out to hold water.  A cistern.  Curved walls--actually like the inside of a balloon.  It was cold, damp, no sunlight...and there, with a pen, letter by letter, he wrote--probably by the light of a candle.

There was a hole at the top of the cistern where you got inside by going down a ladder--which would then be retracted so the prisoner couldn’t get out.  Paul doesn’t have much to say about his misery.  Just told people to hold on, stay the course.  Look for the return of Jesus.  Share the gospel.

They finally killed him.  But the things he wrote live on.  He met Jesus on the road to Damascus.  Ananias was afraid of Paul but God told Ananias,  “He is a chosen vessel unto me...”  Paul’s educational background was phenomenal, all he needed was for God to open his eyes to the fact that Jesus was the Messiah.   

I now understand the phrase, “The sands of time.”  My days--with Squig being sick--have sifted through my fingers like sand.  I don’t know where the last three weeks went!

I just finished reviewing the upcoming lessons for June-August.  They are over 1 Kings and 2 Kings, and I have made an executive decision...I’m doing something else.  This class is not into history, they are into application.  I think I will challenge them to read those two books, but we are going to do something else on Sundays.  Probably one of Paul’s letters.

One of the ladies commented, “It’s interesting, but those men have been dead for over three thousand years and didn’t know Jesus.  They had one war after another and never learned from their mistakes.”

Sounds like today.  Anyway, I’m tired of war.  I was born in 1938, the year WW2 started and wars and rumors of wars have gone on from there.

I am tired of this world and its stupidity.  God spells out how we should live, but people don’t want anyone telling them what to do.  Someday they will face a righteous God and explain how that worked for them.  It won’t be pretty.  And all we can do is continue to warn them that God is a righteous God, a loving God...but also, he is not going to change his mind about right and wrong.  He set the standard.  He gave his son to die.  You can’t do any more than that.  I doubt that anyone standing before God’s throne is going to be able to talk their way out of judgement.

 Today, Squig and I made a compromise.  He understands the problem I have with getting gooey canned dog food on my fingers and hands.  So....I cooked chicken breasts, ground them up and sprinkled chicken on his dry dog food.  Ta-da...He ate it.  Out of his bowl!!!  First time in two weeks.

He wet the bed night before last.  He had never done that before.  I didn’t have time to deal with it because I had to go to the beauty shop and get a permanent.  While I was gone, the ladies came to clean the house, stripped the bed and left it to dry out.  Luckily when I bought the new mattress two years ago, I got the top of the line waterproof pad--so the mattress didn’t get wet.

By the time I got home, they had washed and dried the pad and had the sheets in the washer.  I was so thankful for that!  I figured I would have to deal with all of it when I got home.

My sweet grandson David came over with baby “Ken Jack” in his arms and I held the baby while David put the pad and sheets back on the bed.  I can’t do that anymore.  Not enough strength to pull the corners of the sheet under the mattress. 

Ken Jack giggled and laughed at me the entire time.  There is nothing like a baby on your knee to brighten your day.  He is cutting his first tooth and loved biting on my knuckle.    

 

Friday, I went back to the vet.  None of the four vets I had seen in the last two weeks had been able to tell me exactly what was wrong with Squig.  The fifth vet did the trick.  She treated the dog’s mama.  I was a wreck.  I didn’t know what to do and had four different sets of instructions.  She took the time to review every test result and explain what was going on.

I am still spending most of the day holding Squig. But he is better.  When someone rang the doorbell yesterday, he lifted his head and barked--doing his job.  He didn’t get up, but he let them know that “The Dog” was on duty. 

I finally got him to eat something by feeding it to him by hand.  I have a hand fetish.  I can’t stand for my fingers to be dirty.  I wash my fingers a zillion times a day.  But there I was.  Sitting on the floor feeding him by hand.  Messy, gooey, canned stuff. (Daughter Becky told me to try feeding him by hand.) I guess he thought it was a treat if I gave it to him that way.  

We’ll keep doing this.  I’ll suck it up, get my hands dirty, and feed him by hand from now on if that’s what it takes.  He actually ate something out of his bowl yesterday; not much, but that’s a start.  I’m just thankful he didn’t check out on me.  I didn’t think he was going to make it last week.  Now, I am very hopeful.

Squig is holding his own.  But it is downhill.  He quit throwing up and is eating again.  Most of the day he just lies in my arms exhausted.  That is my job right now.  To hold him and give him comfort.  He hasn’t given up yet.  So I won’t either.  He’s put four ounces back on.

The refrigerator is completely clean.  I threw out over fifty of those catsup packets.  Why did I keep them?  Who knows.  It seemed wasteful to throw them out.  I threw out things that should have been long gone--long gone ago.  It feels good.  I don’t use catsup very often anyway! 

Next is my closet.  If I don’t wear it, why do I keep it?  I have no idea.  Surely someone needs this stuff.  I took a few purses over to Ann’s garage sale last Saturday.  I just need to get things into bags to go to Goodwill.  I don’t know what has come over me, but I am tired of keeping stuff I don’t need.  Recognizing I don’t need something is an interesting thing.   My Mom thought you kept things because you might need them someday.

One thing I never did was put things in the attic.  I did figure out that if it went into an attic, I didn’t need it.  Moving 26 times helped.  You have to go through things and make a decision if it is worth bothering with.  Most of the time, there is someone who needs something more than you do.  God gave it to you.  You give it to someone else.  That’s how it works.

They hooked him up to fluids and kept him at the vet all day.  He had gone from 12 pounds to 10.  He lay in my arms limp, and he never moved when I gave him to the vet.  He had nothing left to give.

But after a day of fluids, he was a little better.  The vet said she was hopeful.  He hasn’t thrown up.  She put him on a different food.  And she will call on Wednesday to see how things are going.

Good grief!!  I can’t believe how this dog has changed my life. 

The doctor gave me shots in my hips and I can walk again.  Miracle!  I was so excited, that I cleaned part of the refrigerator.  Which I hadn’t done in four years.  I had swiped at it from time to time,  but never really done a good job.   The refrigerator door opens against a wall and you can’t get the drawers to slide out.  So you can’t get under and behind them.  

Today, I am going to do the rest of it.  Take out the shelves, tip and turn the drawers sideways if I can--and go for it.   The only other way is to pull the fridge out from the wall--which I can’t do.  I can’t tell you how much it means to be able to function again.  I won’t let the hip thing get away from me again.  I just couldn’t tell one pain--bursitis--from the other in my back.  Ken always said, “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”  Marines are tough.  I say, “Pain is debilitating.”  It can sometimes shut you down. 

Back to the vet this morning.  Squig has been up during the night for the last three nights.  It is kinda like the second coming of Christ, I know he is coming some day, just don’t know exactly when.  Squig is 14+ years which is 98+ in people years.  I know what’s coming.  He isn’t in pain, he’s just tired.  He’s almost done I am afraid.  What will I do without him?  I’ve never loved an animal before.  It is painfully poignant. 

We’ve got a little more time.  He just doesn’t seem to want anything I offer him to eat.  Brown rice, lo-fat cottage cheese;  He eats a bite of white chicken every now and then.  There will be animals in heaven.  Jesus is coming on a white horse.  Squig can eat anything he wants in heaven.

The road will be lined with fruit trees and we will all eat them in season.  And then, there is the tree of life.

Death is what we all want to escape.  We want to live with our loved ones and the Lord forever.  And the dogs who have been our faithful companions here on earth.  They love us, too.  And ask so little of us.  All Squig wants is to sleep on my lap and have his back scratched.  (And sleep under the covers at night.)  This may go on for awhile.  Bear with me.  I won’t let him suffer.  No.

Someone (my brother) suggested (yesterday) that I gather all of the blogs I have written (2402 of them) and get them in categories of content and publish them.  It would take years just to read them all again!  And the possibility of organizing anything sends shivers up my spine.  I am not, repeat not, an organizer.  If there is anyone out there who wants to do that, go for it.

Thing is, I’m flattered that he thinks I’ve written anything that’s worth organizing.  He is the brain in the family--not me.  He is a doctor, worked with NASA, was a Navy flight surgeon, and spent 37 years in China breaking into areas where white men had never been--endangering his life. He had the personality to do it--he did underground stuff normal people would consider crazy. He finally got caught and thrown out.  

The only reason I started blogging was to clear up the facts that are written in the first chapter of Genesis and authenticating them in terms of known science.  Which I did--and wrote about.  Go back to blogs 1-50 or so, and read those.  

But writing is like quicksand for me.  Once I got started, I couldn’t stop.  There was always more to say.  That happens as you grow old.  Problem is, people don’t listen to what old people have to say.  Probably because they repeat themselves.  All of our stories have already been told (probably a dozen times) and for the most part, we aren’t making new ones.  I thank all of you for listening.  It gives me a reason to get up in the morning.

 If you remember anything that I have written, you are ahead of me.  I can’t remember.  Every time I start to blog, I ask myself, “Did I just write that last week?”   I guess the things I have in my head just rattle around and sometimes pop out.  But do I remember...no.  I forget most things like that as soon as I write it.

Sally called yesterday and said, “Where did all of this stuff come from?  Stuff that you wrote about--from the first chapter in Genesis?  How did you come up with these ideas and put all of this together?”

I have no idea.  I guess when we get curious about something, we find things we never saw before.  Sally has been bugging me about the Genesis paper for a long time, so I finally sent it to her. PDF.  She promised to put it in one of those thin, bendable notebooks so her grandson could stick it in his back pocket and take it back to college.  But at last notice, she said she has it spread out on her kitchen table and has a dictionary beside it so she can look up Pre-Cambrian words.  Good grief.

I told her that there aren’t very many people that even would want to read it.  It has too much scientific stuff in it.  The fact that she wants to read it means she gets an Emmy.  She must be curious, too.  I don’t care who reads it.  Or reproduces it for a friend.  Whatever.  They don’t have to agree with it, or like it.  But maybe it will cause them to think.

I have a call in to the vet.  Squigg has been throwing up for two weeks off and on.  Never missing more than one day.  They have given him two different medications, changed his diet and, x-rayed, and ultra sounded him.  No clear reason.  He eats what I give him--which is according to the vet’s instructions.  Sometimes it stays down, sometimes it doesn’t.  There doesn’t seem to be a clear pattern. 

I know he is growing old--he’s never done this before. I don’t want him to suffer; he seems to feel okay otherwise--just diet.  I can’t find anything for him to eat that agrees with him.  This is a big problem with an older dog--with any dog.  They can’t talk.  It makes me sad.

My neighbor just called and said she was making beans.  I’m going to make cornbread.  Yesterday, I made tabouli--which I love.  So that is supper tonight.  On Mother’s day, Becky and Craig had T-bones; I brought some home and have been eating beef sandwiches.  Food seems to be a big problem for us old folks.  I gave Squig a tiny piece of filet.  He kept that down.  

My fellowship class ate out yesterday.  Ruben sandwiches.  That was delicious.  Yesterday I wrote about churches.  Today about food.  Feed the body; feed the soul.

Some people are fearful of an organized church, parish, whatever--because they think that particular church holds the key to their acceptance into Christ’s kingdom.  I grew up going to church 6 hours a week.  Nothing wrong with that; I learned a lot. Luckily, it was about Scripture.

But if those six hours a week had been about the church denomination itself, it would have been wasted.  The only thing that matters is that you know what the Bible says.  Not the church.  Not the preacher.  Not the priest.  Every church denomination came along after the disciples scattered.  Up to then they met in homes, small groups.  But they began to have differences of opinions about what rules they should have when all you need is Jesus.  The Bible says Jesus is the only way to reach God.  The disciples warn us about going back to the old way of temples and buildings and regulations and holds up Jesus as our savior and intercessor.  His Spirit rules in our hearts.  He alone deserves our worship and faith. 

The disciples wrote things down.  They wrote to each other. They wrote about Jesus and what he had said.  They wrote encouragement.  That’s what we have now.  We have their letters to each other and to the small groups they had met as they spread the gospel. They did not set up an organized church with rules and with headquarters.  They had the old testament, and they had their memories that they wrote down.

Be careful when someone comes along and tells you what rules you have to follow to go to heaven.  Read the Bible.  Every thing you need is there.  But find a local group that follows those teachings so that you have fellowship with those who also follow the Bible. Where you can worship.

Organized religions are in conflict with each other over details.  All of them are slightly different from each other.  They emphasize different things.  Binding you to the organization.  And of course, the Bible has much to say about this: “Do not forsake the gathering of yourselves together as the manner of some is...”  We need to gather together as Christians.  

We get  things from the organization.  Fellowship.  And information.  Group worship of our creator.  But in the information department, there is danger.  Remember Jones and the Koolade?  Sometimes your organized church denomination gives you wrong information.

That is where the Bible comes in.  We should never, never put our trust in a church, a pastor, a priest, or TV personality.  Our faith must be in the words of the ones who knew Jesus.  They wrote it down.  Their words are the ultimate truth, not an organization.  A “Church” doesn’t hold the truth.  The Bible holds the truth.  Religion just picked up on what the disciples said and added stuff.  Much stuff that isn’t even true.  Rituals.  

Paul came to Jerusalem and found that James wanted new Christians to become Jews before they would be accepted.  And finally narrowed his demands down to three or four requirements.  I wouldn’t have been accepted because I like my steak rare.  Read your Bible if you want to find truth.

Chrissy Phillips...I sent the booklet on Genesis to Scott.  You are free to get it from him.  Glad to share...I will send it to anyone who sends me an email address.  I am glad you enjoy reading what I write.  I just need a little bit of encouragement to keep it up!!!  I hope I can meet you some day. 

And thank you for your kind words on Squig’s behalf.  He is somewhat better on the meds the Vet gave him.  But he has quit eating, so I am fixing him chicken breast and rice until he settles down.

Sally Casey asked for the book I wrote on my brother.  She is so fired up about it that she is on the phone helping me look for a publisher.  She cut my brother’s hair every time he and Janet came home from China, so she knows him well.  It’s hard to get an Okie’ haircut in China.

I am going to go get some high calorie fried chicken this evening.  I don’t  seem to gain weight no matter what I eat.  Which is good.  My friends say I worry the calories off.  They say I take everyone’s problems on myself--and feel like I have to solve them.  True.  I seem to feel like I should be able to help in some way---when it is obvious to everyone else that I can’t.  I turn problems over to God and when I finish praying, I take them back.  I need to work on this.

Today is the exterminator recheck day on the bathtub bugs.  The little dandelion mites are gone, but the fruit fly kind of critters won’t completely give in.  If an exterminator can’t kill them, I don’t know what I will do.  Brand new tub.  Brand new footings.  Brand new pipes. And a tub that is seldom used.  Go figure.  The cleaning ladies scour it out every two weeks whether it has been used or not.  

The exterminator said the brick on that side of the house had broken mortar, probably from one of those four or five point earthquakes we had a couple of years ago.  So maybe they are coming in there.  That one tub is the only place they are.  Tony is coming to repoint the mortar soon.

This house is air tight.  More-so than any house I’ve ever lived in.  When the girls come to dust, there isn’t any dust on the surfaces of furniture.  Even they have said it is unusual. I redid everything when I moved in.  New tile in bathrooms, all new fixtures.  All new sinks, counters, granite countertops in kitchen, two bathrooms, utility room.  But I have critters in the bathtub.  You would think I was dirty.  I swear I am not.

This should have happened to someone who was lazy.  Or sloppy.  Or a neglectful housekeeper.  If there is something I am supposed to be learning from this, it’s lost on me.  It does reassure me, however, that the devil is the prince of this world and these critters are Satan’s spawn. 

I woke up this morning to rain.  It is pouring.  This is such a delight after a year of drought.  They have even had to evacuate a number of small cities west of here this last few months for fear they couldn’t control the fire.  It is dry, dry, dry...as evidenced by all the acres burning further west.  

It is so flat once you get west of Oklahoma City that the wind has nothing to stop it when it starts “sweeping down the plain.”  Of course, we don’t like the wind that twists.  We had a “twisty” warning night before last.  

I gathered everything up I couldn’t live without--including Squig of course--and went across the street to Jeaninne’s house.  She has a shelter.  We didn’t need it, but if I wait for the whistle to blow, I’ll get my hair wet!!  So I wait until one is actually on the ground west of us headed this way.  

It sure is different than it used to be.  My mom would head us all to the cellar the minute it looked bad.  We don’t have to worry about all that now because we have such accurate warnings ahead of time.

Squig crawled up on a pillow Jeannine gave him and went to sleep.  This is the dog that used to be terrified of rain.  Now, he just checks out and sleeps.  We watched it cross over us and then went home.  The only problem was that we got our feet soaking wet.  There was a downpour.

I am getting worse and worse about what I am supposed to be doing.  Ann called me last night and asked if I was going to post.  I forgot.  I got busy watching the weather--which looked ominous.  And editing something else I had written--and the day slipped away.

I was editing something I had written about the first book of Genesis being the story of God’s restoration of earth--after the dinosaurs were killed, after the sun was blocked by smoke from sulfur fires--when an asteroid hit the Gulf of Mexico in the Yucatan sixty-six million years ago.  Plants died from lack of sunlight and the entire food chain collapsed.  Nothing much on land survived.  The Bible says the earth was dark, void, and without form.  I guess an asteroid that was six miles wide would do that.  

I got interested in all of that and got side-tracked.  I find that getting side tracked happens to me more and more these days.  Sally had asked me to send the Genesis thing to her. She wants to give it to her grandson who is a senior in college.  I’ll give it to anyone who wants it.  Just give me an E-mail address and I will PDF it.