It is a precious gift to be loved.  Loved with no restrictions.  Loved completely and faithfully.  That is how Ken loved me.  I will never again be loved like that.  He is gone.  So I will now be a family of one.  I have no interest of being a family of two again.

The thing I miss the most is "Not talking."  Being in the same room and looking up to see that he is there.  Me doing one thing, him doing another. It is a peaceful quietness of togetherness without any need to say anything.  Just knowing he is there.  Knowing you are not alone.  Confident in the love of another person.

Before Ken died, my friend Carolyn (who knew Ken was dying) told me that there was no way to prepare yourself for being alone after 57 years.  "People will say that they know how you must feel," she said, "...but they don't.  You have to have had a wonderful marriage for many, many years--and then have it stop and turn into something strange that seems like a void.  Like you no longer exist."

She lost Wayne over thirteen years ago.  "People will say, he's gone.  You need to move on.  Someday they will lose their mate and know that it is almost impossible.  You never get over it.  You can't erase a lifetime.  Yes, you have to make new friends.  But in most cases, your couples friends will move on--since you are no longer a couple."  She was right.  It's true that some people marry again.  Maybe I would if God plopped someone down on my doorstep and said, "This one needs you."

It takes a lot of getting used to.  And sometimes, I don't think I ever will.  I look up at his empty recliner and wonder who I am.  I sometimes feel like half of nothing.  I'm not whining.  Most of my days are good.  But every now and then, when I lift my eyes to speak to him and he's not there, I am confused.  It's okay.  What I had to say to him was nothing anyway.

I like my life.  I fill it up with things I like to do.  I have always been able to be happy when I am by myself.  I am not necessarily lonely being alone.  But before, I always knew I was not alone.  I knew Ken was there and that I was special to him.   And that made me special.  It gave me freedom to be myself.  I'm just not sure who that is anymore.  People don't want you to talk about things like this.  It makes them uncomfortable.  Feel free to delete this blog.

I have a snake that lives in my back yard.  A good snake.   He is a four foot long garden snake.  I've seen him twice now.  He comes to the Koi pond to drink water.  He eats bugs, and keeps mice away.  Although there aren't many mice around--maybe because I have a "pest controller" in the yard?

He has a yellow stripe down his back, but is otherwise dark in color.  My daughter has a six foot black snake that lives in her back yard.  He crawls into the hen house and eats her eggs.  I asked her what she was going to do about that, and she said that an egg or two every week was a small price to pay for keeping the mice away from her hen house.

Every one seems to be afraid of snakes.  I think they are interesting.  I like frogs and earthworms and such.  One of my friends had a son that used to bring me earthworms from time to time for my garden.  He would knock at the door and hand me a coffee can full of dirt and wigglers.  I would rather have a can of earthworms than a dozen roses any day of the week.

I think the fear of snakes comes from a mistaken idea of the serpent in the garden of Eden.  The serpent was a beautiful winged creature.  Said to be the most beautiful of all creatures.  There is no way that Eve would have been tempted by something ugly.  Certainly she wouldn't have been tempted by a snake.

But when Adam and Eve disobeyed God, God cast them out of the garden and condemned the serpent to forever more slink around on his belly in the dust: hence the name "serpent" was wrongly attached to a snake.  Genesis 3:14-15  Evil was disguised as a serpent, beautiful, and above all other creatures.  You yourself will never be tempted by something ugly and repugnant.  The devil tempts us with things that are alluring to us.  And the alluring things of the world lead to our downfall.

That serpent knows you well.  He knows your weak spots.  That's where he will tempt you.  "Be sober, be vigilant...your adversary, the devil walks about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour." 1 Peter 5:8

I read something today that I find disturbing.  Oprah said that, "There are many ways to God."  The reason I find it disturbing is that millions of people will hear her and believe her--and look no further.  Her words will be the only words they will ever hear on the subject because they neither go to church nor read the Bible.  They will believe her because she is famous.

In the Gospel, John 14:6, Christ said, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  No man comes to the Father except by me."  Jesus was telling us something true.  He was telling us that God had made a way to reconcile us to Himself.  One way.  Through Jesus' death on the cross.  He is our sin payment.  God designed The Way.  And then, He died for it.

There is no other religion that address our nature--which is sinful.  There is no other religion that offers a solution to our nature.  There is no other religion that makes a sacrifice on our behalf.

Statements like Oprah's are going to give those who hear her words--and believe them--a false sense of security that will ultimately separate them from God--a God who loves them and sent His son to be our way back to Him.  The only way.  God has said so in his word and He didn't ask for Oprah's opinion on the subject.

I am reminded of the first time we heard someone else declare her "Truth" which was diametrically opposed to God's truth.  It was in the early 50's in a column by "Dear Abby."  She declared that sexual deviance occurred because "people were born that way."  She kept saying it over and over until people everywhere accepted what she said as truth.  Dear Abby said you are born that way, so it must be true.  But God didn't ask for Dear Abby's opinion on that subject either.

We have become a nation of people who do not follow God.  People listen to the "Stars" and follow them and their words, their messages.  It doesn't seem to matter what God's truth is.

It makes me sad.

I am dead set on knocking out a wall and putting a door from my dinette into the back bedroom--that I never use.  I think I would use the room as a music room if it was more accessible.  When I bought the house, I wanted to do it, but everyone talked me out of it.  Now it is three years later, and I still want to do it.  But now, I will have to deal with all the dust it will incur.

I am reminded of the time I tore down a 27 foot wall in a house we lived in when Ken came back from Nam.  I had built the house, drawn the plans for it and decided I didn't like the wall.  So one morning, I got a crowbar and a hammer and started tearing out sheetrock and studs.  Had it done by 4:00 PM and all the studs and sheetrock stacked on the curb next to the street.  When Ken came home, he looked at me, then back at where the wall had been and asked, "Was it load bearing?"  I had no idea.  I'm lucky the entire roof didn't fall in on me.  (Ken never cared what I did to a house.)

I know about studs, sheetrock, electrical lines and unexpected water or gas lines in a wall because that wasn't the only time I've torn one down--or put one up.  But I can't do that anymore.  However, I have a wonderful handyman with two twin 13 year old sons who can do it.   The boys are my I-Phone gurus.  I have them on quick dial.

Question is, am I wrong.  Everyone thinks so but me--and I am starting to lose my confidence.  Maybe I'm nuts?  But as it is now, my marimba is in that room, and I can't get it out without tearing it all apart into separate pieces--which is no easy task.  It won't go through the bedroom door without breaking it down.  And there isn't any other room with a place where I can put it.

I carry my small marimba around in the trunk of my car, so I can play it when someone wants me to--about once a month.  If I had a wider door to the back bedroom, I could roll the big marimba out and take it in one piece through the front door as well, and have someone pick it up in a pickup. Done.

Why not just keep playing on the one in my car trunk?  Because it is two and a half octaves and the big one is four octaves.  The large one I practice on, and when I play the small one, the keys are so narrow that I struggle.  And the big one has a beautiful deep tone.  I think cutting a door is reasonable.  I am not nuts.

I worked at Edmond Antiques today.  A man came in who was obviously very bright.  We got into a conversation, and after talking about Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Descartes, etc., and their theories, I asked him if he was a Christian.  The ensuing conversation was fascinating.

He had read the Bible, searched for answers, could discuss many of the scriptures--it was obvious that he knew scripture.  And he answered my question and said, "I want to believe.  I have an inner desire to believe in something that is true--true like the absolutes of mathematics, or quantum physics.  But I can't find any absolutes in the Bible.  I can't find anything that I know for certain."

I have never had a conversation like the one I had with this man.  He talked for an hour about science, philosophy, physics, humanities, and on an on.  I tried every way I knew how to talk about the things he knew and pointed out that:  all of the things he believed came from reading and accepting what he read.  And pointed out that although the men who wrote the accounts in the four gospels told the stories that they remembered differently, it was obvious that the events they were talking about happened, were real, and that they each one saw those events.

I questioned his reasons for accepting the writers of all of the men we discussed from science and asked what he thought the difference was between them and the things he had read in Scripture.  He didn't know.  I pointed out that everything we know comes from reading, or experiencing.  Again, he said, "I want to believe.  I just wish I could accept the fact that there is a creator--as a fact.  I wish I knew that there was a God who heard prayer--but it doesn't seem that there is a way to prove that.

Then, he put his hand out and thanked me for the conversation and said it was one of the most insightful discussions he had had in a long time.

I held his hand, looked up at him and said, "I am going to pray for you."  And he said, "I know that you are going to do that."

And I have been praying for him all day.  And will continue to do so.  That he can find his way out of the darkness he is in and take a step of faith.  If that happens, he will then know the truth.

Proverbs 27:17  "Iron sharpens iron; so a man (woman) sharpens the countenance of their friend."

Sally Casey is my friend.  I love her.  When I first met her, she was a newly converted Catholic who knew nothing much about the Bible.  But when she was converted to Christ--the man--and not to a particular church, she was more eager to learn scripture than anyone I had ever met or taught.  I have had the privilege of watching her grow into the full stature of Christ.  And now, she is a totally new woman, full of grace.  And knows more scripture than I do.  She studies constantly.

I told her the other day that I agreed with a friend of hers who had called her a prophet.  The Biblical  definition of a prophet is not someone who makes something up that isn't in the Bible.  It is someone who shares Christ.  Who shares the Bible's truths.  That is Sally.  She speaks up when the rest of us are still asking whether we should say something.  She speaks up when the rest of us are still trying to figure out what it is that we should say.  She is so bold in the Lord that you have to be in awe of her.

When I first met her, I was her teacher.  Now she is mine.  Sally is my friend.  I love her.

There have been many women in my life that are my friends.  Those I have left behind in other cities, and those who have left me to move to another town.  I think of Carolyn, of course, and Becky Bacon, and Kathy Mitchell...and once I start naming them, there is no end.  I will leave someone out. It is a far cry from the post I wrote two weeks ago of being a new bride with no friends--and finally making a friend of Lib.  Lib--who said, "Get up.  I'm going to bind your breasts so your milk won't come in.  You aren't dead yet.  You have two little girls who need you."

My friends teach me.  Things I don't know.  The more friends we have, the more we learn.  I was working an estate sale last week, and my daughter-in-law Stacy was taking pictures for my friend Kathy Mitchell to show her things she might want to buy.  I said, "Stacy, don't just take frontal pictures.  Take pictures from every angle and every side.  Kathy will want to see that."  I could say that because I know Kathy.  The more we know about someone, the better friend we can be.  (Stacy said, "I know!")"A friend loves at all times..."  Proverbs 17:17.  Even when we can no longer be close.

I often wonder who is out there reading what I write.  I know that Scott reads it.  He forwards it to his friends where he works. This is post 1,412.  One thousand, four hundred and twelve.  How in the world can that be?  I just get up in the morning and write 6 inches.  That's it.  I edit so that I don't go over that because I know that is about all anyone's brain can handle at one time.  Six inches.

Today I picked kale from my garden, and sautéed it in bacon drippings.  Exquisite. I had never done that before.  Of course bacon drippings is the premier Southern oil.  I fried okra in it for years until I found out it might kill me.  Now I use canola oil--but nothing is as good as bacon drippings.  Except bacon itself--which I think should be one of our food groups along with vegetables and fruits.  Seems like everything that is good, is bad for you.  Why is that.  God could just as easily made bacon and pie, and cinnamon rolls, and chocolate, and cupcakes, etc. be health foods.

I am not really a sweet eater.  But bread.  Bread is the staff of life.  I love bread.  I adore bread.  And Jesus endorsed eating bread (!!):  "Jesus took bread and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples and said, 'Take eat; this is my body'."  Matthew 26:26.  I could easily eat an entire loaf; however, I don't think Jesus was advocating for me to eat all the bread I want to eat.  He was about to die, and wanted his disciples to remember Him.  Especially when they ate bread.

Now we recognize "The Lord's Supper" and Baptism, as the two ordinances that Jesus left for us to do.  To remind us of Him, and what He did for us.  At my church, when the pastor baptizes someone, he usually says, "Buried with Christ in baptism," as he submerges the believer--and "Raised to walk in the newness of Life," as they are lifted up out of the water.  This symbolizes death to the old way, and resurrection to a new way.

I wish the "new way" would let me eat anything I want, any time I want it.  But no,  I have to use discipline.  I don't like being disciplined.  And that sums up the nature of us human beings.  Thank goodness I have a new nature which is at war with the old.  As Paul said, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to do according to his purpose." Philippians 2:12-13.  And "Christ in you, the hope of Glory." Collosians 1:27. That inner voice is what keeps me skinny.  Otherwise I would weigh 500 pounds from eating bread.