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.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, June 23, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
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.
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.
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