Crazy Life

I live next to a cemetery and I like to walk the dogs there. Today I was looking at the baby section and I noticed there were two sets of twins. I cannot imagine the pain of parents who bury a child who lived one hour or one day, sometimes a couple of months or even a year. But to bury two at the same time must make a heart as heavy as it could ever be. I also noticed two tiny graves about a row apart  with exactly the same name. I went back and forth comparing. They were exact in every way, except that they were three years apart. I try to imagine those parents. Their loss, their hopefulness and then a second tragedy. Of course we don't know the rest of the story. I like to think that they went on to have healthy children. I saw this on a tombstone:   Jeremiah 29:11 I knew I wouldn't remember by the time I got home so I pulled out my phone to Look it up, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, pl

<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({ google_ad_client: "ca-pub-2360701609150243", enable_page_level_ads: true }); </script> For many years I have pondered on Mary and her life. Could I sacrifice a child to save others?  Mary was a young woman brought up in a faithful Jewish home. She was betrothed to the older Joseph, a man already established in his business. Like many young girls I can picture her chattering to her mother about wedding plans, guests to invite, wine to serve.  Perhaps she was smitten with Joseph like a teen girl today might be.  Then, SOMETHING happened. When Joseph found out, he could have divorced her. A betrothal was a serious commitment and required an official dissolving. God had a different idea and sent an angel to Joseph in his sleep. Joseph was obedient and proceeded with

<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({ google_ad_client: "ca-pub-2360701609150243", enable_page_level_ads: true }); </script> My brother Steve and I were talking the other day about how much we miss Mom. We had the same mother, and we didn't. She used to say we were both only children. I was born when my mother was 18 years old. My brother was born when she was 31. We were not raised by the same woman because of the time lapse.  I had a young playful mother, he had a mature responsible mother. He had more material things, I had hand drawn paper dolls.  I told him that I really wouldn't mind dying because I would see her and my grandmothers again. He gave me what I call the "Athiest Eye Roll." I told him that without the Hope of Heaven I could see no point to our lives here. He said the

<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({ google_ad_client: "ca-pub-2360701609150243", enable_page_level_ads: true }); </script> I have not posted in nearly a month. The busy holiday season gave me excuses for falling behind on prayer and study. (I have to get those batches of cookies done, the presents wrapped and so on.) Also, I do not choose what I write about. I sometimes have ideas but the Holy Spirit often does revisions or chooses something completely different. I was in a period of my life when I felt as if my prayers were falling into the dirt beneath my feet.  I couldn't feel God. It felt like I was knocking on the door where no one was home. I called the wisest woman I knew, my grandmother Mommy. (Georgia) She clucked her tongue the way she did when she was puzzling over a crossword problem.

<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({ google_ad_client: "ca-pub-2360701609150243", enable_page_level_ads: true }); </script> I have struggled with something you will find shocking.                             POTTY MOUTH It began in Junior High and I have no idea what started it. My poor mother never, ever, ever uttered such words.  Believe me, if raising me did not cause her to curse, I know nothing else would. Our front door was warped and at certain times of the year it required some extra pushing to get the swollen wood to close. One day I loudly commanded it to shut as I shoved on it. I was misunderstood and no matter how much I protested my previous record caused me to have to serve out my sentence of being grounded for the week. Fortunately it was not tennis season, or I might have broke out

Thanksgiving (the holiday) is now over - the day we talk about being grateful for our blessings. I hope we all do recognize them more than one day a year! My father's parents (Ethel and Carson) prayed a blessing over every meal. One of my strongest memories is them both in their old age kneeling together nightly in front of the couch praying aloud together. I understand now why they did it in front of the couch. My joints have reached the age of needing assistance to arise also. In the Bible the word bless appears 127 times, the word blessed 302 and the word blessing over 600. It is a recurring theme in the Bible. The Hebrew verb barak means kneel or who respect. A related word is berakhah meaning gift or present. So, to bring a gift while kneeling out of respect. That makes me think of three guys who traveled to see a certain baby. Meanings of words often change over time. The word faggot at one time was a small bundle of sticks for burning. The word fag was referring to a

I read repeatedly and  hear Christians saying that we need God in our schools. I believe what they are really saying is that they wish their particular brand of religion to be taught in the classroom. I was shocked several years ago to learn that my son was being indoctrinated in Islam at his Charter school by a Muslim teacher. I learned this at dinner one night when he started telling me what a great religion it is!  There you go! Religion in school. I do not think religion belongs in school. Teaching religion is a parent's right, responsibility and decision. If religious teaching is allowed in school, then whose religion should be taught? If I were Jewish I would choose Judaism, other parents might choose Islam, Wicken, Pagan, Jehovah Witness, or Church of the F.S.M. (Flying Spaghetti Monster). I am a protestant but do not feel the school should educate my child in any religion. Home and Sunday School are the proper venues for this. The Bible instructs parents repeatedly ab

When I was young we had a very large rectangle mirror that hung over the couch. I must have been reading Alice in Wonderland because I would climb on the back of the couch and stare deeply into the mirror looking for another world to jump into. As much as I flattened my face against the mirror and as hard as I wished, I remained in my own living room. Have you ever been all gussied up, looking your best and ready for an evening out and stopped to look in the mirror? I always think "Oh, No!" I thought I looked thinner, that my hair looked better, and I did not realize my eye makeup made me resemble a raccoon. I believe the mirror forces us to see things as they are and not as we wish. This is an interesting poem I found on Tumblr. I hope you like it Weighing  Shaving, I wonder how much the mirror would weigh with nothing in it. I step away, step back, touch glass with fingertips. Every day I do this, looking at the face I’ve earned with countless joys an

Those of you who know me well probably rolled your eyes as soon as you saw the title. As I keep telling you, my past is more about how NOT to be a Christian. I am still working hard at how to BE one. In Ephesians 4:2-3 men get some basic instructions on marriage. For husbands, love your wives just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her. All well and good. He should love you enough to die for you. Nothing in there about dishes or toilets. 1 Peter 3:1   “Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives." I am not going to be bossed around!  Hold up. Read the whole verse. This isn't about being bossed around. It is about showing your husband the same love you get from Jesus so he can see what it is about. Witnessing through action. There are some others that tell the expectations of a wife. Titus 2:4-5 and Timothy 3:11.  Nothing too

Shoplifting, oh dear you might start to think this is a family trait. I was in the fourth grade, I had recently gone to live with just my mother and attend a new school. Parkway for you locals, which sadly has been torn down. It was a wonderful neighborhood full of families with children, heaven for an only child. There was a candy store we all called Red's at one end of our division and tennis courts and a drug store on the other end. The drug store was called Salvins and it had a soda fountain inside. I had ice cream there once when my Uncle Clifford gave us some money. But you could get a Popsicle at Reds for seven cents and share it with a friend. I have a cousin (you know who you are) and she has been my nemesis most of our lives until after high school, which we attended together. She is six months younger than I and from the time she learned to walk our relationship was toy snatching, shoving, hair pulling, sand in the mouth, bad mouthing,, and that was all her of cour

I .have four children. The second one was a little more...well, just a little more than the others. We went through a lying stage (I'll save that for another time) a fist fighting stage and a shoplifting stage. It started out harmlessly enough. We had been at the K-marx (as my beloved Pauline called it) and when we got in the car he had a few stickers that he did not have before we went into the store. It turns out the package was already opened and so he helped himself to a few. I explained that even though the package was open, and some were already missing, that since we didn't pay for it, they did not belong to us. I thought we were good. A bit later we were out and about and I needed to stop by the bank. They were having a promotion 'Your Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow' with a kettle of rocks spray painted gold. I did my bank business and put my small boys back in the car and they buckled up. This was the days before they had to ride in car seats