For once I think I could put a Twitter account to good use.
Shortly after starting my last post, R. and I heard an awful racket (that's Southern for loud noise only louder and noisier) outside followed by some long mournful cries.
We both hurried out the front door and peered intently into the dark woods before our house. Suddenly our trusty old Chocolate Lab - Tanner, bolted around the house displaying an aggression we had never seen in him before. He barked menacingly toward the woods but would not actually venture into the woods (which is more to his nature).
The cries continued, and we determined that it was a cat. We soon saw the thing perched over head in a tree. I fetched a flashlight and beamed it on the cat... "I'm not sure that's our cat" I said.
R. took a closer look - and her tone immediately reverted to that syrupy-baby talk that they use with cat (improvise your own favorite goofy pet talk here) "yeah, that's my baby...come on down little sweetie" she said.
I later learned that she did not have on her glasses or contacts. Because the cat we coaxed down was a big fluffy cat and wasn't our Angel. I think she may have had red glowing eyes.
We really weren't sure of the mistaken identity until she completely dismounted off the tree and stared at us momentarily like we were crazy then headed off into the woods.
Our cat -we soon learned- was in same said tree only at a higher level and clinging for dear life.
So far she has not been coaxed down. When I began this quickie-post, R. was back out their coaxing, begging, cajoling.
You can't beg a cat.
You beg a cat and they own you for the rest of your life.
I say when she gets hungry she'll come down...
....or else she'll come down when we get that nice man with the bucket truck to comes get her down.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
When You Just Don't Fit In
I finally made it out of the conundrum that is the Book of Judges!
Oh, it is a wonderful part of the scriptures - and it used to be one of my favorite books of the Bible; what with all that slaying going on with donkey bones and tent pegs and such - it was a thriller. But now it tends to depress me - I see too many familiar attitudes there.
But I made it through a few days ago. For those of you that are keeping track, when I first began reading the book of Judges it was way back in January. Some of you are already counting up the number of chapters or pages in the book and are arriving at the conclusion that my Bible reading has been pretty skimpy this year.
Well in my own defense, I must say that I am deliberately moving very slowly. And I did bog down a bit during my read.
I am happy to report that I am back on track and am into the love story that is Ruth.
That brings me to the purpose of this blog today:
Have you ever felt that you didn't fit in?
In chapter two of Ruth, there is a beautiful picture of grace displayed toward someone that felt very left out.
Ruth had lost her husband, but had stayed with her widowed mother-in-law even when she went back home to a land very strange to Ruth.
They were poor, they were destitute... Naomi, her mother-in-law quickly told all the family and friends how desperate they were... "I left this land full; now I am coming home empty - call me 'Mara' (that means bitter)."
The welfare system God had set up involved work and allowed wealthy land-owners to be blessed by giving to the poor; it also allowed the poor to maintain their dignity by working and earning the food they ate. It was true "welfare-to-work" - it was called gleaning.
When workers harvested a field, they were instructed to leave the corners unharvested, there gleaners were allowed to go and gather food for their families, they could also pick up what they harvesters dropped or left on the stalk.
Ruth showed up at the field of a kind gentleman named Boaz. When he heard she was there, he went to her ( he had already heard of her kindness toward Naomi - a relative of his). "Don't go to anyone else's field" he said, " I have instructed my workers to be kind to you and to see that you get water while you are here".
Ruth was amazed at this grace that was poured out on her:
So she fell on her face, bowed down to the ground, and said to him, “Why have I found favor in your eyes, that you should take notice of me, since I am a foreigner?” Ruth 2:10 NKJV
Again, a couple of verses later, notice her response:
Then she said, “Let me find favor in your sight, my lord; for you have comforted me, and have spoken kindly to your maidservant, though I am not like one of your maidservants.” Ruth 2:13 NKJV
Do you hear her attitude - "I am just a foreigner" and "I am not like one of your maidservants" ?
She was different - she did not fit in and she knew it. She was an outsider in the land of God's chosen people.
She felt a need to emphasize her shortcomings - to point them out. As if to say - "maybe you didn't notice, Mr. Boaz... I am not a Jew".
It is akin to the attitude that erupted in Isaiah when he encountered God in His Glory in the temple... Isaiah exclaimed, "Woe is me! for I am undone!"
Though I do not believe that Boaz is a "type" of Christ, he certainly illustrates God's grace to us when we feel so foreign to God.
He did not back away, on the contrary, he plunged in with even more kindness - inviting her to eat with the workers and making sure the Korn-Nuts were passed down to her (well it says"parched corn"). He also privately instructed his workers to drop handfuls of grain on purpose so her gleaning would be more successful.
That's Jesus - we approach Him and realize our "undone-ness" - then begin to turn away sorrowfully. Yet He just keeps pouring on His kindness and explaining all the things He wants to do for us.
Oh, it is a wonderful part of the scriptures - and it used to be one of my favorite books of the Bible; what with all that slaying going on with donkey bones and tent pegs and such - it was a thriller. But now it tends to depress me - I see too many familiar attitudes there.
But I made it through a few days ago. For those of you that are keeping track, when I first began reading the book of Judges it was way back in January. Some of you are already counting up the number of chapters or pages in the book and are arriving at the conclusion that my Bible reading has been pretty skimpy this year.
Well in my own defense, I must say that I am deliberately moving very slowly. And I did bog down a bit during my read.
I am happy to report that I am back on track and am into the love story that is Ruth.
That brings me to the purpose of this blog today:
Have you ever felt that you didn't fit in?
In chapter two of Ruth, there is a beautiful picture of grace displayed toward someone that felt very left out.
Ruth had lost her husband, but had stayed with her widowed mother-in-law even when she went back home to a land very strange to Ruth.
They were poor, they were destitute... Naomi, her mother-in-law quickly told all the family and friends how desperate they were... "I left this land full; now I am coming home empty - call me 'Mara' (that means bitter)."
The welfare system God had set up involved work and allowed wealthy land-owners to be blessed by giving to the poor; it also allowed the poor to maintain their dignity by working and earning the food they ate. It was true "welfare-to-work" - it was called gleaning.
When workers harvested a field, they were instructed to leave the corners unharvested, there gleaners were allowed to go and gather food for their families, they could also pick up what they harvesters dropped or left on the stalk.
Ruth showed up at the field of a kind gentleman named Boaz. When he heard she was there, he went to her ( he had already heard of her kindness toward Naomi - a relative of his). "Don't go to anyone else's field" he said, " I have instructed my workers to be kind to you and to see that you get water while you are here".
Ruth was amazed at this grace that was poured out on her:
So she fell on her face, bowed down to the ground, and said to him, “Why have I found favor in your eyes, that you should take notice of me, since I am a foreigner?” Ruth 2:10 NKJV
Again, a couple of verses later, notice her response:
Then she said, “Let me find favor in your sight, my lord; for you have comforted me, and have spoken kindly to your maidservant, though I am not like one of your maidservants.” Ruth 2:13 NKJV
Do you hear her attitude - "I am just a foreigner" and "I am not like one of your maidservants" ?
She was different - she did not fit in and she knew it. She was an outsider in the land of God's chosen people.
She felt a need to emphasize her shortcomings - to point them out. As if to say - "maybe you didn't notice, Mr. Boaz... I am not a Jew".
It is akin to the attitude that erupted in Isaiah when he encountered God in His Glory in the temple... Isaiah exclaimed, "Woe is me! for I am undone!"
Though I do not believe that Boaz is a "type" of Christ, he certainly illustrates God's grace to us when we feel so foreign to God.
He did not back away, on the contrary, he plunged in with even more kindness - inviting her to eat with the workers and making sure the Korn-Nuts were passed down to her (well it says"parched corn"). He also privately instructed his workers to drop handfuls of grain on purpose so her gleaning would be more successful.
That's Jesus - we approach Him and realize our "undone-ness" - then begin to turn away sorrowfully. Yet He just keeps pouring on His kindness and explaining all the things He wants to do for us.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The "To Do" List
Two or three things struck my thoughts during church this morning:
They are probably unrelated but both thoughts came in refreshing waves.
It's been a dry time.
I'll relate one of those thoughts here:
The Pastor said he was going to say something that would seem to contradict what he had said on Easter Sunday. He had told us then, that there was nothing we could do to merit our salvation - Jesus did it all.
He assured us that the fact that Jesus paid it all was still true; however this week he would tell us that there was something we had to do.
We have to die.
As I contemplated that thought, I realized that dying is still not actually doing something - it is ceasing to do.
When Jesus breathed His last breath on the cross, scripture says He "gave up the ghost"... that's an old phrase illustrating the release of one's soul at death. What stood out with me though was that in order to die - Jesus gave up.
And when he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. Mark 8:34 KJV
This kingdom of God requires that we all take up the cross... we must die - to ourselves, our fears, to our distractions, our goals, even our dreams.
Then just as Christ rose from the dead - we can rise to new life, a Resurrection Life and we can live unto HIM, and cast our cares, our fears, our distractions on Him... as we dream His dreams.
But it starts with death... and that comes - not by doing - but by giving up.
If you find yourself saying "I just can't do it anymore - I give up..."
Then you are at the place at which your adventure with HIM begins.
They are probably unrelated but both thoughts came in refreshing waves.
It's been a dry time.
I'll relate one of those thoughts here:
The Pastor said he was going to say something that would seem to contradict what he had said on Easter Sunday. He had told us then, that there was nothing we could do to merit our salvation - Jesus did it all.
He assured us that the fact that Jesus paid it all was still true; however this week he would tell us that there was something we had to do.
We have to die.
As I contemplated that thought, I realized that dying is still not actually doing something - it is ceasing to do.
When Jesus breathed His last breath on the cross, scripture says He "gave up the ghost"... that's an old phrase illustrating the release of one's soul at death. What stood out with me though was that in order to die - Jesus gave up.
And when he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. Mark 8:34 KJV
This kingdom of God requires that we all take up the cross... we must die - to ourselves, our fears, to our distractions, our goals, even our dreams.
Then just as Christ rose from the dead - we can rise to new life, a Resurrection Life and we can live unto HIM, and cast our cares, our fears, our distractions on Him... as we dream His dreams.
But it starts with death... and that comes - not by doing - but by giving up.
If you find yourself saying "I just can't do it anymore - I give up..."
Then you are at the place at which your adventure with HIM begins.
Do Not Go Out There!
I stepped out of the door at the side of our house - right into what resembled a war zone. There were bodies and parts all over the place! One could barely take a step without coming in contact with one of them.
Just at the foot of the steps, inside the garage, lay a torso... another slumped in the corner ... yet another lay baking eerily in the April sun.
The horrific scene was enough to make one scream - "Oh the HUMANITY!-"
. . . except they weren't humans, these nameless victims of some hideous act.
They were lizards.
Apparently they were all the victims of a murderous feline frenzy, each one met a tragic end at the hands -er PAWS of our cat. To further exacerbate the cruel irony she goes by the name of "Angel".
As noted in an earlier post - I am not "cat- people". In fact, while I appreciate the fact that they tend to fend off snakes and other reptiles that move and look enough like snakes to make me hurt myself before I can discern that they are harmless - I don't really like their killer instinct.
The cat and I seem to have something of an understanding these days ...
. . she understands that I am the one dissenting vote against her in this family
. . . and she also understands that that doesn't matter.
Since I am scolded for the times that I treat her like an animal, I am trying to be more congenial toward her.
That being said, I don't know how I am supposed to respond to these "gifts".
I mean cats have feelings... they can get embarrassed, they can be coy and they can pout and I have heard of some cats that can be particularly spiteful in their vengeance... in fact it rivals the fury of a woman scorned!
So I am aware of her sensitivities, but much like the female creature of our own species - I don't always know how I should respond.
Okay, I usually don't know how I should respond. . . okay almost never...
R. and I had a cat before children... it was a guy-cat and he was a little easier to figure. In fact, he and I grew to be pretty good com padres.
We chased each other through the house (one of the things I yell at my kids about these days) and he could be a ruthless opponent - but he didn't have a lot of that killer instinct.
He seldom brought us things he had killed. Actually, I think he was a little squeamish.
On more than one occasion I looked out the window at night to see him perched somewhere, watching a opossum eating from his bowl.
"live and let live" seemed to be his motto, so I just haven't had to deal with all this mortality.
It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma (apologies to Winston Churchill)! If I do away with these bodies, will that violate her sensitivities? Will she pout and possibly mistake my sofa for her litter-box!?!
Suppose she is maladjusted and becomes so distraught over my rejection of her "gifts" that she casts herself before some oncoming steam-roller. What kind of repercussions would that have between my family and me now - a relationship that has already had its back sets because of said cat.
Or perhaps she is co-dependent and will feel that she is just not killing enough small woodland creatures or the right kind of animals. That will just lead to more killings.
Then we get the animal rights folks all up in arms!
Oh she'd like that...
...Life has gotten a lot more complicated since we got a cat!
Just at the foot of the steps, inside the garage, lay a torso... another slumped in the corner ... yet another lay baking eerily in the April sun.
The horrific scene was enough to make one scream - "Oh the HUMANITY!-"
. . . except they weren't humans, these nameless victims of some hideous act.
They were lizards.
Apparently they were all the victims of a murderous feline frenzy, each one met a tragic end at the hands -er PAWS of our cat. To further exacerbate the cruel irony she goes by the name of "Angel".
As noted in an earlier post - I am not "cat- people". In fact, while I appreciate the fact that they tend to fend off snakes and other reptiles that move and look enough like snakes to make me hurt myself before I can discern that they are harmless - I don't really like their killer instinct.
The cat and I seem to have something of an understanding these days ...
. . she understands that I am the one dissenting vote against her in this family
. . . and she also understands that that doesn't matter.
Since I am scolded for the times that I treat her like an animal, I am trying to be more congenial toward her.
That being said, I don't know how I am supposed to respond to these "gifts".
I mean cats have feelings... they can get embarrassed, they can be coy and they can pout and I have heard of some cats that can be particularly spiteful in their vengeance... in fact it rivals the fury of a woman scorned!
So I am aware of her sensitivities, but much like the female creature of our own species - I don't always know how I should respond.
Okay, I usually don't know how I should respond. . . okay almost never...
R. and I had a cat before children... it was a guy-cat and he was a little easier to figure. In fact, he and I grew to be pretty good com padres.
We chased each other through the house (one of the things I yell at my kids about these days) and he could be a ruthless opponent - but he didn't have a lot of that killer instinct.
He seldom brought us things he had killed. Actually, I think he was a little squeamish.
On more than one occasion I looked out the window at night to see him perched somewhere, watching a opossum eating from his bowl.
"live and let live" seemed to be his motto, so I just haven't had to deal with all this mortality.
It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma (apologies to Winston Churchill)! If I do away with these bodies, will that violate her sensitivities? Will she pout and possibly mistake my sofa for her litter-box!?!
Suppose she is maladjusted and becomes so distraught over my rejection of her "gifts" that she casts herself before some oncoming steam-roller. What kind of repercussions would that have between my family and me now - a relationship that has already had its back sets because of said cat.
Or perhaps she is co-dependent and will feel that she is just not killing enough small woodland creatures or the right kind of animals. That will just lead to more killings.
Then we get the animal rights folks all up in arms!
Oh she'd like that...
...Life has gotten a lot more complicated since we got a cat!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Go Back to the Pigpen...
It's not enough that we have "Jimmy Carter" back in the White House- playing nice with the Iranians and all the other third world dictators in the world.... while at the same time telling the American citizens how naughty they have been for the past 200 + years...
Do we have to have an outbreak of swine flu on top of that!!!
How far will this country go to get us back to the vapid 70's???
And is it just me or do all those "world health officials" seem a little -well gleeful - when they suggest that maybe - just maybe - we will finally get that pandemic flu they have been telling us about?
It is almost as if they want to see a worldwide catastrophe - just so they can be vindicated.
And speaking of someone hoping for vindication through worldwide disaster... why is Al Gore still being taken seriously?
And speaking of throwbacks to the 70's, I have suddenly begun to hear the word "Ecology" bandied about again. I thought that word had fallen into obsolescence. I had a board game in the 70's called "Careers"... one of the career paths you could choose was Ecology.
You know, it was only a few years back that it was considered quite fashionable to ridicule and laugh about anything that came about in the 70's... disco, leisure suits, bad hair, bell bottoms ... it seemed that only a short time ago, we had come to our senses.
I grew up in that decade. If there was anything worth defending about our culture then, I think I would be doing it.
I also love nostalgia, but I have never thought of the decade of the seventies as being a time that provoked any feelings of nostalgia. We get nostalgic about times of simplicity and innocence; not much of either of those virtues could be found in the 70's.
Self-indulgence, self-centeredness... those seem to me to be the benchmarks of the 70's.
I haven't listened to any conservative talk radio today and I have only scanned the headlines of FOX News two or three times - so why this rant?... maybe it's just leftover angst from previous conservative talk radio shows I have heard this week. . .
...Or maybe it's just a common man spouting what he thinks is common sense.
Photo images:
Thursday, April 23, 2009
At Least He's Doing Something
I am in a quandary.
I long for a return to reason: a time when people sat at tables and discussed in a straightforward manner, their thoughts about important things. I would love to see men and women saying, "yes, I see your point but I understand it this way ..." and then proceed to build the case for what they believe based upon well-thought-out reasons.
In spite of the fact that I truly believe what Ronald Reagan said about change in our nation beginning with discussions at the kitchen table - it seems that for me, when the opportunity arises - I fall short. 'Just can't seem to muster the words.
Today I sat at a table with people I do not know. When the subject of our president arose I remained silent.
One woman declared that she did not vote for the man - but you have to say that at least he's trying!
Another was even more gung-ho for the president ...pointing out that he was facing what other presidents have never had to face before and "at least he's doing something!".
I willed my head to keep from nodding because -you see- I don't like confrontation and my natural tendency is to appear conciliatory whether I agree with what a person is saying or not. So I will sometimes unconsciously nod my head - and people assume that I am in total agreement with them. I did not want to lead her to that conclusion.
The meal was ending and we soon broke up and I never tried to reason with two people that were completely looking at things from an emotional level - and were simply and completely wrong.
Instead - I will talk about it here, where you can surf on if you don't like what I am saying.
I have heard this theme more than once lately when it comes to the president - "give the guy a chance!" ... "at least he's doing something!"...
One can move in rapid response to a person engulfed with flames and throw gasoline on him.
That is a quick response - and completely wrong. But we could all say, "at least he's doing something!"
I think those of us that feel that the president's policies and actions must be opposed, do so because we see that his actions will only result in peril. We see him as throwing gasoline on the fire.
Now, about the argument that he is dealing with problems that no president has had to face before. I think that statement reflects the self-indulgent nature of pop-culture today. Like a 12 year old, they feel that anything that happens to them is bigger than life... a hang nail can be the worst crisis in the world!
I think Roosevelt (the other president who responded to an economic crisis by dramatically increasing the size and scope of government) might beg to differ with that argument. People are out of work, but have you seen any bread lines?
What about Harry Truman, who was faced with the monumental decision of using a potentially earth shattering weapon to bring a prolonged war to an end?
Even Kennedy's Cuban Missile Crisis, with a threat of nuclear weapons from less than 100 miles off the coast of Florida - wasn't that a crisis like no other president had faced?
I am convinced that the level of the economic "crisis" in this country has been greatly enhanced by the actions of this president and this congress.
It is scary the way he has moved unabated to take unprecedented actions without seeming to take a moment to consider the long term effects of his decisions.
My mindset is generally positive. When facing negative situations, I tend to try and find something good that can or will emerge from the situation - then I hang my hope on that.
When our nation elected Obama as president - I honestly thought that he was incompetent, now I am not so sure.
My bigger concern now is that he knows exactly what he is doing. That he has a plan and it is a sinister one to destroy the fundamentals of this nation.
In our Bible Study class last week, someone spoke out with the voice of reason: he pointed out that many people were upset about the rapid changes to the most basic tenants of our nation and how that the general reaction is anger.
He then pointed out how that he had been thinking alot about that and had arrived at the notion that instead of getting angry, we - as Christians - should be taking an inward look in order that we may be able to stand out in the coming days as stark examples of true Christianity. That now, more than ever, we must represent Christ.
That's the spirit that drove the martyrs down through the ages, to stand - alone if necessary - for Christ . . .
. . . this could come to that.
If it does, I hope I will be able to summon more courage than I found today during lunch.
I long for a return to reason: a time when people sat at tables and discussed in a straightforward manner, their thoughts about important things. I would love to see men and women saying, "yes, I see your point but I understand it this way ..." and then proceed to build the case for what they believe based upon well-thought-out reasons.
In spite of the fact that I truly believe what Ronald Reagan said about change in our nation beginning with discussions at the kitchen table - it seems that for me, when the opportunity arises - I fall short. 'Just can't seem to muster the words.
Today I sat at a table with people I do not know. When the subject of our president arose I remained silent.
One woman declared that she did not vote for the man - but you have to say that at least he's trying!
Another was even more gung-ho for the president ...pointing out that he was facing what other presidents have never had to face before and "at least he's doing something!".
I willed my head to keep from nodding because -you see- I don't like confrontation and my natural tendency is to appear conciliatory whether I agree with what a person is saying or not. So I will sometimes unconsciously nod my head - and people assume that I am in total agreement with them. I did not want to lead her to that conclusion.
The meal was ending and we soon broke up and I never tried to reason with two people that were completely looking at things from an emotional level - and were simply and completely wrong.
Instead - I will talk about it here, where you can surf on if you don't like what I am saying.
I have heard this theme more than once lately when it comes to the president - "give the guy a chance!" ... "at least he's doing something!"...
One can move in rapid response to a person engulfed with flames and throw gasoline on him.
That is a quick response - and completely wrong. But we could all say, "at least he's doing something!"
I think those of us that feel that the president's policies and actions must be opposed, do so because we see that his actions will only result in peril. We see him as throwing gasoline on the fire.
Now, about the argument that he is dealing with problems that no president has had to face before. I think that statement reflects the self-indulgent nature of pop-culture today. Like a 12 year old, they feel that anything that happens to them is bigger than life... a hang nail can be the worst crisis in the world!
I think Roosevelt (the other president who responded to an economic crisis by dramatically increasing the size and scope of government) might beg to differ with that argument. People are out of work, but have you seen any bread lines?
What about Harry Truman, who was faced with the monumental decision of using a potentially earth shattering weapon to bring a prolonged war to an end?
Even Kennedy's Cuban Missile Crisis, with a threat of nuclear weapons from less than 100 miles off the coast of Florida - wasn't that a crisis like no other president had faced?
I am convinced that the level of the economic "crisis" in this country has been greatly enhanced by the actions of this president and this congress.
It is scary the way he has moved unabated to take unprecedented actions without seeming to take a moment to consider the long term effects of his decisions.
My mindset is generally positive. When facing negative situations, I tend to try and find something good that can or will emerge from the situation - then I hang my hope on that.
When our nation elected Obama as president - I honestly thought that he was incompetent, now I am not so sure.
My bigger concern now is that he knows exactly what he is doing. That he has a plan and it is a sinister one to destroy the fundamentals of this nation.
In our Bible Study class last week, someone spoke out with the voice of reason: he pointed out that many people were upset about the rapid changes to the most basic tenants of our nation and how that the general reaction is anger.
He then pointed out how that he had been thinking alot about that and had arrived at the notion that instead of getting angry, we - as Christians - should be taking an inward look in order that we may be able to stand out in the coming days as stark examples of true Christianity. That now, more than ever, we must represent Christ.
That's the spirit that drove the martyrs down through the ages, to stand - alone if necessary - for Christ . . .
. . . this could come to that.
If it does, I hope I will be able to summon more courage than I found today during lunch.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
dirty harry do you feel lucky
People who measure chronology will talk about "Diamond Jubiliees" or Golden Anniversaries... Record sells will sometimes "go Platinum" ... but today my R. did them all one better..
She went MAGNUM!
That's right - the "most powerful weapon" in the arsenal of our family hit the last stop enroute to her mid-forties today.
R. is 44 - Magnum.
I often have told you about all those wonderful things she is constantly doing... how my socks mysteriously find their way back into my sock drawer on a consistent basis, how the kids seldom go hungry and how our check book is a work of art when it comes to order and balance.... she is always doing wonderful things for me and this family... and for folks everywhere.
But I truly love her because of who she is.
And I am so glad that part of who she is - is my wife!
Happy Birthday, R. - I love you....
(do you think I should have checked with you first before I revealed your age???)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Capra's America: Tea Party Participants - Meet John Doe
Well they did it!
The People took to the streets today in droves in protest of goofy taxation.
I did not attend because I have a job (still) and that is the biggest reason that you don't often see a lot of people protesting things like high taxes and regressive economic policies - because the people that are against those things are too busy working to keep the country going.
But I am proud that it was a true grass roots effort, and I am proud of the people that attended... proud of those that sacrificed a vacation day; proud of the veterans who took a rare opportunity to speak out - when they fought to maintain the freedom for folks to do that; I was proud of the children and the parents that brung them (that misspelling is intentional).
I heard today, that in Springfield, Tennessee, the town held a Tax Day Tea Party and they wouldn't allow politicians to speak... when one tried, he was booed off the stage.
That's rich!
It put me in mind of a Frank Capra movie - Meet John Doe. I am using the occasion of that thought to launch a recurring series on Capra's America. You know, I am of the opinion that if we put the entire nation on a steady diet of Frank Capra pictures for about a month, we would see the whole nation turn around.
Anyway, in Meet John Doe, Barbara Stanwyck plays a street-wise reporter who is fired after a hostile takeover of her newspaper. She submits her last column but makes it all up. It's a story about a "John Doe" who is fed up with all the corruption in politics and the state of the world... he vows to leap off city hall in protest on Christmas Eve.
Well, as the story proceeds, she finds herself in the catbird seat and the newspaper is begging her to come back. She confesses the deception and convinces them to find a guy to be "John Doe" and play the story out.
Gary Cooper, a down-on-his-luck baseball player agrees to play the role of John Doe and using speeches written by Stanwyck about the glory of this experiment that is America - they launch a national campaign of John Doe Clubs. It literally sweeps the nation.
It's a wonderful story about community, loving your neighbor, and the American way.
In one scene John Doe finds himself in a small town courthouse, the people pour in to see him. The leader of the local John Doe Club tells numerous stories of how people began connecting and helping each other. And the mayor who is listening intently, chimes in - "well how come you never invited me to your John Doe Clubs?"... "no offense, Mayor," comes the reply "but we said from the start that we wouldn't allow any politicians to join."
I was reminded today, that that is the beauty of these Tax Day Protests - that they are strictly the people. Even though most of the national media - newspapers and network news outlets - ignored the story the protests went on.
Even though Mr. Obama's Department of Homeland Security released a strategically timed report warning law officials to be wary of "right-wing fanatical types" the Tea Parties continued.
Why? because it was the People that drove them.
And that's the thing that will keep America great - the People.
The People took to the streets today in droves in protest of goofy taxation.
I did not attend because I have a job (still) and that is the biggest reason that you don't often see a lot of people protesting things like high taxes and regressive economic policies - because the people that are against those things are too busy working to keep the country going.
But I am proud that it was a true grass roots effort, and I am proud of the people that attended... proud of those that sacrificed a vacation day; proud of the veterans who took a rare opportunity to speak out - when they fought to maintain the freedom for folks to do that; I was proud of the children and the parents that brung them (that misspelling is intentional).
I heard today, that in Springfield, Tennessee, the town held a Tax Day Tea Party and they wouldn't allow politicians to speak... when one tried, he was booed off the stage.
That's rich!
It put me in mind of a Frank Capra movie - Meet John Doe. I am using the occasion of that thought to launch a recurring series on Capra's America. You know, I am of the opinion that if we put the entire nation on a steady diet of Frank Capra pictures for about a month, we would see the whole nation turn around.
Anyway, in Meet John Doe, Barbara Stanwyck plays a street-wise reporter who is fired after a hostile takeover of her newspaper. She submits her last column but makes it all up. It's a story about a "John Doe" who is fed up with all the corruption in politics and the state of the world... he vows to leap off city hall in protest on Christmas Eve.
Well, as the story proceeds, she finds herself in the catbird seat and the newspaper is begging her to come back. She confesses the deception and convinces them to find a guy to be "John Doe" and play the story out.
Gary Cooper, a down-on-his-luck baseball player agrees to play the role of John Doe and using speeches written by Stanwyck about the glory of this experiment that is America - they launch a national campaign of John Doe Clubs. It literally sweeps the nation.
It's a wonderful story about community, loving your neighbor, and the American way.
In one scene John Doe finds himself in a small town courthouse, the people pour in to see him. The leader of the local John Doe Club tells numerous stories of how people began connecting and helping each other. And the mayor who is listening intently, chimes in - "well how come you never invited me to your John Doe Clubs?"... "no offense, Mayor," comes the reply "but we said from the start that we wouldn't allow any politicians to join."
I was reminded today, that that is the beauty of these Tax Day Protests - that they are strictly the people. Even though most of the national media - newspapers and network news outlets - ignored the story the protests went on.
Even though Mr. Obama's Department of Homeland Security released a strategically timed report warning law officials to be wary of "right-wing fanatical types" the Tea Parties continued.
Why? because it was the People that drove them.
And that's the thing that will keep America great - the People.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
April 15th - A Day That Will Live in Infamy
I truly would like to post something inspiring or insightful - maybe even something worth reading for the annual "You must file today or we are going to come get you and drag your worthless hiney off to jail" - day.But I am uninspired.
April 15th does not bring with it nearly as much pressure for me personally as it did for me during the Reagan administration. That's because that was the last time I did my own taxes. On at least one occasion, I was doing my taxes on the 15th.
Fortunately for me, we had someone in the White house that seemed to despise taxes almost as much as me.
Even more fortunately for me - I now have a wonderful wife that does all the nerd stuff (that's Dave Ramsey's term, not mine), she makes sure we have proper records, makes sure they all get to the tax preparer on time and makes sure all the signatures are in place. She's a gem.
A lot of people seem to be upset about taxes this year. They seem to think that folks in Washington are just spending money left and right without a single thought for tomorrow. And they are spending money on things these people wouldn't approve of if they were spending it themselves. And they are upset because it is their money the folks in Washington are spending.
I am one of them.
That's why I am uninspired.
Some folks will be going to Tea Parties tomorrow - in celebration of the glory of the "Boston Tea Party". I am glad to see those things going on, but I just seem to be at the end of my anger. You know, I just can't seem to muster any more emotion right now.
I have been listening to a book on CD for the last few days, it's Joel Rosenberg's Epicenter, the follow-up to his Last Jihad series.
(By the way, thanks John for loaning it to me - oh so long ago - you'll be glad to know I've finally finished it)
Anyway, the book is full of research involving the Bible's "third lens" of history and how Ezekiel 38 and 39 are evolving right before our eyes.
So the book has me in an apocalyptic frame of mind - and the President and Congress all seem to be making apocalyptic changes to our nation. Without real explanation ... without any moral justification ...
And it just makes me sad.
I have been praying for Barack Obama more these days - not really praying against him (which I am not beyond doing) - but truly praying that he will govern according to God's design.
I think we will have to speak up soon. Maybe the Tea Parties are a way for people to do that.
Maybe before we talk much, we need to pray.
A couple of summers ago, I read Catherine Drinker Bowen's Miracle at Philadelphia, about the Constitutional Convention in the summer of 1787. There was a strong need for prayer in those antagonistic meetings in that sultry hall. In the heat of one meeting, the aged Ben Franklin stood up and delivered this sage advise:
"In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we were sensible of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for divine protection. Our prayers, sir, were heard; and they were graciously answered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have observed frequent instances of a superintending Providence in our favor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful Friend? Or do we imagine that we no longer need [His] assistance?
"I have lived, sir, a long time; and the longer I live the more convincing proofs I see of this truth -- that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been assured, sir, in the sacred writings, that 'except the Lord build the house they labor in vain that build it.' I firmly believe this; and I also believe that without His concurring aid we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel; we shall be divided by our little partial, local interests, our projects will be confounded and we ourselves shall become a reproach and a byword down to future ages. And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing government by human wisdom and leave it to chance, war, or conquest.
This quote came from the National Center for Constitutional Studies website, you can link to it here.
I am aware that Franklin's speech was followed by a motion to have ministers begin each session with prayer and the motion failed because they didn't have the money to pay a chaplain.
The point is that in that time of turmoil even Benjamin Franklin - who was not known for his piety - recognized the need to turn to God.
So there. I don't feel inspiring, but maybe old Ben can stir us up.
Did you catch that line... "God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice ..."
I like that.
Sparrows are fairly helpless... especially baby sparrows, yet the Master is mindful of them... and I know He watches me...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Little Man on Stage
My little man - AA - who just can't seem to get enough public recognition, was onstage Thursday in the first grader's first annual Easter Pageant, "The Easter Pageant that Almost Wasn't".
I was pretty impressed with his ability to remember lyrics to a rap ... I have always had a little trouble with memorizing and saying things that had to be said fast.
The play is about a group trying to come up with a play for Easter. AA's portion involves the Three Wise Men - yes, that is a revved up version of - "We Three Kings of Orient Are" they're singing.
I hope you enjoy this as much as it appears my buddy-friend did. . .
Untitled from man of constant sorrow on Vimeo.
I was pretty impressed with his ability to remember lyrics to a rap ... I have always had a little trouble with memorizing and saying things that had to be said fast.
The play is about a group trying to come up with a play for Easter. AA's portion involves the Three Wise Men - yes, that is a revved up version of - "We Three Kings of Orient Are" they're singing.
I hope you enjoy this as much as it appears my buddy-friend did. . .
Untitled from man of constant sorrow on Vimeo.
He is Not Here
What a rush of sadness and insult that must have engulfed the already-wounded Mary when she heard those words,uttered from a stranger in the garden of the tomb.
When I was very small, my Dad's brother from California came to visit with much of his large family, they spent one night with us. Being very small I went to sleep before the sleeping arrangements were all worked out. Unbeknownst to me, my Uncle and Aunt were assigned to sleep in my parent's bed.
Some time in the night, I awoke and went to my parent's room - hoping to find comfort and solace (and probably an invitation to join them). I still remember the great shock when I gently called to Mom at the bedside -and "that woman" - that wasn't my Mom rolled over and looked at me!
It was sad to go to the place I always went for help - and find that my source wasn't there.
I suspect Mary felt a little like that.
But because that tomb was empty. Jesus - it's former occupant - is now in a position to "never leave" us.
Mary found an empty tomb, but soon her heart would be forever filled.
He arose. Jesus Christ proved that He was Who He said He was.
That made the awful price He paid of great value to us.
A good man could have been martyred as Jesus was and it would have been a great act of courage - it might have inspired many; but the act of laying down His life would have brought about no real change.
Only God Himself - perfect, sinless - laying down His life would allow us to truly be changed...
...and changed forever!
Happy Resurrection Day!!
When I was very small, my Dad's brother from California came to visit with much of his large family, they spent one night with us. Being very small I went to sleep before the sleeping arrangements were all worked out. Unbeknownst to me, my Uncle and Aunt were assigned to sleep in my parent's bed.
Some time in the night, I awoke and went to my parent's room - hoping to find comfort and solace (and probably an invitation to join them). I still remember the great shock when I gently called to Mom at the bedside -and "that woman" - that wasn't my Mom rolled over and looked at me!
It was sad to go to the place I always went for help - and find that my source wasn't there.
I suspect Mary felt a little like that.
But because that tomb was empty. Jesus - it's former occupant - is now in a position to "never leave" us.
Mary found an empty tomb, but soon her heart would be forever filled.
He arose. Jesus Christ proved that He was Who He said He was.
That made the awful price He paid of great value to us.
A good man could have been martyred as Jesus was and it would have been a great act of courage - it might have inspired many; but the act of laying down His life would have brought about no real change.
Only God Himself - perfect, sinless - laying down His life would allow us to truly be changed...
...and changed forever!
Happy Resurrection Day!!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Dusty Roads
I am waiting for videos from AA's Easter Pageant to upload. They were too big for Photo-Bucket so I am using VIMEO but it takes a lo-o-o-ong time to upload a two minute video.
Anyway, I thought I would take a moment for a primer on life in these SOUTHEASTERN United States.
If you asked me my favorite season I would say Fall, without a moment's hesitation... I like rustic, I like brown, I like that all of nature is finally slowing down - (I am waxing poetic!).
But when it is happening, I love Spring as well. I just walk around with a slight sense of anticipation. My Dad was in management most of my life - and he has always referred to gardening as his "therapy". He just likes to see things grow. In fact he has been known to plow under that thing that is not growing, just so he can plant something else that will grow.
While I am not much for maintaining a garden, I do love to see things grow around my yard.
Despite an unseasonable spate of snow earlier this week, Spring has made her return and it lures me outdoors.
In my part of the South - however - we have pine trees. And this time of year, these trees dump an enormous amount of yellow pollen everywhere! It's enough to make one run screaming back inside the house!
Yesterday, I got home a little earlier than usual and decided to run. The frigid temperatures of earlier in the week had modified to a pleasant 65 to 70 degrees.
My driveway, our front porch, even our garage flooring is all coated with a layer of this yellow dust.
When I returned from my run I felt like the Pillsbury Dough boy's jaundiced evil twin - Pollen-Boy! I could feel the yellow dust in my eyes. Which resulted in my adopting a visage similar to the glare Clint Eastwood used to wear in all those spaghetti westerns.
In Georgia, it's just an annual event. For several days we see the pollen settle in like a lemon fog and we wait ... and wait ... and wait...
Eventually a rain will come and we will have custard puddles everywhere. And if it has run its course, it will be over. If it hasn't run it's course, it will start up again and we will again, look to the skies hoping for rain.
Perhaps it's good that the pollen-pelting takes place this time of year. I mean part of the ceremony surrounding the feast of Passover - involved enduring hardship - in the case of the Jews, they ate bitter herbs to remind them of the bitter times they had endured in Egyptian captivity.
They had waited and waited for God to listen again. Hoping somehow, He would come and wash away all their misery. Passover was the culmination of a number of events in which God did just that - He washed away their misery. In fact, as they were walking away in liberty, God told Moses He was "rolling off" the reproach of Egypt.
We who believe that Jesus is the Messiah, know that the Passover feast was not the whole story... it was just a "shadow" of what true liberty and deliverance would look like.
On the night before He laid down His life, Jesus participated in the Passover and again, gave His followers a "shadow" as He explained how the broken bread represented His body... and the wine - His blood.
This Maundy Thursday, we remember that He suffered and on Good Friday, the broken shell of His body lay in the tomb.
Those who followed Him waited ... and waited ... and waited....
afraid to breathe too loudly, afraid of what might happen next... waiting - hoping God would somehow wash away their misery.
Resurrection Sunday, we remember that He did just that!
As Jesus walked away from the tomb proving that He really was God and completing the transaction that purchased our redemption.. . .
. . . He literally cleared the air!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Big Brother
Those of you familiar with my penchant for politics are probably making some assumptions based on the title of this post - that I am going to go off on a tangent about the loss of liberties and the rapid encroachment of an oppressive government upon all things America.
Well you're wrong - so there!
Tonight I want to talk about ...
...my big brother.
He celebrated a birthday this week and - as is tradition, I will try and call him a day or so late to wish him happy birthday.
My brother is eleven years older than I and so we were not always real close. He was the oldest, I was the baby - we came up differently - and we have ended up different... but also alike. We shared the same room until he went away to college - which may be why we weren't real close.
I can now fully understand why a seventeen year old guy with much to prove, would not want his six year old little brother pinning up pictures he had coloredon the walls of his "pad". He often brings that up even today (he really should get past that). I usually come back with my own accounts of how he tried to kill me by bouncing up and down on the top of our bunk beds, while I quaked on the bottom bunk -yelling for my Mama.
I remember his class ring, if I were to shave my head, you could probably still find a scar resembling the inverted lettering for "Cedartown High School" there. He used to punctuate his nickname for me - "Punk!" - with a class-ring-to-the-head-reminder.
But there were good days too, during our communal existence. It's funny, I think I can remember most of them.
I remember my brother letting me camp out with him and another guy (the other guy was somewhat obnoxious which may be the reason I was allowed to go) and comforting me a little when I couldn't sleep.
I remember the day my brother taught me to ride a bicycle. Mom had to go somewhere that summer day and my big brother and I ate breakfast together. I remember because we had an egg eating contest and I won! I still remember the lump in my throat that I carried around for awhile after packing in those dry scrambled eggs.
Then, Mama had strictly told my brother not to take the training wheels off my bicycle. Mom was always trying to protect her "baby" and my brother was always trying to protect me from being a "baby" all my life. So instead of taking the training wheels off, he just raised them to the point that they couldn't be relied upon, and we set out to learn to two-wheel it. Then we set off on our quest.
I don't remember exactly how I progressed to that point, but soon I was all alone atop the little hill that descended past the front of our house. And several of my brother's contemporaries were down there with him at the foot of the hill, cheering me on!
I crashed somewhere near the bottom - skinning my knee (you know that is a phrase that is falling out of fashion these days). All those guys, along with my brother were patting me on the back and talking about how I had "done it!" - I had ridden down the hill on my own. I soon became too busy taking in all that praise to remember to cry about my skinned knee.
When Mom came home, we removed my training wheels forever.
When my brother got a job, he picked up a BB gun in a store one day and handed it to me, "if you can cock that thing, I'll buy you one" he said.
You may remember that the really dangerous thing about a Daisy BB Rifle was not getting shot with it. The worse danger lay in getting your finger broken while cocking the thing.
I struggled with it, and I actually think it was on another trip to that store that I finally cocked the thing. Soon I was killing every tin can in sight.
He also bought me my first baseball glove - I still have it. Well I actually had one of those little plastic gloves before that, but my brother bought me my first official, leather, Spalding flex-web glove with the Tom Seaver autograph in the pocket. He soon began teaching me how not to "catch like a girl".
I remember when he came home from college for the summer, he had electronic equipment!
Our room, which had once been ground zero for our points of contention, was now our little bachelor's pad, complete with a little television and a stereo. That summer, I played the Beatles' Hey Jude 45 record all the time (kids, 45's are smaller versions of LP Albums... LP meaning "Long Play"... these were crude carbon precursors to the digital storage devices of our day).
Most of the time, that summer, we were buds.
A few years back, my brother and I went into business together and for about two years, we were almost inseparable. Our constant attempts at entertaining one another and the catch-phrases that we developed during those days, are still legendary. The business failed and it was a trying time, but I still get tickled thinking about the laughs we had.
My brother is approaching his 60's.
I had let that soak in. Grandparents should be in their 60's... and maybe old uncles, but it seems very odd to have a brother that is almost 60.
He has and always will be, someone I look up to. I think he knows that.
These days, it comes pretty easy for us to say "I love you" to one another - I think especially since Dad has been in poor health.
A guy called me the other day to tell he had met my brother - anytime someone does that I feign embarrassment and ask something like - "he didn't try to sell you anything, did he?" - but deep down I like being associated with my big brother.
Kinda' like when we shared the same room only without the coloring book pictures.
Happy birthday, Bro (belated of course).
I love you.
Well you're wrong - so there!
Tonight I want to talk about ...
...my big brother.
He celebrated a birthday this week and - as is tradition, I will try and call him a day or so late to wish him happy birthday.
My brother is eleven years older than I and so we were not always real close. He was the oldest, I was the baby - we came up differently - and we have ended up different... but also alike. We shared the same room until he went away to college - which may be why we weren't real close.
I can now fully understand why a seventeen year old guy with much to prove, would not want his six year old little brother pinning up pictures he had coloredon the walls of his "pad". He often brings that up even today (he really should get past that). I usually come back with my own accounts of how he tried to kill me by bouncing up and down on the top of our bunk beds, while I quaked on the bottom bunk -yelling for my Mama.
I remember his class ring, if I were to shave my head, you could probably still find a scar resembling the inverted lettering for "Cedartown High School" there. He used to punctuate his nickname for me - "Punk!" - with a class-ring-to-the-head-reminder.
But there were good days too, during our communal existence. It's funny, I think I can remember most of them.
I remember my brother letting me camp out with him and another guy (the other guy was somewhat obnoxious which may be the reason I was allowed to go) and comforting me a little when I couldn't sleep.
I remember the day my brother taught me to ride a bicycle. Mom had to go somewhere that summer day and my big brother and I ate breakfast together. I remember because we had an egg eating contest and I won! I still remember the lump in my throat that I carried around for awhile after packing in those dry scrambled eggs.
Then, Mama had strictly told my brother not to take the training wheels off my bicycle. Mom was always trying to protect her "baby" and my brother was always trying to protect me from being a "baby" all my life. So instead of taking the training wheels off, he just raised them to the point that they couldn't be relied upon, and we set out to learn to two-wheel it. Then we set off on our quest.
I don't remember exactly how I progressed to that point, but soon I was all alone atop the little hill that descended past the front of our house. And several of my brother's contemporaries were down there with him at the foot of the hill, cheering me on!
I crashed somewhere near the bottom - skinning my knee (you know that is a phrase that is falling out of fashion these days). All those guys, along with my brother were patting me on the back and talking about how I had "done it!" - I had ridden down the hill on my own. I soon became too busy taking in all that praise to remember to cry about my skinned knee.
When Mom came home, we removed my training wheels forever.
When my brother got a job, he picked up a BB gun in a store one day and handed it to me, "if you can cock that thing, I'll buy you one" he said.
You may remember that the really dangerous thing about a Daisy BB Rifle was not getting shot with it. The worse danger lay in getting your finger broken while cocking the thing.
I struggled with it, and I actually think it was on another trip to that store that I finally cocked the thing. Soon I was killing every tin can in sight.
He also bought me my first baseball glove - I still have it. Well I actually had one of those little plastic gloves before that, but my brother bought me my first official, leather, Spalding flex-web glove with the Tom Seaver autograph in the pocket. He soon began teaching me how not to "catch like a girl".
I remember when he came home from college for the summer, he had electronic equipment!
Our room, which had once been ground zero for our points of contention, was now our little bachelor's pad, complete with a little television and a stereo. That summer, I played the Beatles' Hey Jude 45 record all the time (kids, 45's are smaller versions of LP Albums... LP meaning "Long Play"... these were crude carbon precursors to the digital storage devices of our day).
Most of the time, that summer, we were buds.
A few years back, my brother and I went into business together and for about two years, we were almost inseparable. Our constant attempts at entertaining one another and the catch-phrases that we developed during those days, are still legendary. The business failed and it was a trying time, but I still get tickled thinking about the laughs we had.
My brother is approaching his 60's.
I had let that soak in. Grandparents should be in their 60's... and maybe old uncles, but it seems very odd to have a brother that is almost 60.
He has and always will be, someone I look up to. I think he knows that.
These days, it comes pretty easy for us to say "I love you" to one another - I think especially since Dad has been in poor health.
A guy called me the other day to tell he had met my brother - anytime someone does that I feign embarrassment and ask something like - "he didn't try to sell you anything, did he?" - but deep down I like being associated with my big brother.
Kinda' like when we shared the same room only without the coloring book pictures.
Happy birthday, Bro (belated of course).
I love you.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Father-Daughter Dance
Last night Ab and I attended the Father-Daughter dance sponsored by the "American Girls" group at school.
I was more or less shamed into attending the dance last year because I had neglected it the year before. But Ab and I had such a great time, the it now bears the possibility of become something of a tradition.
However, I noticed a marked difference in my date last year and my date this year.
Last year I was surprised by the fact that my little girl was completely uninhibited when it came to dancing. I-on the other hand-have always been embarrassed by the fact that I do not know how to dance. This was due -in great part- to my strict upbringing and to some degree due to my own awkwardness.
But, at last year's dance I soon realized that it was just a bunch of guys who mostly couldn't dance and a bunch of daughters who mostly didn't care that they couldn't dance.
So Ab and I danced with reckless abandon to almost every tune. It was great!
This year, as Ab and I stepped onto the dance floor shortly after arriving and having our pictures made, I noticed a stark difference: the first thing Ab said to me was something about the fact that she couldn't dance. And I noticed her looking around stiffly to see if anyone was watching.
Where did that come from?
Oh, I'm familiar with the concept having felt similarly most of my life, but why this sudden display of self-consciousness in my daughter?
Who told her she couldn't dance?
My thoughts went back to an SCL post I read this week about "shame" and how that the fallenness of our nature lurks ready to pounce on our thoughts at any moment.
God asked Adam and Eve: "who told you you were naked?" as they stood before Him in shame, having disobeyed their one rule. The first sensation they experienced as a result of sin was shame.
No one has to tell us that we come up short - that we are not meet for the task at hand - the fact that we live in a fallen world and that the accuser has access to whisper his reminders to us results in a constant awareness of our own inadequacies.
I am very familiar with my own sense of "not measuring up" and in recent years I have begun to see that my best defense is to acknowledge before God that this fear is present in me. And then to cast it upon Him, asking Him to take and deal with those fears that I am powerless to defeat on my own.
But it bothers me more to see those same fears lurking in my daughter.
Did she inherit that from me?
The sad truth is that the answer to that question is "yes".
Just like I inherited that fear from my own father - Adam.
It is part of the nature with which we all must grapple. The complexity of the situation is compounded by the fact that we all feel isolated in the battle - as if no one else has ever had to deal with sense of falling short.
However, I truly believe that one of the clear messages that extends from the Easter story and Christ's resurrection is that He is now able to change our nature and He made a way for us to walk in LIBERTY!
Oh the accuser will still whisper, but I don't have to listen - or better yet I can take the whispers to Christ, one by one and He will deal with them.
The Father - Daughter dance was a great joy once again. Ab did indeed shed some of her inhibitions and we cut a rug .... no matter who was watching.
You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever! Psalm 30:11 & 12 NLT
Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
HR : the world of excitement
I think I have mentioned that I work in Human Resources.
This is not an occupation that evokes immediate interest in most people. In fact when it comes up in conversation, it is usually followed by an awkward silence.
The truth is that people do not really know what HR people do - specifically.
And because HR is one of those "catch-all" categories in most companies, the department can be involved in anything from sexual harassment investigations to stapling festive and colorful Japanese lanterns to the ceiling tile (having said that, I now wonder if "Japanese lanterns" is an insensitive and discriminatory term). So it is difficult to narrow the job down to a few distinct phrases.
A year or so back, my Mom asked me (again) what it was exactly that I did. Someone had asked her and she found herself at a loss as to how to explain it.
It is hard to explain, HR people are involved in a massive variety of pursuits - which is one of the things I enjoy about my work. . . variety.
I actually chose this field because I like people and I wanted to be involved in training endeavors. I saw HR as a route to get into training and liked the idea of helping others gain meaningful employment. Instead, I get to work with training, but I also get to get my hands into a lot of other stuff too - including the occasional stapling of festive paper lanterns (not from any particular ethnic or people-group).
Okay, this post was originally intended to be more of a caption but I guess I got carried away talking about my job.
Since one of the functions of my job is health care recruiting, I conduct numerous interviews ; which is why the following video struck me as so FUNNY!
This is not an occupation that evokes immediate interest in most people. In fact when it comes up in conversation, it is usually followed by an awkward silence.
The truth is that people do not really know what HR people do - specifically.
And because HR is one of those "catch-all" categories in most companies, the department can be involved in anything from sexual harassment investigations to stapling festive and colorful Japanese lanterns to the ceiling tile (having said that, I now wonder if "Japanese lanterns" is an insensitive and discriminatory term). So it is difficult to narrow the job down to a few distinct phrases.
A year or so back, my Mom asked me (again) what it was exactly that I did. Someone had asked her and she found herself at a loss as to how to explain it.
It is hard to explain, HR people are involved in a massive variety of pursuits - which is one of the things I enjoy about my work. . . variety.
I actually chose this field because I like people and I wanted to be involved in training endeavors. I saw HR as a route to get into training and liked the idea of helping others gain meaningful employment. Instead, I get to work with training, but I also get to get my hands into a lot of other stuff too - including the occasional stapling of festive paper lanterns (not from any particular ethnic or people-group).
Okay, this post was originally intended to be more of a caption but I guess I got carried away talking about my job.
Since one of the functions of my job is health care recruiting, I conduct numerous interviews ; which is why the following video struck me as so FUNNY!
The video was emailed to me - I'm not sure where it originated.
What is your most interesting job interview experience?
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