Two books in the Bible are entirely about women--and what happened in their lives.  Ruth, and Esther.  Some time ago, I was writing about women in the Bible.  Many women weren't named, but played an important role in history.  Someday, when I am so inspired, I'll pick that up again where I left off.

Since I mentioned that perhaps Priscilla wrote Hebrews, I'll hit some of the highlights of that book.  The first verse, "God who at different times, and in different manners, spoke unto the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by his Son..."  The verse refers to Old Testament history.

The Old Testament is separated into sections. The first five books are called the "Pentateuch."  All Jewish males had to memorize these by the time they were twelve.  You remember the story about Jesus as a young boy going to the Temple with his parents and amazing the Pharisees with his knowledge of the Bible.  Even after he was thirty years old, Jesus quoted scripture that he had learned in his early years--using scripture that all Jewish men were familiar with.  (To point out where they were guilty of breaking God's laws.)

We should all try to memorize passages in God's Word.  I use an organization called the Navigators to help me memorize, but more than that, to recall.  Scripture will pop into my head because I have memorized it under a topical heading. Topics like: peace, hope, prayer, thanksgiving, etc.)

The next twelve books are History.  Followed by five books of Poetry.  The last books are Major and Minor Prophets.  All pointing to the coming of the Messiah.  "God...spoke...to the prophets."  It is through those writings that we know about both the first appearance of the Messiah, and the second coming.  Jesus is validated by prophecy.  It is statistically impossible for Him not to have been the Messiah--due to fulfilled prophecies.  I did the math.  There have not been enough people born in history for the one in a zillion chances it wasn't Him.  He fulfilled every prophecy.  He is the Christ.

Even if you commit only one scripture to memory, the Bible says: "My Word will not return unto Me void.  It will accomplish that which I have purposed it."  I memorize when I am driving on long stretches of road.  Or stopped at a red light--which irritates me.  I don't like waiting.

The book of Hebrews is not like the other books in the New Testament. The style is very different.  Authorship has been sometimes attributed to a woman--Priscilla, Aquila's wife.  They were tent makers with Paul, who stayed with them from time to time, and were followers of his teaching.

They also took the great scholar Apollos aside (after hearing him preach) and instructed him in the Good News.  Apollo had been preaching "John's baptism."  He didn't know that Jesus was the Christ and had risen from the dead.  Priscilla was noted in the book of Acts as having invited Apollos home after hearing him preach so that she and Aquila could acquaint Apollos with the facts concerning the events that had happened in Jerusalem concerning Jesus, the Messiah.

As I reviewed Hebrews this week, I was struck that in the eleventh chapter, which is called the "faith" chapter, the writer mentioned two women of great faith.  Sarah--the mother of the Israelite nation, and Rahab--a prostitute who hid two Israeli spies, and helped them escape.  I doubt a male writer would have given Rahab a place in the faith chapter.  Because of that, and a number of other feminine expressions in the book of Hebrews, I have become enamored with the feeling that Priscilla wrote it.

No one knows who wrote it.  The names mentioned are Paul--but it sounds nothing at all like the other letters Paul wrote; Apollos--it doesn't have the type of rhetoric that he would have written;  Barnabas--perhaps.  He had a kind and forgiving spirit.   But actually, it reads like women think.

And at the end, the writer mentions that Timothy has been released from prison and is coming to see the readers.  And it says that the writer is in Italy.  The book of Acts puts Aquila and Priscilla in Rome at that time.  So:  did she write it?  Who knows.  But I like the idea presented by scholars who attribute it to her.  I like the idea that God would give us a part of His Word through the letter of a woman.  Read the  'Factual Fiction' book "A Conspiracy of Breath" by Latayne Scott.  It was really good; I just finished it.  A real life augmented story of Paul, Timothy, Aquila and Priscilla.

But then, being a woman, I might be biased since Jesus said there would be neither male nor female from His time forward.  Women think different than men do as a rule.  And they express themselves differently.  The Bible is for all of us.  So...the idea of a woman writer intrigues me.

Spent the morning digging, raking, blowing and vacuuming leaves--my neighbor vacuumed the leaves.  I watched.  Dandelions think they are going to get me down.  Nope.  They are coming out roots and all.

The asparagus I planted last year is coming up.  I can pick it next year.  This is all so exciting.  How do all you non-gardners stand not getting your hands in the dirt.

I'm headed to Lowes to get mulch and tomatoes.  The gardner is coming Monday.  I can't wait to start bossing him around.

The bachelor button seeds I won at the drawing a couple of weeks ago are getting planted.  The only thing I have left to do is pray for rain.

Please, God, let it rain.

My next door neighbor's granddaughters have adopted me as their second grandmother.  We spent the last couple of days putting a 500 hundred piece puzzle together.  I have one of those large round coffee tables that rotates on a swivel, so it made a perfect place to dump the pieces out.  Problem was, I had to sit on the floor--and although they would rotate the table for me--when I was looking for a piece--every now and then I had to get up and get something to drink.  And my getter upper doesn't work like it used to.  We probably should have used a card table.

They helped me plant azaleas last year.  Three out of four of them died.  So we are going to plant some more.  "Hope springs eternal in the human breast."  I blame the loss on the horrible lack of rain we had this year.  Our area went months without noticeable rain.

I never let dying plants stop me from trying again.

I'm really excited that it is halfway through March.  Time for me to get my work gloves on, get a shovel and do some digging.  Tomatoes and parsley and green peppers.  I bought over 25 asparagus plants to get in the ground.  It takes three years for  them to be mature enough to pick.  Optimism.  I plan on being around to pick it.  I don't eat it very often, I just give it away.

The tulip tree I planted last year is budding and getting ready to bloom.  I am really excited.  I have always wanted one, so last year I tried again, bought it and put it in the ground.  In this area, having something live is exciting.  The ground is clay and you have to augment it.

Since my birthday is in 11 days, I know the redbud trees will start to bloom soon.  They always bloom on my birthday.

Spring.  I just love it.  It is God's birthday gift to me year after year.

I drove five hours round trip yesterday today to get my hair cut.  I can't tell you how well spent that time was.  I look like me again.  I had given up on ever finding a person in Edmond who could cut it like I wanted it.  The more I explained what I wanted, the more hair they would cut off.  But when I got to my former stylist in Pryor (Barbara),  I said, "Do what you do.  You are my guru."  She did.  I'm a new woman.  Amazing how your hair can make you feel good or feel ugly.  I feel awesome.

No woman in the world wants to feel ugly.  It doesn't matter how young or how old you are, you want to feel pretty--even if you aren't.  Someone recently asked me why I use face powder. "Because my mom told me that you shouldn't leave the house with a shiny nose."  Now, if my nose shines, I feel incomplete.  It doesn't matter if it's true or not, it's true in my head.  I have to powder my nose whether it needs it or not before I leave the house.  I've internalized my mom's rule.

Same thing with lipstick.  I want the kind that looks frosted.  Frosted lips.  That makes me happy..

So I guess I have to say, "Beauty may only be skin deep, but bring it on."

Feelings are real, but they shouldn't be what controls our actions.  Doing the right thing is sometimes uncomfortable.  We feel hesitant, or feel scared, or feel unsure of ourselves.  But if we live by our feelings, we will--in the long run--get into trouble.  Feelings can't be trusted.  A person needs a guideline on which to base their actions.  And their reactions.

For instance, I am not going to lie.  That's my rule.  I may really want to be honest, because a situation is super uncomfortable.  But because I have that guideline, I don't lie.  I've learned to say things like, "That's an interesting observation." Or, "What do you think about that?"  Or, "Why do you ask?"  I have a zillion answers to questions I don't want to answer.  But if pressed, I will say something like, "I'm sorry I can't agree with you,"  Sometimes the question is so outlandish I just disagree at the git-go.

I just hope that I never do anything that a person would want to lie about.  I want what I do to be in line with God's outlines.  I have an inner desire to please Him.  It's called Love.

I am going all the way to Pryor this week sometime to get my hair cut.  I have tried five different hair dressers here and nobody can cut it right.  I hate to drive two and a half hours to get a hair cut, but I've given up on finding anyone here.  It will be fun, however, to see my Pryor friends.  And Scott and Stacy have built a new house that I've never seen.  They moved in last month.

Sunday the lesson was on sex.  Imagine trying to teach a lesson that was relevant to a group of women over sixty.  The only new information I could give them was that they were in the age group of a newly emerging statistic--of people who weren't married moving in together.  Young people move in together for sex.  Old people move in together to keep the government from taking their retirement in Social Security.  Either way, God says don't do it.  Get a license and get married.

Up until the early fifties, everyone thought that homosexuality was a choice you made.  But "Dear Abby" answered a letter she got in the mail on the subject, and declared that people couldn't help themselves--that they were born that way.  Ta-dah.  Now it became a fact.  Dear Abby said so--it must be true. Whether it is true or not.  It caught on.  Deviant behavior was no longer sin.

I used to sit in Ken's office waiting on him to go home at the end of the day.  The only reading material was a zillion books on social behavior.  (That's what he taught.  Marriage and Family, followed by Deviant Behavior.  I'm sure they have made up a new name for that course?  It wouldn't be politically correct to call homosexuality "deviant" anymore?)  Study after study recorded statistics on behavior.  None supported the "born that way--Dear Abby" theory.  All of them supported the statistics of some encounter that directed a person's sex drive which occurred at a young age.

There are three main types of behavior.  1. Reflexes you can't control such as hic-cups, knee jerk reaction, sneezing, etc.  2. Controlled behavior.  Choices you make.  Get a degree, take a vacation, etc. 3. Drives.  Behavior that can be controlled to some degree but will react to a stimulus and are necessary for the continuation of the species.  Hunger, sleep, thirst, sex.  Once the reaction to a sex stimulus occurs, it sets a pattern for continuance in that direction.  The Bible has a lot to say about deviant sex, even sex with other species.  God made man.  He gets to decide what is deviant, not Dear Abby.  We don't want to offend anyone by being politically incorrect.  God doesn't have that problem.

Pat called to say she is giving me a birthday reception on the 31st.  My BDay is the 26th.  If a person is lucky, they get four score and ten years.  I've almost done the four score, still doing good and am planning on another score rather than only ten.  God has really blessed me with years.  And hopefully I can continue to keep my sanity.  Or maybe I've already lost it and don't know it????

Staying active and involved is the key.  Of course, I don't smoke, I don't drink, and I watch my weight.  On the other hand, I've had open heart surgery 45 years ago and on my third pacemaker.  But I never think about that.  The cardiologist says I have a perfect, strong heart.  It just doesn't beat--because they took the walls out forty five years ago, along with the timing mechanism. (AV node.)  Other than that,  I'm good.  All I need is a battery.  Wind me up and I'm good to go.

I worked David and Lindsey's estate sale Friday and Saturday.  It is amazing the things people do.  Lindsey had put a lot of pieces of jewelry in quart fruit jars--literally packed them with really nice stuff and screwed the lid on.  I was watching the shelves that the jars were on, and when people asked what was in them, I told them it was like a grab bag in a jar--but that everything in the jar was undamaged and useable.  If you buy the jar, you get everything--whatever--is in it.

However, this one woman proceeded to pour everything in one of the jars out on the tufted carpet!!  Blocking traffic.  What a mess.  Then she decided she didn't want the whole jar, just a few pieces.  Hundreds and hundreds of earrings, rings, bracelets, etc.  There was a sign on the wall which she ignored.  I explained to her that the price was for the entire jar, that you were not supposed to pour the contents out.  And that you couldn't cherry pick through it.  She wasn't happy.  I wasn't either, since it all had to picked up and a zillion pierced earrings were stuck in the carpet.  She didn't buy the jar.  By that time, I didn't want to sell it to her anyway.  I was nice.  I decided she probably couldn't read???

People are funny.  Some are really polite.  Some are rude.  I guess it takes all kinds.  I love to talk to the veterans.  They usually have a cap on with their service emblem.  I appreciate the fact that they served--and like to have an opportunity to tell them so.  Ken always wore a USMC cap when we went to breakfast, and inevitably some other jarhead would stop and they would visit.  Band of Brothers.  I'm always proud to say, "My husband was a Marine."