This Is Getting Ridiculous!

This bird watching stuff is cutting into my reading time.

I wanted to say my housekeeping time, but I hate to flat out lie.

I can't even sit at the table and stay long enough to eat a meal. That's a shame, that right there is.

But the Rose Breasted Grosbeaks have called their cousins and a few minutes ago there were five male Grosbeaks and two female ones. They were all fussing around the suet feeder, but when the Red Bellied Woodpecker showed up, they sat sweetly on the branch until  he finished.

He's bigger, so I guess he pulled rank. Actually, he totally ignored them. The male Cardinal joined them once.

Maybe the suet we bought specifies birds with red on them only.

And  here's something I don't understand: One of the males keep smacking into a window. He's got four other REAL Grosbeaks to fight with, which he doesn't, so why slam into my window? He even left little red and white feathers on the glass.

And don't preach to me about bird safety! I got all kinds of stuff hanging in my sun room windows so birds can easily see they can't fly through them.  That's why I figure he saw his reflection enough that he was fighting, like Cardinals and Blue Birds do.

It's a real trip to watch the male Blue Bird fight himself in the side mirror of the car.

Now, I've always thought bird watchers (the serious ones) were....strange. I thought they needed to find something to do. I figured  unless you were a cat, there was a little something loose up there in the old noggin.

I've always been a bird listener, sitting high up on my back porch and closing my eyes, it's truly a beautiful symphony.

But watching? I mean, really?

But I have been converted. It was an accident, for sure. And now I can't stay away from the dang windows.

It's a relief when it gets too dark to see out.

Maybe in a few minutes I can actually pick up my book and read.

But last night all I could think about were birds.

Sorta like I've been possessed by Alfred Hitchcock. That movie was scary, and I watched birds after seeing that, but in a different way. Took me months to get over it. (I think I was eight when I saw the movie,  not a good idea.)

I'll try not to blog about birds next time....but I ain't making no promises.

Husband says a Double Breasted Mattress Thrasher could show up next, and he's real good at knowing his birds.

I can't wait!

Bird (on the) Brain

Boy, we sure have had a lot of rain! In a town where there are three big rivers and about one or two bazillion creeks, that can become a pretty dangerous thing.

Yesterday rivers and creeks were coming out of their banks while it continued to thunder and rain to beat the band.

This morning it was quite overcast (the sun is weakly shining now).

I don't know if this had anything to do with what all has been going on outside my windows, but you have to wonder.

I looked out, and there was one - no two!- Indigo Buntings eating seed in our yard. These birds are small and a deep royal blue color that, as my  husband says, will make you want to throw rocks at the Eastern Blue Bird, because the Bunting is so much bluer. Pretty soon they were joined by the male Cardinal. I was impressed.

Suddenly up in the tree I saw a bird I'd never seen before, and Husband said he thought it was a Rose Breasted Grosbeak. He looked it up, it was. Then another joined it, mates I suppose.

At one point, one Grosbeak, one Indigo Bunting, and one Eastern Blue Bird were sitting on the same limb.

I kid you not.

Suddenly, the Red Bellied Woodpecker joined the group, too.

I tell you, I am still giddy.

How do I prove all this? Did I take pictures, you ask?

Foolish, foolish question.

Of course not.

Oh, I got my camera out. And Lord knows I tried.

But guess whose zoom has decided to quit? Guess whose focus lens is on the death list?

Yep.  That would be my camera.

Of course, Husband's battery is dead. (His camera's, not his personal battery, I don't think he has one).

Daughter's camera was in the drawer and by the time she got it out of the drawer and case and got to a window, the birds had flown.

You may enter the expletive of your choice here:                            .

Thank God for Google.

Indigo Bunting

Red Bellied Woodpecker

Rose Breasted Grosbeak

male Cardinal

Don't forget to look out your windows today. You  might get a rainbow of birds.

That's all for now. Gotta go back to the bay window and see if there's a Yellow Bellied Sap Sucker out there.

I hear there's one born every  minute!

The Wren's Nest

            When spring fever hit this year and it was time to make our porches “user friendly”, we were surprised to find a wren’s nest full of eggs in the watering can. We carefully avoided that corner of the porch during our cleaning process, even though a party was planned in the extreme near future.

            Partly out of curiosity and partly out of a panicky feeling that the birds were running out of time before the party, we watched the nest closely.

            One morning I heard tiny, demanding chirps coming from the can and I knew the wrens were now proud parents. It was clearly a multiple birth! As we watched, sitting quite close to the nest, Mama and Papa brought all sorts of tasty treats to their babies.

            After a few days, I swear I noticed fatigue setting in. They began to look harried as they took turns back and forth to the nest, meeting constant needs. Parenthood was in full operational force.

            Mama and Papa became quite tame. We would sit on the porch as they hopped about our feet and flew right by our noses on their trips to the local “Bugs R Us” store. If we were polite we could look into the watering can and see three or four greedy beaks attached to rather scrawny necks. The minute the babies would see us they would set up a ruckus, demanding we feed them too. Fear, apparently, was not in their vocabulary.

            Then, two days before the big party, as we were in the last throes of cleaning frenzy, my nephew noticed the mama bird acting strangely, hanging on the window screen, chirping loudly. Concerned that she was somehow hung in the screen, I ran out to the porch to figure out a rescue. That’s when I saw a very wobbly baby perched on the handle of the watering can, his fuzzy baby feathers still haloed around his head, fear now clearly understood, as he listened to his mama calling him to come. I froze in place and the children stood watching at the window.

           All four chicks came out of the nest, pretty much against their wills. As they teetered off the can, plopping onto the porch floor, both parents called encouragingly to them. The babies, being fairly intelligent for their young ages, hid under the wicker chairs, refusing to come out.

           To my great alarm, both parents left. All babies began to squawk in terrified unison. Quickly their folks returned with a big juicy bug in each beak.

          Greed did the chicks in, and out they came. One flew to a parent, managing to land on the chair cushion (and pooped all over it in the process). Another got up to the chair arm. After much coaxing, they made it off the porch, into the rose bushes, and finally onto the wood pile.

           Mama and Papa flew up onto the dog house roof as the final height for their offsprings’ lesson. One by one the chicks struggled with their wings until they too were up on the roof. Victory was theirs!

            And mine too, I might add. We excitedly told the story of parenting in an eggshell to anyone who would listen, and my porch was next to godliness by party time.

            My daughter wrote a poem, with very little help from me, about the impact of witnessing this event:

                        There’s things I never saw before today –

                        Last night a comet in the sky,

                        Today I watched birds learn to fly.

                        Tomorrow God grant answers why

                        To tell me more of nature’s way.

            I only hope I am as successful in the struggle to help my daughter leave the nest one day, feeling confident that I taught her all the lessons she will need to be independent out there, soaring to her own incredible heights of winged victory.

                                   

 *This story was written when my daughter was around six or seven years old. She is now twenty-two, and has one foot out of the nest.

I No Longer Control My Life

I no longer control my life.
Pain tells me: Get up! Go to bed! Stop walking! Stop sitting! Stop standing!

Awakened in the middle of the night by a roaring, raging beast,
Only to be corralled by chemical relief,
Becomes a slumbering dragon breathing slow fire.
Waiting till I can be caught off guard, it pounces again, attacking.

But Saints called down the  Word of God.
An avenging angel stepped forward.
He guards the place that is really me,
And allows no demons near.

With strong arms 'cross his mighty chest,
And wings unfurled, at rest,
He says: "This place belongs to the Almighty,
You will not enter in."

In this refuge full of serenity's light,
I float upon living waters.
Encased in purity, love and peace,
My spirit rests within.

So, though the fire and thunderstorm of pain
Can, rumbling, wake me from my sleep,
Its lightening flashes cannot burn the me within
That's in my Father's keep.

I fiercely fight the pain with prayer,
For those I love need covered.
Lost sleep is not for ought
If graced by Holy conversation.

It soothes my soul and gives drink to thirst,
Where tranquil whispers sweeten
Darkness. Shadowed deep with softly sung
Lullabies from God.


by: kathi harper hill

"Sit! Stay!" God Can Do As He Pleases

This blog may make some people uncomfortable, or even angry.

That's what I'm here for!

I firmly believe that God uses animals all the time to do His will, saving people in ways that we see as miraculous.

The first story that comes to mind is the recent incident where the dog somehow got the phone and dialed 9-1-1 when his master fell and was unconscious.

But if you read much, you'll come across this stuff all the time.

When God was busy creating this universe and all that's in it, the Bible says God breathed a spirit into Adam's body, (made from the earth), Adam became nephesh, a living being or "soul". (Genesis 2:7) The same Hebrew word, nephesh, is used for animals and for people. We are told that animals as well as people have "the breath of life" in them. God hand-made animals.

Don't get me wrong. They don't have human souls, nor were they made in God's image, as people were.

Christians in the past believed, without question, that animals had their own souls. It wasn't even questioned until the advent of seventeenth century of Enlightenment. Throughout the history of the church, the classic understanding of living things has included the doctrine that animals, as well as humans, have souls.*

This really upsets some people, I'm not sure why.

Perhaps, because of this fact, I have seen God's Hand work in animals in ways that saved the day, so to speak.

Not too awfully long after I had the back surgery that changed my life, I was at home, alone. Molly (my American Bulldog) and I had been out walking. We'd been in just a few minutes when I noticed her muzzle was swelling up. Her breathing became labored, it was fast becoming a medical emergency.

It was 7:30 a.m. I prayed that someone at the animal hospital would answer the phone, and they did. I told them what was happening and they said to come on in, but there would be no vet there till 8:30 or 9:00 a.m.

I got Molly to struggle to the car, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get up in the car.

She was smothering to death.

I couldn't lift or even help this 100 pound animal, so I stood there crying hysterically. I prayed like crazy, and finally started praying out loud. "Lord, You see this situation. You know I can't do anything. But I know You can do everything. I know Molly doesn't have free will like I do, and right now I thank you for that. We need help. In the name of Jesus Christ, Molly, get in the car."

She did.

I prayed all the way to the vet, as her condition became worse by the minute. I prayed for no traffic, and the way was clear. I prayed out loud that a vet would just decide out of the blue to show up to work early and be there by the time we got there.

One did.

They told me Molly wouldn't make it, it was too late.

She is eight years old now.

Do I hear a "Praise the Lord!"?

Yesterday I had to get my geriatric (not a) pet cat Lily to the vet. She is terrified of a carrier and the last time I put her in one I got a gash on my hand that stayed for months.

So I prayed that God would see fit to allow her to gently be placed in the carrier.

He did.

Now, my God is an awesome God, and He shows this to me in different ways every day.

But when He does something for just me and mine, it makes me feel more loved than anyone else on the planet.

I can never repay Him.

But I sure can praise Him!

*Heaven by Randy Alcorn

Odd Conversation tidbits

Pulling up to a fast food drive thru and ordering, then pulling to window and young girl sticks her head out and says, "Ya'll are the ones that ordered blah, blah, blah with cookies, right?"
________________________________________________________________________________

Me to Daughter: "I've heard that new thrift store is really good. Let's plan on going to The Shutterbug Wednesday."

Daughter: "It's Clutterbug, Mama, not Shutterbug."

Me: Oh, that's right! Shutterbug is - " (and before I can finish my sentence)

Daughter: "Some old fashioned kind of dance."

Me:  "No, no, that's Jitterbug. Shutterbug is a magazine for camera buffs."

Daughter: "Whatever."

_________________________________________________________________________________

Husband and I talking about another slide into the moral lapse of our country, when Daughter (about age fifteen then) chimes in: "We're all going to  heck in a hellbasket."

_________________________________________________________________________________

Mother and other workers giving their order for lunch to my daddy, who would bring it back to the department store. A lady store clerk Mother worked with then turns to customer who has previously asked for help with sizing a bra for his wife. Store clerk asks: "And what size hamburger would she need?"

______________________________________________________________________________

Husband, Daughter and I talking about the tragedy in the news, where the tiger had mauled the famous partner in a taming act. But we couldn't think of the men's names. "Sigmund and Freud!" Daughter responds brightly.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Me, about a twelve year old, watching "Bonanza" with Daddy.

Daddy, watching the character Adam intently volunteers this bit of information: "I hear that feller that plays Adam is really bald on top and wears a tee pee."

______________________________________________________________________________

Two year old Daughter wanders into my room with an expectant look on her face. "What did you say, Mama?"

Me: "I didn't say anything, honey."

Daughter, thoughtfully, "Then what was it you didn't say?"

__________________________________________________________________________

Daughter and I at local restaurant. Waiter walks up, smiling to self, obviously listening to those little voices inside: "May I take your order?"

Daughter orders.

Waiter looks alarmed. "No, you don't want to order that."

Daughter, looking at me with big eyes."Well, okay. I'll have something else."

Relief washes over crazy waiter and he then fails to give us silverware, hands us the bill with over a hundred dollars in the black cover that's supposed to be our bill, and when he hands me the pen with which to sign the credit card receipt the pen springs apart in my hand and parts fly all over the restaurant.

____________________________________________________________________________

Client pitching fit over telephone about her bill, so I take the phone from the secretary and ask what the problem is. Lady says: "I'm tired of ya'll hairy-assing me!"

Me: We aren't trying to harass you, ma'am."
_____________________________________________________________________________

Me pulling up to drive through at a fast food place, "I'll have an order of fries, please."

Person inside: "Would you like fries with that?"

Me: "Well, yeah, that was sort of the point.....

Which one are you?

Anytime you hear my Mother utter the question, "Now, which one are you?" generally means trouble.

I'll give you this, sometimes it simply means which doctor/nurse/aide or you, or which daughter are you of so and so.

But almost never. Generally, and almost always, it is in regards to that delightful double digit delivery called twins.

While still in the ER, a young woman came in, looking at me, mouth open, about to say something to me.

I was thinking, "She looks familiar...", when my mother took over, having recognized the woman's great-grandfather.

I kid you not.

She asked which one she was, because she is a twin. She told my mother "I'm Zoe." (I've changed their  names to protect privacy and also because I can only remember one of their names....)

After ascertaining whether she was the one who had married the Jones boy (she was not, that was her twin), she informed Zoe that her great-grandfather on her father's side was a brother to my mother's grandmother on her mother's side.

AND:

They had siblings who were twins!

Zoe allowed she knew there were other twins in the family a few generations back, and seemed pleased to find out we were all related.

Then she turned to me (finally) and said she used to go to our church and that her mother brought her children to our Wednesday night program sometimes. When she said that, it clicked and I remembered her children.

They are twins.

Mother then told her that she herself had twin boys (the boys are pushing fifty) and that the boy sitting next to me was one of the twins' son.

And that, in fact, her husband's (my daddy) father had siblings that were twins, and so did my father's mother's family!

She also mentioned another set of twins who never made it to life, but were miscarriages.

This twin, aka Zoe, left and in a few moments, you guessed it, the other twin "Cloe" showed up.

She's the one married to the Jones boy.

We went through all this again, except by now my niece was sitting where my nephew had been, but that's okay because her daddy is the other twin.

And if you understood any of that, you need to see somebody!

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme Some News...

By the time Daughter and I got Mother to the hospital ER, things weren't going well, to say the least.

When Brother #1 called me a few minutes after seven a.m. to tell me I needed to "Go to Mama's and put her in the hospital" (WHAT?), she had been throwing up all night.

He'd been up all night long with her (they live in the same house). He'd called my other brother (henceforth to be called Brother #2), at 5:00 a.m. because he felt like he had to get to work to put up stock that the truck had dropped off.

Now, Brother #2 ain't in the best of shape himself, in fact he is having some surgery Monday. He had been there two hours or so when I was notified of the goings on.

I slapped on some clothes (my dang teeth didn't get brushed until that night, thank God for chewing gum) and went.

She wasn't throwing up too much anymore, and even the dry heaves had left, but she'd also refused to drink even a sip of water.  Daughter went to the store and bought Pedilyte and Sprite.

When she couldn't even keep four sips of Pedilyte down without puking green stuff, I told her we had to go to the ER.

When I asked Brother #1 why he didn't go during the night, he said she refused to go. Sigh.

The staff were kind and efficient and the diagnosis came back pretty quickly - a severe UTI. Blood work resulted in more alarming news. Apparently she'd let it go on for several days without telling anyone and the infection was in her kidneys as well, which can be quite dangerous.

So instead of staying in the ER a few hours to get a bag of fluid, she was admitted to the hospital, so she could receive IV antibiotics, too.

She saw a billion different aides, nursing staff, a medical student and a P.A. from New Hampshire. She told them all about her shoulder, her hip, her shingles. They would all listen patiently, then pull the conversation back to the serious problem of the moment. Finally it was dragged out of her that she'd been feeling "not right" in her lower abdomen area for "some time" and her back pain had really gotten pretty bad.

Keep in mind she's been to the doctor at least twice lately and failed to mention that...

So began the siege by this clan of room 204. Children, in-laws, grandchildren, all.

And tomorrow (or the next day) I will talk about the subject which begins with: "Now, which one are you?"

Run, people.

Run.

When Life Comes to a Screeching Halt and Other Funny Stuff

I haven't blogged in a few days because my 83 year old mother is in the  hospital. She was quite ill, but is now on the mend (I hope).

It is an exhausting thing to take turns staying with the patient in a hospital. It's either boring, scary, or overload  information thrown at you.

And sometimes it's hysterically funny.

I'm never one to save the best for last, plus I'm so tired my eyes are half shut as I type. I will say I've gleaned several good stories from my stays so far, so be prepared to read hospital stuff for a few days.

Anyway, the funny:

Keep in mind my mother is 83 years old and her bladder ain't what it used to be. (and no, she doesn't have the Internet, so I'm safe saying all this stuff). She is also being fed lots of fluids IV as she was dehydrated upon admission due to puking non-stop for six hours or so.

We are sitting there calmly, when suddenly she says, "I have to go to the bathroom now."

That's pretty impossible. First, there is helping her sit up. Then finding the bedroom shoes with her feet, because, and I quote, "I'm not walking barefoot on this floor." I have to unplug the IV stuff from the wall, and she and the pole have to partner dance to the bathroom.

She almost made it, and did for the  most part.

But since she didn't make it a little part, she decided that while she was up, it would be a good time to bathe since no one had offered to help her with that.

I go and make sure her room door is closed while she washes her face and hands. By the time I'm walking back over, she is pulling her gown over her head. I see there's gonna be a problem, and say, "No, no, don't do tha - "

But it's too late.

Her gown is now hanging on her IV tube, to which she is attached. She's yanking on the gown, and finally I say sternly, "STOP IT!"  And squeeze between her and the pole and a chair and manage to push the nurse  call button. When they answer, I tell them, "We need some help." Then I turn around to squeeze my way back to my mother, who is standing there in the altogether.

And notice that her window blinds are wide open.

Hello everybody!

And I can't get to them to close them.

The giggles begin.

The nurse comes in, has to get another nurse, and they finally untangle the whole mess while I wrap Mother in her housecoat so it looks like a fuzzy baby blue sarong.

Ten minutes later she has a new IV in a new place on the other arm and is sporting a clean gown.

She even brushed her teeth before she lay back down.

I never did get those window blinds closed.

I Am Done All Swolle Up

I've been on some antibiotics for eight days (supposed to take them for ten). I have had a UTI (I know, I know, TMI).

So, anyway, I had some more than usual joint pain Sunday, but with me, one never knows what my body is going to do next, so I just endured it.

This morning around five I awoke with terrible joint pain in my fingers, hands, wrists, ankles and tosies.

I had to take my mother to the opthalmologist, and while in the waiting room noticed my ankles, especially my left one, was swollen.

That's a new one.

I finally got alarmed enough that I called my doctor when I got home. The nurse called back pretty quickly, which is odd, and they wanted to see me. Dang, I'd just got home....but anyway, I went.

I'm having a reaction to the antibiotics, so I have to stop. She figures I'm all better any way, having taken them seven and a half days worth.

So, doesn't that beg the question (not that I asked it), why come I was supposed to take it for ten days?

Anyway, I knew you were just waiting with baited breath as to why I hadn't blogged today (ha).

That's why. I'm all swolle up and it hurts to type.

Until next time.

I'll Drink To That

I got a call from my cousin (Hey, Yankee Cuz!). We are going to meet up and do a little vacationing with our families this summer.

May I take a moment to say YAY!

Anyway, there was some concern from her family about us being of the non-drinking sort and them being the drinking sort.

I thought it was kinda sweet, because the concern came from her twenty-something boys. (their ages, not how  many of 'em).

I don't know if they didn't want to "offend" us, or if they were afraid they'd have to pretend they didn't drink while we were there.

Nope. Good thing, too. I'd hate to know I had to pretend I was a drinker while I was there!

But, as usual, all this got me to thinking. (Don't you wish I'd just stop with the thinking?)

Of course, we live in the Bible Belt, and there is a misconception that nobody drinks alcohol here. 

Well, that just made me snort.

So I looked at why my husband decided not to drink. I don't think it's a religious thing. His paternal grandfather was an alcoholic.  I think what made him not risk that chance was working with addicts for thirty years and seeing what alcoholism does to one and one's family.

Let me tell you, it ain't pretty.

I, too, worked with addicts and families for over thirty years. 

My paternal side of the family is fraught with people who simply didn't know how to drink other than destructively.

Those aren't the reasons I am a teetotaler.

I could tell you I don't drink because if I did with all the medications I'm on, I'd probably wake up dead.

But that's not the real reason either.

The real reason is this: (are you ready?)

When I was a very small child, maybe nine, the Holy Spirit spoke to me and said I was to never imbibe. 

If you know the Bible, God has told others this very same thing, for whatever reason. Of course, when I was a child, I didn't know about other folks being told this, but I did agree with God I would not drink.

Now, I still don't know why He told me. Maybe it's none of my business.

Anywho, what that means is that if I drank, it would be a personal sin against God.

But drinking is not a universal sin (like torturing people, or something). 

The only the thing the Bible says about drinking other than people did it, was not to be a drunk. To get drunk is a sin. I think excess of anything is a sin. 

Gluttony is a sin too, big boy.

Anyway, I don't care if you drink alcohol. That's your business, not mine. I don't care if you have a glass of wine while I'm having my tea. 

So, raise a glass and let's toast this great adventure called life.

Cheers!

Desiring That Which is Hard to Obtain

We  have recently put up a little wire box that holds suet for woodpeckers and other little birds. They love it. It hangs on the very end of a rather tiny branch of a dogwood tree, right outside the bay window of the kitchen, so we can watch the birds.

There are plenty of seeds of all variety on the ground, on rocks, on feeders for anyone and everyone. We regularly give scraps of leftover pizza, french fries (doesn't my daughter eat healthy?), bread, etc. for the crows.

Ah, but one crow, the size of a chicken, has decided he wants the suet.

There's nowhere for him to perch. So he stands on the ground, directly underneath the branch, takes a deep breath and jumps upside down, trying to attach his claws onto the bottom of the feeder.

This actually works about every fifth or sixth time he attempts. Then he is able to get a very small, very quick nibble of the suet before he has to release his upside down self and flutter back to the ground.

Crows are extremely bright, and I guess he sees this as a challenge.

But it is also something very hard for him to obtain.

Like the cows and horses who stretch their necks plumb out of place trying to eat that grass just beyond them on the other side of the fence, which is the very same grass they could nibble on with ease, right there at their feet.

There is the child who wants the very thing the parent can't find for Christmas.

There is the collector who wants only what is very difficult to find. They are usually willing to pay too  much, travel too much, and spend way too much time seeking whatever it is they are collecting.

There's the woman (or man) who doesn't want the person who is interested in dating them, they want the person they can't have.

Especially, for some, if that person is married to someone else, or a man of the cloth.

This crazy desire to obtain the difficult speaks for all of us on some level, doesn't it?

We want what we can't have, or at least what would be difficult to obtain.

That is why no matter how much money some people make, they have to spend just a little bit more than that.

We sometimes do outlandish things to search for peace of mind, when it is right there at our fingertips, waiting to be opened and read.

It's where all the simple and also the most complicated questions are answered.

But people will do absolutely anything else but that...

What desire is in your life right now? Something that will be difficult to obtain, or maybe impossible to have in the end?

And why is it there?

Maybe we are all desiring the very thing that we didn't even need in the first place.

Or maybe it was right there, within easy reach, all the time.

Just like the horses, we think that grass is greener on the other side.

Lord, may we stop being such fools.

Amen.

There's Nothing More We Can Do

Reckon how many thousands of people have been told by their doctor, "There's nothing more we can do."?

I was told that yesterday. Not that I'm dying (well, anymore than usual). But that I am "stuck" where I am with the disability I have unless some new breakthrough comes down the pike. And he didn't seem too hopeful of that.

He'd had a bad day anyway, he said. He said I'd better be glad all the windows in the building were the kind that couldn't be opened, and I told him to go no further because I was a mental health professional and I knew there were other doctors in the building and we could take care of that. Then he laughed and said he'd always been misunderstood.

He's that kind of guy, I really like him. He's funny, down to earth. He made fun of my shoes. (Don't worry, everyone who sees my shoes makes fun of them).

He's also touted as one of the best in the field, and when one has something wrong with them, that's who you want to be treating you, of course.

And I'm grateful that "There's nothing more we can do" said to me isn't referring to a terminal illness. It's referring to a chronic condition.

I don't often get all weepy about it, I try not to dwell on the shape my shape is in because self-pity is very destructive. But I did, a little bit, with him.

And he was truly sad. He was truly sorry.

So am I, doc. So am I.

People Watching

If you want to be really entertained, eat in a downtown restaurant.

Cute kids from babies to seven year olds, are always a joy to watch.

There's the family with two daughters, one about eight, the other probably fourteen or so. The family is dressed appropriately, they have good conversation. Well, except for the teenager. She is sullen and when they leave her shorts are....well, barely there. I think, "Do you parents not have eyes?" These are not short-shorts. These are without legs of any kind. You don't have anything to leave to your imagination, because, baby it is all hanging out.

Then there is the man who looks rather grubby. And one of his arms is tattooed all over (no color of skin left) except his elbow. Which is the  mouth of the shark that covers the rest of  him.

And his tee shirt reads "Spank Me"

You can't make this stuff up.

I see the  young woman who I suppose is a working mom. It looks as though she is meeting her Mother and small daughter for lunch. She is dressed in a nice dress and heels. Make up is done conservatively.

But honey, let me tell you! She has some BIG hair going on. Remember the eighties? Ain't got nothing on her. And I doubt she was born then.

I see an elderly woman walk down the sidewalk in hot pink. Her tee-shirt and cap match. She is carrying a small dog and a newspaper. It's about all she can do, and I wonder why in the world the dog is being carried. He has a halter and leash on.

There's a group of people who are taking pictures of the buildings, posing in front of them. Obviously, they ain't from around here.

There is a man sitting alone at a table, absently eating his lunch while he scribbles on some kind of electronic pad. He smiles and speaks, and he does look familiar...but I never figure it out.

I see a woman across the way with her husband and grand baby. She used to work for me, years ago. But the place is so crowded I don't make the effort. But I see a church friend at the tables outside, and we do speak.

It's pleasant. The waitresses all know us because we are regulars, and they even know what we are going to order. That's fun. Makes one feel like a celebrity!

I talk to a few people I know and sometimes when I'm there I talk to people I don't know, for whatever reasons a conversation is struck.

It was nice - nice to see downtown so busy, nice to see a slice of America without hearing about politics, nice to be with my daughter and enjoy really good food.

It was a good people watching day.

No One Can Talk to a Horse, of Course, That is of Course, Unless the Horse is the Famous Mr. Ed!

The other day I shared with you the wonderful experience of watching all the deer at play.

It got me to thinking about animals in general, how they are now, and how they must have been before the fall of mankind.

The relationship must have been vastly different. As any of you with pets can attest, they seem to have more of who they are trapped inside them.

Apparently the first animal that was killed was done by God Himself when He did so to cover Adam and Eve after they sinned.

Symbolism of what was to come, that blood sacrifice was the first of many until Christ Himself became the final one.

And it appears that we did not eat animals, nor they each other, until after the flood.

Best I can tell, the only killing of animals before then was for sacrifice. And maybe they continued to kill them for covering, I don’t know.

But it seems Noah certainly had a way with animals, and the animals seemed to hold no animosity toward each other.

And it is after the flood that God tells man he can eat animals. (Genesis 9:3) It’s as though over the years, the bond became weaker and weaker.

I know things will be quite different on the New Earth and in the New Heaven. I am excited to see what kind of relationship we will have with our four legged friends.

We know it will be peaceable. They will be peaceable toward one another. The Bible tells us as much.  The wolf and the lamb will feed together, the lion will eat straw like an ox, they will neither harm nor destroy…the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together.

Will they talk? I want them to! After all, the Bible says that God opened Balaam’s donkey’s mouth, allowing her to speak her feelings. She saw things in the spiritual realm the man could not.

What would you do if your ass spoke to you?

Balaam didn't seem to be the least surprised that his spoke to him.

 There are living creatures who never stop praising God right this very minute. The original word for them is ‘zoon’ which is usually translated in other Biblical scripture as the word animal. But because it sounds so strange to say animals are praising God 24/7, most translators of the Bible settled for the word creatures.

Anyway, I am guessing we will all be vegetarians in Heaven. But I am also guessing it will be food delicious beyond our wildest imaginations.

And to think: Me, the biggest lover of a T-bone steak, won’t even mind.

In fact, I’m looking forward to it.

How God Works Stuff

Several years ago the best thing I had going was my  job. I was well liked by staff, the community and clients. I had high ratings on my job performances and got good raises.

One day a new supervisor was hired. The first day he came 'over the mountain' to introduce himself, he didn't start out with "Hi, I'm blah blah, you're new supervisor. I've reviewed your job performances and can't wait to work with you."

Instead he said, "You aren't the person I want in this position. I want a person with a Master's Degree and I'm upgrading the position so you won't qualify. Start looking for another job."

I wasn't frightened, I was furious. I leaned over my desk and got right in his face and told him  more than a thing or two. I knew I had some protection from the Merit System.

I showed him the way out and got busy. First of all, I applied for that lofty position he was upgrading my job to. Figured it couldn't hurt. Then I talked to personnel in Atlanta, who said I did indeed have some protection, and although he could 'let me go' on grounds of my not qualifying, I could fight it and most likely the center would have to find a job for me.

Then, because I had over one hundred clients, I started telling them I might not be there much longer. One gentleman, whom I had been seeing weekly, took umbrage at this. He just happened to have a nephew who knew somebody who knew somebody in the governor's office. Who made a little call voicing their concern that a good employee would be treated in such a manner.

Making someone sweat is always good.

A week or so later I heard back from the Merit System and I had qualified for that lofty position! The look on my new supervisor's face was worth about a bazillion dollars. This, of course, made his stand of 'getting rid of me' much  more shaky, as now he had no real reason to do so.

Did I mention that he never came into my office alone again, after that first meeting? I think this good ole Appalachian woman scared the crap outta him. yay!

Anyway, to make this story a little bit shorter, the center wound up offering me a raise with a position of running an entire program and an opportunity to grow in my career, which I otherwise would have never had.

I took the job and wound up, for the last several years of my career, directing two county mental health centers.

And that supervisor I so told off? Well, he wound up in prison for child molestation. Ahhhh....

But none of this is my point. (What?? you say?).

This is my point. God's Hand was in every bit of this. My personal life was in terrible shape. My first marriage had been a sham for some time. I was never physically abused, but I was treated poorly, and let's just say I had a Biblical reason for divorce.

And I loved my new job. It made divorce easier.

I also got to know several good friends. And I  married one of them later.

He is my best friend. We've been married twenty-eight years. It's fun. It's a good run.

Husband is sixty-four today. He loves me, he takes care of me, we enjoy each other so much. Life is good.

See? God knew.

God always knows what He's doing.

So, to celebrate the happy ending to my bad spell in life, I say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUSBAND!  YOU ARE THE BEST!

circa 1985

Dancing Deer at Dusk

At dusk today, I saw something I’d never seen before.

It amazes me, that after fifty-nine years, ninety days, seven hours and some change, I can still see things I’ve never seen before, without going to some exotic location.

Daughter and I were coming home around 7:45. We slowed down as we approached a field, because deer oftentimes jump off the bank in front of cars and run into the field, especially at this time of day.

“Wow! Look at all of them!” One of us exclaimed.

We tried to count how many does were in the field, but it was impossible. Maybe twelve, maybe twenty, maybe more.

We stopped the car and watched them.

Some of them froze, as deer do, sensing, we thought, our presence. But a whole bunch of them took off at full speed. We assumed, once again, it was because of us. 

But up field, the whole heard made a u-turn and headed back our way. As they got close to the standing deer, they suddenly dispersed, and running full tilt, each one of them “took on” an immobile deer. They bumped the other deer's rear flank with their shoulder. Then the unmoving deer would turn suddenly and they would both leap up on their hind legs, parry, dancing around one another. Then the pair would take off, tagging another pair, and so on, until they had a large group, who would tear off up field again, leaving a certain number frozen in place. The herd would do another beautiful u-turn, head back toward us, and the dance would begin again.

It dawned on us they were simply playing. They were having a delightful time. I expected a soccer ball to appear at any moment. Or one of them cry out, "Tag! You're it!"

This game went on over and over as we watched. They were still at it when we drove away.

Oh, I know you can say they were doing this in order to learn how to survive, like kittens who attack one another in play or ‘kill’ their stuffed toys. Maybe so. 

Probably so.

But let me tell you, they were having a blast while they did whatever dance you want to call it.

Man, you could feel it. You could feel it.

You could feel the joy.

It Who Shall Not Be Named

I haven't blogged in a few days, because I have been extremely busy.

What with all the writhing, moaning, gasping, pleading for relief, and generalized whining, who had time to blog?

Why all this carrying on, you ask?

You know, the word kidney has nice connotations. We love our kidneys, some people even give other people one of theirs.

There are kidney beans, we like our pools to have a kidney shape. There's kidney pie (eww. These people eat blood pudding, too, and I wouldn't want to eat either one).

The word stone is okay too. David slew a giant with a smooth, round stone. There's stone soup. (yummy). We have stone walkways, stone chimneys, we tell folks a place is just a stone's throw away.  We listen to the Rolling Stones. And they gather no moss. Some people collect stones.

But when you put the word kidney and the word stone together, that's quite a different story.

When one has a kidney stone and it is moving in one's body, it is akin to trying to deliver a very angry porcupine. Once delivered, they resemble a hard little rock with spikes all over it's surface.

The first one I had (and I shall not call them by their name), was many years ago. I was amazed at how I was suddenly all consumed. It passed in a few hours, and no damage seemed to be done.

I was in town a few days later when a man approached me. I've known him all my life, he is probably twelve to fifteen years older than I. We speak when we see each other, but have never held a conversation.

But this time he came right up to me and said, "I understand you are one of us now."

I quickly scanned my brain to see what I had joined via work. Nada. So I looked at him, smiled, and, as is my very chatty way, politely said, "Huh?"

He'd heard about  my you-know (do we live in a small town, or what?), and said once you were a member of this particular club, it was a lifetime membership.

I was extremely alarmed. I said, "I don't want to be in your club! I never want to experience that again!"

He smiled serenely, patted my shoulder and walked away.

I decided then and there I would avoid anyone I knew who had been afflicted.

A year later I had another one. It was bigger. It took longer to pass. I had the unfortunate addition of it hitting me while I was at my Mother's, who became fairly  hysterical as my groaning, writhing, pacing, etc., escalated. She begged me to go to the emergency room. I tried to patiently scream at her that I could not ride in a car, I might  jump out, and I would kill someone in the emergency room if not treated wtih respect and speed.

But my sister-in-law showed up and insisted I go. When I walked through the ER doors, a nurse looked up and hollered, "Kidney stone!" and took me right back.

She told me on the way to a room that she'd had five kids and one kidney stone and would rather have five more children than one more of the other. They gave me pain medication, put some fluid in me, and I passed it.

I vowed to never even say the two words aloud again. EVER. And if anyone even said the word kidney, I left the room, just in case.

A year later I had another one. This was the big one, Elizabeth. The other two had been child's play. I called the urologist (yes, I had one by then), and he said if I didn't pass it in so many hours, to come in.

Well, I passed it. It was so big it plinked in the water, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

I was passing blood the next morning, so I journeyed on to the doctor. Massive infection, massive tearing.

At that point, I decided that anytime I sensed the club was having a meeting about something or other, I would sit in the back, be as quiet as a doormouse, fade into the furniture, a wall flower. ANYTHING not to be  noticed. And for safety's sake, I'd keep my hands over my ears.

And a dozen years or more passed. And that was all that passed.

Until Tuesday. And, of course, you know the rest of the story.

It's gone now.

But I fear I have been elected an officer at a meeting I didn't attend.

What Did Jesus Look Like?

I’m oftentimes puzzled when I hear someone say, “We don’t know what Jesus looked like.”

I want to say to them, “But I do know what He looked like! I can tell you right now!”

His eyes were large, and dark with expression. They crinkled at the corners when He smiled or laughed, which He did often. They darkened even more and welled with tears easily as He was filled with compassion for others. When you looked Him straight in the eye, you saw a peace so deep it was eternal.

You never saw His ears much, unless the breeze lifted His hair a little, but they were always “on”, always listening. They were attuned to everything and everyone around Him. He never misunderstood a single word or insinuation. He heard clearly, all the time.

His mouth was tender, yet determined, filled with good words and wisdom far beyond His years. The voice was clear, and when He spoke, His message was heard by the thousands who sat at His feet to listen. His ready smile lit up a room. People were drawn from a distance when they heard the laughter that came out of that mouth.

His shoulders were broad and strong. How could they not have been, when the world cried upon them and He held us upon them to comfort us? How could they not have been, carrying all my burdens and His cross?

His hands were big and expressive. They were rough from hard work, but their touch was as soft and gentle as a whisper in the night. Whether they were raised in praise to His Father or used to bless and cradle the head of a sleeping babe, they were tenderly filled with mercy. And when they were used to clean out the temple, the fist they made was fearsome and mighty.

His feet were always firmly planted on whatever ground they stood upon. They never were unsure or stepped where they did not belong.

And His heart? It is the biggest heart that has ever been. And for those who listen with their hearts, well, they can hear its beat and join its life and let it become their own.

So they can see how Jesus saw, and hear how Jesus heard, and say what Jesus said, and handle situations like Jesus handled them, and stand firmly like Jesus stood.

Then everyone will always know what Jesus looked like. 

April First, the Day of Fools

If my daddy was still alive, (he died at age fifty-nine, the age I am now) he and my mother would have been married sixty some odd years today. I think it's sixty-two, but don't hold me to it.

Of course, that immediately begs the question: "Why the heck would anybody get married on  April Fool's Day?"

I've asked that question, of course.

"We just wanted to get married on the first Sunday of April and never thought about it."

Family.

They were already in their twenties. Mother is an only child and Daddy was the baby and the only boy, so they were both, shall we say, a little spoiled?

They got married in secret and both went home to their respective parents.

Did I mention they were in their twenties?

I think Mother finally got up the nerve to tell when she had a best friend spending the night with her.

Did I mention she was in her twenties?

My mother's father disliked my daddy. Intensely. Which, my mother openly admits, is one of the reasons she  married him.

Did I mention they were in their - oh, never mind.

Daddy was a rascal. He was rebellious. He got kicked out of high school, went to Young Harris College where he got kicked out again, for fighting.

He smoked, he drank, he gambled.

He was mischievous and funny and couldn't hold onto a dollar if  his life depended on it.

My mother, because of that, became a secretive money  hoarder. I mean, it wasn't, like, stacked up to the ceiling with only a little walk way to get through the house. I mean, she'd look you right in the eye and say, "I don't have a penny," when you knew good and well she had a few hundred stashed in her wallet.

She still does that, sorta. Yet she is very generous too.

Back to their early years: Both sets of parents 'helped' them make it in this old world. Which was beneficial to me, who was the only grandchild on my mother's side and the only one in town on my daddy's side. I got lots of fierce love and was as happy at one's house as I was the other.

Their  marriage was tumultuous at times, and as I grew older, I hated some of the things my daddy did, embarrassing me a lot. There were times I wanted my mother to divorce my daddy.

Then he mellowed, she mellowed, and they spent the last several years really enjoying each other, I think.

He had to go and get sick. And who wouldn't, the way he abused his body for so long?

So he 'up and died' at age fifty-nine.

He never saw his two granddaughters. He left his grandson, whom he adored, a three year old with only vague memories of him.

The price we pay for a misspent youth, as they say.

I still miss him, of course. And mother still talks about him. I guess she wonders what it would have been like to still have him by her side.

Ah, well.

He'd probably still be playing practical jokes, she'd still be broke.

But after the sun went down, they'd still have each other.

Today may be the fool's day, and I reckon we all need to recognize that. Because after all, aren't we all a fool for something - or someone - at least once in our lives?

Happy April Fool's Day.