Two Things At The Same Time

How can we, as humans, feel real joy and real sadness at the same time?

But we do, and often.

Right now, I have such joy: Yankee Cousin is landing on Holy Southern Land tomorrow. Her flight is in at 7:30 a.m. and she and Husband should be back from the airport in time for us to all go to church together. Mother is doing well, walking without walker or cane. A nephew is a new daddy as of yesterday, a six pound girl. 

And, I have such sadness: A dear friend of mine is in the process of saying goodbye to her daughter. She has been unwell for a long time, and is now in the last stages of life as we know it on this side. She was unresponsive as of this morning. This dear one is only in her forties. I sang at her wedding. She is their only daughter. And Dog, dear old Molly, seems to be headed for glory land, too. Oh, it may be a few more  months...but things are declining with her health, and we have loved her and she has loved us mightily for nine years. We had hoped for longer.

 I am not comparing our sorrow of the loss of a pet with the sorrow of losing a child. Lord knows, I don't even want to ever know that sorrow.

I thank my Heavenly Father that my peace is not connected to either my joy or my sadness. It is the only constant I have.

Throwing a Fit Over a Fig Tree

We are studying some of the book of Mark on Wednesday nights in Bible Study.

This one is where Jesus is hungry.  He goes over to a fully leafed fig tree, but it has no figs. So he curses it and says it will never give fruit to anyone again.

Then Mark switches over to Jesus and the gang arriving at the temple and Jesus opening up a can of you-know-what on everyone. He turns over tables, uses a whip, and money and freed animals are going every which way and he lets them know His Father's Temple has been turned into a den of thieves.

The passage ends when they come back by the fig tree as they leave, and the tree is withered from the roots up.

This has always flummoxed me.

Was Jesus just in a bad mood that day?

The disciples are all excited about the tree (and the temple stuff, too, I imagine, although Mark doesn't say).

Jesus talks about faith and prayer.

I didn't really get that answer, either.

By now I'm feeling like Peter.

So, I'm sitting on my back porch after reading this and ask God to let me know what the heck this means.

The first thing that comes to me is this: The fig tree was in full leaf, out of season. It was way ahead of all the other trees in the way it looked, but it was bearing no fruit whatsoever.

Have you ever seen a church member like that? They talk the talk, but walk the walk doesn't happen.

The Bible says elsewhere (in Matthew) that we will know Christians by the fruits they bear. It says a good tree can't bear bad fruit and a bad tree can't bear good fruit. In other words, how a Christian lives and what he does for the Kingdom and glory of God shows his relationship (or lack thereof) with Jesus.

If we, as Christians, are known by our fruit, what symbolism that fig tree was! All dressed up and lookin' pretty, but not a fruit in sight.

No wonder Jesus cursed it.

So, thank you Lord for explaining that to me. I don't know if that's what you'll get when you read it, and that's okay.  This may have been meant just for me.

And the temple fit pitching?

That was Jesus just being Jesus.

Tomorrow Is The Big Day

Tomorrow Mother goes back to the surgeon to strut her stuff.

She is walking a lot without the walker, and even walked to the mailbox this morning, using her cane.

She's called for them to come get the hospital bed, she's taken the potty chair thing off the commode (Thank goodness, that thing pinched). The physical therapist said good-bye.

She still has some burning pain below the surgical site, which I assume is the good old sciatic nerve protesting being whacked in half.

She hasn't been in a car since she came home from the hospital, but she ain't worried about it. She was shown how to go up and down steps, so she's got that whipped.

I'm a little (okay, a lot) nervous about her staying by herself so soon, and she said the Other Brother said absolutely not!

Mother's said, let's see what the doctor says.

Actually, she is walking and moving better and with more confidence than she did before the surgery.

I suspect it isn't she who is concerned.

It's the offspring.

A Time For Play

I've done a bunch of nothing today. Other than a couple of loads of laundry, I ain't worked a'tall.

Husband says we all need a day like that. He says that because he didn't do nuthin neither.

Actually, I did do a lot of stuff - visited with Brother of Many Surgeries who graciously came to my house this morning to drive my car and tell me what the heck that  noise is.

I had lunch with a friend who has been my friend, like, forever.

I read. I played Scrabble. I ate. I took a ten minute nap. I got some happy news.

I read a beautiful post by Daughter who reminiscenced about this being the fourteenth anniversary of her salvation.

It just don't get any better than that.

I reckon I'll finish the day the way I started out - lazy, fun, simple.

I'll make up for it tomorrow.

Lawd Have Mercy, It's Hot!

As all ya'll know, I am a southern girl, born and bred, as they say.

And speaking of ya'll, I am simply appalled, appalled I say, at the sudden new way to spell ya'll. Suddenly the correct way to spell this word, which isn't even really a word, is  y'all.  Sacrilege!

I noticed when reading a fairly well known person's tweet the other day, they, too had caved. He is a true southerner, and has always spelled ya'll correctly. Now, all of a sudden, he's spelling it y'all.

I digress.

So, I am really, truly southern.

But I dislike the humid, hot days that usually start around mid-July and stop around the end of August.

Last Sunday I opened my door at 9:30 a.m. to go to church like a good girl, and it was both humid and hot.

What's this! I asked to no one. It's only mid-June, not mid-July! And immediately commenced to whine. It's not fair I have been gypped out of a whole month of simply hot but bearable weather.

And every ding dang day since, all I have to do is think about going outside and it grows dark and ominous and begins to thunder.

What, I'm supposed to become a recluse now? But I know lightning is right behind the thunder and I know what lightning does, so recluse it is.

My Yankee Cousin arrives Sunday for a week of fun, food, escapades, food, talk, food and who knows what else.

I just hope it ain't so humid and so hot that some of our fun will be wilted into just being lazy and staying inside to talk and eat.

Wouldn't that be a shame?  HA.

Ya'll just check the weather report for me and let me know if there's gonna be any coolin' of the temperatures for a while.

And maybe stoppage of thunder and such.

Just for a little while, that's all I ask for.

On The First Day Of Summer My True Love Said To Me

1.Ain't it hottern usual?

2.Ah'm sweatin' like a sinner at revival!

3.Is the air tore up, or are you tryin' to be frugal again?

4.It's hottern  H. E. L.-okay, okay, I won't say it, but you know how hot it is.

5.I'm growin gills it's so humid.

6.It's so hot yore granny took off one of her sweaters.

7.I thought pigs didn't sweat and your cousin Jethrine is sweatin and she's a pig.

8.I'm movin' to Canada.

9.Don't leave the car winders up or it'll explode the windshield.

10.I don't know if the maters are gonna make it or not. They's wiltin purdy bad.

11.Ever time I git in that dang car, I stick to the seats so bad they have to peel me off when I get thar.

12.I reckon we could bile the aiggs in the fish pond and not turn on the stove, it's too hot to do that.

And for a baker's dozen:

13.This heat is makin you illern a sore tailed cat.

Looks Ain't Everthang

This morning I got up looking a bit like Einstein.

No, not a mustache. Old lady jokes are not funny. I shave every morning. Now, see, that didn't make you laugh, did it? Okay, well, maybe the Brother of Many Surgeries laughed, but he don't count no how.

No, not the brilliant, bulging forehead. Mine is quite normal.

No, not the faraway look in the eye showing magnificent and non-understanding by anyone but me thoughts going on in my head.(Although I have plenty of thoughts nobody understands, but it ain't because they are brilliant.)

It's my hair.

You see, I washed it yesterday afternoon and did nothing to it.

No curling iron, no nothing.

The results are stunning. As in,  "Lord have mercy, woman, what have you done?"

Makes people pay attention.

I guess the humidity did something, too. It did not stay in the cute little ringlet curls, but truly turned into a frizz festival that scared even the cats.

I think they thought I had an animal on my head.

The only non-reactions I got were from Daughter, who was, of course, busy. Like, you know, texting, and couldn't look up. My hair could have been on fire and she wouldn't have noticed until I started to scream. Then, she would have held up a hand in a 'just a moment' gesture before looking up.

The other non-reaction was from Molly, a.k.a., Dog. Dogs love you unconditionally. She did eye my head though, and I could tell she was wishing I'd bend down a little so she could lick a hair or two into place. But she didn't make snide comments or cringe in horror.

Dogs. (Wo)man's best friend.

Yep. Good old Molly.

But that wasn't quite good  enough, so I got busy and fixed my hair.

Nobody noticed.

Biscuits: 100 Me: A Big Fat Zero

That's right. I'm gettin' my rear end beat by biscuits.

I'm beginning to believe I ticked off a Biscuit Fairy in my cocky youth, when I believed if I tried, I could cook anything.

Lord help me.

I swan, I have tried everything since the last time I whined about this.

 I've gone by every recipe I can find. I've ignored recipes.

I've measured, I've not  measured.

I thought maybe I handled the dough too much, so I handled it hardly at all.

I've used butter, I've used Crisco. I have not used lard because Husband would croak at the thought of it.

I've set the oven at 450, 475 and 500.

I've used different brands of flour.

I've used different brands and degrees of fat in buttermilk.

I give up.

My biscuits taste good. They even look pretty good.

But try and slice 'em open to put butter and jelly in them, and you wind up with three pieces of bread in  your hand. They simply crumble.

I know, I know.

You can tell me what I'm doing wrong. You probably already  have.

But go ahead.

Tell me again.

I can hardly wait.

Life is a Puzzlement

I  never really set out to ever offend anyone. It's just not in my nature to do so.

But this post may offend some of you. Just know if it does, that's not what I set out to do.

I have never known a time when I was without the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Before this offends everybody I've ever known and many I haven't, let me explain.

As far back into childhood I can remember, I always felt God's presence. I was comforted by Him and felt protected by Him. I even had a vision when I was very small, probably age four or five.

When I was ten, I  heard His Voice for the first time. I was in the pew of the church. A message had been given (I don't remember what) and the music was playing, inviting anyone who felt God's nudge to come forward.

I'm not sure I was really even paying much attention. I was a kid and by the end of a service my thoughts were usually elsewhere.

But when that Voice said, "It's time to tell everyone You have me in  your heart." I didn't hesitate. I went straight up the isle and said as much.

I've been talking to God, or His Holy Spirit, ever since, and He has been talking to me.

I am amazed and humbled by this relationship.

And I am completely baffled when folks don't believe.

He is as real to me as you are. Well, more so than a lot of you, since 45 countries have read my blog. (Thank you, by the way.)

Many people are now offended by the  Christian belief, in fact it's becoming the "in" thing, I believe.

Be tolerant unless it's "them"!

Ah, well, we shouldn't be surprised. The Bible says that's the way it will be.  It's just folks in the United States have been so softened and spoiled by our freedom, we've forgotten it isn't the norm.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know why I believe.

Maybe I didn't do a very good job of it, but there you are.

Anything good you see in me is from Him. The rest, unfortunately, is me. I am not perfect at this, only my relationship with Him is perfect.

Me, on the other hand, needs a lot of work.

A lot of work.

So, don't look to Jesus Christ's followers for a good example. Look at Him instead.

You'll get a much better picture.

Father's Day!

For the first five years of our marriage, Husband was, well, Husband.

About five years later, he became Daddy.

Since then, his duties have been divided among his "girls".

Daughter, of course, has him wrapped around her little finger, where he's been since day one.

We are often a threesome - instead of us and the kids, it's just us.

I think when you have only one child, there is a deeper intimacy there between the parents and the child. I know there are pros to siblings, of course.

But we have what we have.

And on this Father's Day, I congratulate Husband on a job well done.

When the Rain Comes

Man oh man oh man oh man! Has it been raining or what?

I almost drowned three times this week, all three trying to get to my car.

Electricity went out for almost four hours the other evening, but for us, that's par for the course. Still don't like it, though.

Seriously, my all overs are hurting a lot worse than usual, and I think I shall blame it on the rain.

I will say one thing, though. Everything smells so dang good!

I just go out on the porch and breathe. And as soon as it stops raining, the birds start chattering like crazy, like they have to catch up or something.

Nothing is attempting to eat our garden. No bugs, no nothing. Maybe they drowned, too.

Did you know the preacher that performed the marriage ceremony for my parents was named Rainwater? No monkey, it's true.

I wonder if he was part Cherokee.

The Loch Ness Monster is also called a water horse (be sure and see the movie,"The Water Horse",  it's wonderful scenery of Ireland).

If they caught her they could ride her and put rains around her neck. Get it? Water horse, rains?

You may have caught on by now I couldn't think of anything to blog about today.

So, I'll 'rain' myself in and leave it with ya.

In Sickness and in Health

I know  this is part of the marriage vows, but I think it should be true in families, too.

As ya'll know, I'm a dang cripple. Plus I've had some other things going on that don't seem to get much better these past few weeks.

Daughter has been ill since November, and hopefully we are at the tail end of that little mess come next week, when test results are back.

May I say I do not like having to wait while my child is having a procedure during which she is sedated.

Of course, the saga of Mother continues...but she ain't doing nothing about that, so there ya go.

Brother of Many Surgeries finally got the drain removed from his side.

It seems of late, we  have had our share of medical issues. I'm fine if our turn is over for a while. Really, I am.

But our good outweighs the bad, and I couldn't name all of the good if I had all day.

So, my prayers are full of thankfulness: Thank you God for  my family. Thank you for this good mattress and warm covers at the end of the day to ease my pain.  For that matter, thank you Lord for the medication  you have provided that allows me to get up and go at all. Thank you for my friends, my home, my church family. Thank you for our country, that (so far) is a place we can freely worship (or not).

Praise  You God for being You. I don't know much about You in the bigger sense. But what I do know fills me with praise, fear, joy and peace.

You have called me friend.

Wow.

Guess I don't have much to whine about after all, do I?

The Customer Is Always Right

Yeah, right.

At least I think that's what our waitress and certainly the "chef" (which was probably an eighteen year old fresh out of high school having a high old time) was thinking.

As you know, Daughter had a recent birthday. Since I had to back out of our traditional restaurant trip due to b.a.c.k. problems, we told her to pick a local place and we'd go to the favorite place this next weekend.

She did, and off we went. She was excited as everything was hers for the asking on the menu. (We are usually more frugal: water only, etc.)

She ordered a dip that she loves, among other things.

When the waitress brought all our food, it was indeed lovely.

Then Daughter tasted the dip. "Will you take a bite and see if it tastes a bit off to you?" she asked.

So I took a piece of hot crusty bread and did so. Errr....I asked Husband to taste it, too

"Tastes like spoiled milk."

Yep.

I finally caught the waitress's eye and told her I thought the cream or milk was spoiled in the dip. She made an ugly face, picked up the dip and walked off.

In a minute she came back. "The chef says he made it fresh from scratch and all the ingredients are in date."

"I'm not accusing him of using out of date products," I said calmly. "However; he needs to taste the dip or smell the cream or milk. Something is spoiled. He needs to check it out."

She asked Daughter if she wanted something else, and Daughter declined, saying the rest of her food was enough. She had a wonderful soup and bread, plus some steamed vegetables.

Husband's food was good, mine was good.

But where is the manager coming over to apologize? Where is the smiling waitress offering free dessert for our trouble? Where are manners? What happened to treating the customer like you wanted them to come back again?

I hope the chef smelled the milk and gagged. Better yet, I hope he took a big old swig of it.

There has to be justice somewhere.

Another Year Flies By

Today is Daughter's twenty-fourth birthday.

Wow.

She has received texts, facebook wishes, cards, a letter (from me), and a visitor already.

She must be pretty special, huh.

She was a beautiful baby on her first birthday celebration at age one:

and doesn't look too shabby now:

Happy birthday to my one and only chick.

I love you more than life itself.

Your Momma

Farmer Hill

Ah, the garden spot.

An even dozen tomatoes on the vine. More, please.

The beans are growing up the poles that Husband stuck last week. The vines curl like a skinny green snake, eager to reach the sky.

Onions are almost ready for the pickin'.  I love me some onions.

Butter beans ain't doin' so bad, either.

Squash!  Yay!

Red lettuce is showing up  nicely, too.

My favorite, potatoes, are peeking out.

We've spent enough money on this garden to keep us in groceries via the Piggly Wiggly for six months.

But I ask you: would it taste as good?

Nope. Not by a long shot.

Now, if I can just convince Husband to get out there and weed.

He will, he says.

Tomorrow.

From One Generation to the Next

I was lying in bed last night, thinking deeply about - something or other.

That's not the point, anyway. The point is, I shrugged my shoulder and made a particular face, indicating sort of disgust and apathy.

But when I did this, in my mind's eye, I saw my mother doing it, not me.

Hmmmm.  Well, at least I know where that gesture came from.

As I began to think about this, I could also see my grandmother performing this little movement. Made me wonder if her mother did the same thing.

Tilting my head, thinking about this: yep. Daughter does the very same thing!

You know what that means, don't you?

Someday I'm gonna have a little grand youngun strollin' around and thinking deeply.

And out of the blue, she'll shrug her shoulder and get that look on her face...

Life goes on, doesn't it?

Humans

Humans are a strange bunch, all in all.

I went to Lowe's today with Husband to pick up a couple of things, simply to get out of the  house and not be heading toward the doctor's or a hospital. We were only gone a little while; it was a nice break.

When we went into the garden section (which I can never resist) I could hear a rather loud voice. It was female and Asian. I couldn't hear what she was saying, just that lilt that told me English was not her first language.

When we finally moseyed over to check out, she was the check out person. The first thing she said to us, in her sweet little accent was, "How ya'll doin' today?"

Obviously, she's been here a while. It was hard to keep a straight face, though. But I managed.

Friend and I were on the phone later on this afternoon. We mulled over the mystery of mankind and pretty much figured out if we could rule, we'd do better.

She'd gotten a REFUND from our local hospital, saying they'd charged her too much. I was stunned, even if it was only fourteen dollars. "Where you gonna spend it?" I asked reverently.

"I ain't. I figure next week I'll get a bill telling me I owe it to 'em."

I said, "With interest."

Her property taxes have gone up, mine went down. That didn't make her happy, even though she's my "friend".

I explained it had nothing to do with  my house. I figured the houses around me weren't selling and it made the value of mine go down. Which is fine with me, since I ain't sellin' and druther pay lower taxes.

"Well," she huffed, "How can mine go up when there isn't anything but trailers and poor people all around me?"

"See," I explained, "They make you look good. That's why your taxes went up."

Laugh or cry, you gotta do one or the tuther.

We chose laughter.

A Busy, Busy Day

What a day. It's been a really long week.

Yes, I  know it's Monday.  Your point?

I don't  know why I think I can resume some aspect of "normal" and get a few things done at the house. I must be a fool.

Shut up.

Mother is progressing nicely and I am grateful for that.

But her care giver's leg started hurting the other day. She called a doctor, whose nurse called back and said it might be a blood clot, so she should go to the emergency room.

Well, well.

So, Daughter rearranged her plans, as did I. Brother of Many Surgeries was already there and assured me they would be fine until one of us could get there.

Then their electricity went off and Mother was sort of stuck in her recliner, reclined.

With a "I gotta go now" kind of bladder, that's a dangerous place to be.

So Brother Of found batteries and got her moving again. The chair and her bladder.

Meanwhile, I received an, um, interesting phone call from my ex-husband. Hadn't heard from him in oh, a quarter of a century or so.

That got my blood pressure raring to go. Up.

My house is in disarray. The flowers were drooping, there were no clean towels, both sides of the kitchen sink were full of dirty dishes, and both dishwasher drawers were full of clean dishes.  It seems every time Daughter or I come home from Mother's we collapse in a stupor and get nothing done.

 Husband doesn't do all the above because he "is pet sitting and Molly might have a seizure." That's exactly what he said, I lie you not.

Of course, he went to the grocery store and emptied the trash after only being reminded three or four times. Now to get him to the dump before the bears rip in to it all.

He has been a prince coming and going and staying regarding Mother's hospitalization. He loves her a lot; they have a cornbread kind of love.

Right now things are calm and I'm kinda hungry.

I reckon I better take advantage of the calm and feed myself.

Later, dude.