Wishing You A Blessed...

May the coming year bring you peace and happiness.

Sending Peace...

...from my house to yours, and wishing you all a very "Merry Christmas!"

May all of your fondest dreams come true during this special season, and may we all remember what this season is all about!

Let us recall memories of times past, and look forward to a new year, praying that we can all experience true peace in our hearts, and in our homes.

This is my prayer for you, my friends:

The Lord will give strength unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace.

Psalm 29:11

KJV

We Are Not Ashamed...Merry Christmas!

While you are gathered together with your friends and loved ones in celebration of this special Christmas season, please take a moment to remember our men and women in uniform who will not be spending this special time with the people they love.

Let's pray for their safe return to their families, and remember to give thanks for
all the blessings in our own lives.

Freedom is one of the blessings we have, and it is their sacrifice which helps to assure that we, as Americans, of every color and creed, can stand together to proclaim that this is Our Country, and we are proud of it, and not ashamed of our own moral clarity, nor of our Christian heritage.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas At Arlington

Rest easy, sleep well my brothers.
Know the line has held, your job is done.
Rest easy, sleep well.
Others have taken up where you fell, the line has held.
Peace, peace, and farewell...

Greater love hath no man but this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

KJV

Amen

A Most Treasured Memory

My friend, Z, had a most interesting post, recently, Is that.....No! It couldn't be! which prompted me to write my own experience.

She asked her readers for similar experiences, and I had intended to add mine, there, but it was much too long, so I decided to post it on my own blog.

Thanks, Z, for the idea..and 'the list,' which was pretty interesting, in itself.

For years, I had been a great admirer of David Hartman. Even as a young girl, I had what you might call a crush on him...the only crush that I can ever remember having on anyone, especially an 'older' man. Ah, but Mr. Hartman was not like any other in my eyes. Handsome, courteous, and I just knew that he would have to be the sweetest man in the world. My heart's desire was that I would, someday, meet this wonderful person, but alas, for this poor little Alabama girl, it would never be more than just a far-fetched dream.

The years passed, and many historical events took place, including the terrible tragedy of the shuttle, Challenger, in 1986. Then, in 1988, when they had the return to flight, due to my husband's work at the Kennedy Space Center, I was privileged to watch the launch of the shuttle Discovery from the VIP section.

As I sat there, at the top of the section, looking around, I laughed to myself at the sight of all of the Rollex watches assembled in one place. I had never, in my life, seen so many of them, on men and women, alike.

As I sat there, listening to bits and pieces of conversations, about the event, and which private plane they had flown in on, where they were headed afterwards, a trip recently taken to one place or another, a party here, or there....just the normal everyday topics of conversation for these people...I noticed a tall, handsome man, headed up the steps, in my direction...a very familiar face, and then like Z, I thought " Is that...no! It couldn't be!" But it was! David Hartman walked right up to me, and asked if I minded if he and his family joined me! He then introduced himself, and his family--his wife, two teen aged sons, and his father-in-law. As if he needed any introduction at all!

He was as kind, and gracious, in person as he was on film, and so were the other members of his family. I, especially remember his father-in-law's hat, which was a straw hat, much like one would wear while working outside in his garden. Mr. Hartman explained to me that he had been badly burned in some kind of accident..the scars were there..so, I suppose the hat was to protect his face from the hot Florida sun pouring down on us.

We had a great time, and we, and all others there at the site, held our breaths, and I'm sure many prayed, as we did, as the time approached...a minute or so..when the Challenger had exploded. When it reached that point, and beyond, there were many shouts of joy and relief which went up from all of us assembled there.

After the countdown, and when the shuttle launches, it is so loud, and one can feel the vibrations throughout the body to such a degree that it is awesome to realize the power involved in that operation. All I could think was that if there was that much power created by mere man, how much more so the power of the Almighty, our Creator. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

After it was all over, we said our goodbyes, and said how much we had enjoyed watching this historical event together. I could hardly believe what had just happened in my life, and all I kept thinking of the scripture which says: "Delight yourself, also, in the Lord, and he shall give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4 NKJV

FYI:

David Hartman
Most of you probably don't remember David Hartman but a quick Google search will reveal that he played a number of roles on TV and in movies. However, his career reached its peak when he was chosen as the host of a new AM news program called Good Morning America. With his affable style and natural charm he was the perfect choice to interview newsmakers and introduce the news. In fact, at one point, David Hartman was the highest-paid man on television. It would seem, however, that fame and riches were not Hartman's cup of tea. I really hope that he invested wisely because Hartman has been more or less MIA since he left the show.
Source: TV Squad

Well, Mr. Hartman, I do remember you, not only for your excellence in your chosen field of work, but also for your being such a gentleman in your courtesy toward me, and the genuine love shown toward your family that day that I had the priviliege of meeting you all. It will always be one of my most treasured memories

What Happened To Dignity?

There are some things which just make me cringe, and this is one of them.

What happened to the diginity which is expected of the highest office in the land?

Two First Ladies exiting Air Force 1.

Need I say more?

The Cat's Out Of The Bag

Well, well..I've been wondering when some of the more recognized, erudite, writers would address the subject of the president's shenanigans from 'the dark side' of his earlier years. Several months ago, after coming across several interesting sites which did address them, I wanted to begin writing about it on here, but one of my closest confidants, out of his concern for me, cautioned me about it, saying that I had to guard my credibility, and until more facts came out, and more main stream media addressed it, that I should give it more thought. So, I did, and I have refrained from making any mention of it, even after Larry Sinclair, whom I've followed from the time that he began speaking out about his own experience, which he writes about in his book, "Barack Obama & Larry Sinclair: Cocaine, Sex, Lies & Murder?"

But now, it looks like the cat's really out of the bag.

Things have changed, ( not the changes they were promising ) and now it is out in the open. There are many now taking the issue quite seriously, and there seems to be more digging for facts, which are being found. Sometimes, no matter how hard one tries, old skeletons just can't be buried deep enough. As the old saying goes, "Your sins will find you out."

Donald Douglas of American Power has more on it in his article, Obama's Gay Nightmare: Still Waiting for Barry's Backside Boogie Pics!

A Thanksgiving Prayer

"O God, when I have food,
help me to remember the hungry;

When I have work,
help me to remember the jobless;

When I have a home,
help me to remember those who have no home at all;

When I am without pain,
help me to remember those who suffer,

And remembering,
help me to destroy my complacency;
bestir my compassion,
and be concerned enough to help;

By word and deed,
those who cry out for what we take for granted.
Amen."
by Samuel F. Pugh

Yes..I wanted to make this post happy and uplifting, and I looked through many, many, pictures and photos on here. There were some beautiful ones, showing a bountiful harvest of mouth-watering foods, with happy family gathered all around, but somehow, after finding the touching prayer above, none of the pictures seemed to fit.

I wish that everyone, on this day of thanksgiving, felt that they really had something to be thankful for, but I am enough of a realist to realize that many won't be feeling that way, at all. We do have much to be thankful for, no doubt about that, but somehow, it is not the same in this country, anymore.

It's true that I feel very blessed, and I realize that I am, but I can, also, remember at times, growing up, that we hardly had enough food to sustain us. If we got sick, we couldn't go to a doctor, and I can remember a time when I actually wore shoes with cardboard inside them, to keep out the wet and cold. No, I am not so old that I lived through the depression. It's just that we were poor, and it was always a struggle, but along with all of that, there was, also, hope for a better time..a better way of life, and I eventually, found it.

Now, it seems that all of that--the hope for something better--has been snatched away, and I know some, having had it pretty good not so long ago, are now worried about seeing it all slip away, along with the hope they once had. It seems that rather than moving forward with hope, we are going backwards, and instead of hope, there is fear. It is hard to think about that, and it shouldn't be this way.

Yes, let's give thanks for what we have, now, but let's not forget the ones without food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and all of the things that we so take for granted. Let's not forget our troops who are sacrificing everything, so far away from home, and so unappreciated by so many. As we give thanks, let us pray for their safety, and let us pray that what they are doing will never be in vain.

Let us pray that our country will always remain one nation under God..that we will never be robbed of the liberty and justice to which we are all entitled, by those whom have not our best interests at heart.

Most of all...let's just pray.

And pray.

That could be the only thing that saves our great nation at this point.

We're The People

I watched an old movie on television, recently, about hardships and loss. Not only loss of all material possessions due to a depression, but loss of life of family members, as they pursued a way to survive, and not only to survive, but to find a better way of life. Along the way, they were faced with having their dignity taken away, and along with that, their very freedom. Throughout it all, in spite of all the difficulties, they faced everything with a stoicism worthy of admiration.

As I watched the movie, "The Grapes of Wrath" I was struck with the similarities of the possible events facing our country at this time, and of the fears of many of the people today. To say that the events portrayed in a movie could never happen in real life is equivalent to hiding one's face in the sand. Certain events are already happening, but many are still unable to see it, or refusing to admit that our nation is undergoing changes never imagined in this lifetime.

It is easy to despair when one looks around and sees the hardships happening all around us, on a daily basis...loss of jobs, of homes, and families being torn apart because it is no longer possible, financially, to stay together in one place. Instead of getting better, as promised in campaign promises, they are only getting worse, and we are losing, along with homes, and jobs, many of our freedoms.

I hope it is not too late to turn our country around again, but in order to do so, we must all work together to see that we have the right people in places of power...people of moral character, whose interest is in seeing that all people are treated equally, and fairly, and not denied their God-given right to freedom--people who are in office, not for their own personal greed, but to work for the rights of all citizens, no matter the color of skin, or whether they are rich or poor.

Believe it or not, I do have a little glimmer of hope, as I sit here, thinking of the very last line spoken in that movie.

As what is left of the family is in the old truck, moving on to whatever else faces them--the old man sits there, despondent, and feeling that he has failed, but his wife, as stoic as ever, explains to him the differences in themselves, as man and woman, and how it is that they get through life, each in his, or her, own way, She has not lost her dignity, nor has she lost her hope, as she says: "We'll go on forever, Pa--'cause WE'RE the PEOPLE!"

Yes, let's remember that we ARE the PEOPLE. We are diverse, our ways of living and coping are different but we are "WE, THE PEOPLE" of this great country of ours, and nothing, NOTHING, should ever change that! With God's help, we WILL go on FOREVER as a country under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for ALL!

Thinking Of My Friend

(Click on image to enlarge text)


We've all had those moments of anguish, sorrow, and defeat, and for some of us, it is not moments, or hours, days, weeks, or even months, but an indeterminable time of that feeling of total despair, and emptiness.

Those times when it feels that we are walking completely alone, no matter how brief the time span, when we are hurting to the very depth of our being, it can seem an eternity.

Our only consolation comes from knowing in Whom we have believed, and being fully persuaded, that He is able to keep that which we have committed unto Him. 2 Timothy 1:12

This one thing we know: God loves us with an everlasting love, and He knows our weaknesses, and our strengths. His word says that He will never put on us, more than we are able to bear, and He will be there by our side to help us, and to carry us when we are too weak to walk alone.

I love these words from the song, "The Love of God," because they are so true:

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

This was written by Frederick M. Lehman in 1917, based on the Jewish poem, "Haddamut," written by Cantor Meir Ben Isaac Nehorai, in 1050, in Worms, Germany.

As I write this, I am thinking of my friend, Z, of geeeeeZ! blog. She is going through a difficult time right now, but she will be sustained by her faith, which was shared by her beloved husband, Mr. Z.

He knew, and experienced, the Love spoken of here.

I love you, Z.

Proper Attribution For Essay By Author Lee Pitts

To any of my readers who read a post I did awhile back, by the title of "Dirt Roads," I would like for you to be made aware of the fact that Paul Harvey is not the author of that wonderful essay, as I had thought. It seems that Mr. Harvey was very fond of the piece, and read it, publicly, quite often, but always gave Lee Pitts, the author who actually wrote it, proper credit for it...unfortunately, others like myself, not being aware of the real author, did not give Mr. Lee proper attribution. The essay is only one of many, in the book, "People Who Live at the End of Dirt Roads," and illustrated by Don Dane.

I apologize to Mr. Pitts, and recommend that if you haven't read the essay, that you will read it now, because it is so full of wisdom, and a wonderful memory jogger. If only what he wrote about those times were still true, today. Perhaps, somewhere, they still are, and I hope so, but I wonder.

You can check out information about the book here, and here, where you will be able to see that it is now a collector's item, but some used paperbacks may still be available.

Thank you, Mr. Pitts, for calling this to my attention. Now, I know that there is a whole book filled with these wonderful essays.

That's a picture of the book at the top of the page, found on Amazon.com and when you click on it there, at Amazon, you will be able to see the titles of all of the essays in the book.

Peace

Peace, as defined by the Mirriam-Webster Dictionary can mean many things, but the one I'm pursuing at this moment is "freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions."

It isn't easy to obtain at the moment. As I watch, day by day, the unfolding events in the political world, fear, apprehension, and uncertainty become nagging, little undercurrents, in the process of my thinking, to the point where they become oppressive.

It is not easy to be at peace when one has no confidence in the newly elected leader of our nation. Never have I felt, nor sensed in others, such a sense of foreboding.

I know that no man can offer the peace that passes understanding, so I go to the One Who is able to do that.

Here are some words that offer, to me, a sense of peace. I hope they will mean something to you, too.

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)

And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever. (Isaiah 32:17)

I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety. (Psalms 4:8)

For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the LORD that hath mercy on thee. (Isaiah 54:10)

*I posted this awhile ago, but in reading these scriptures, again, I felt comforted, so I posted it, once more.

May you feel peace, today, and new hope for tomorrow.

Need I Say More?

Need I say more?

No, but I will.

President Abraham Lincoln said a lot in his address at Gettysburg, but the one statement that has always gotten my attention was this:
"that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

Abraham Lincoln - November 19, 1863

The speech, itself, was to honor the fallen of the war, and to dedicate a portion of the land where they had fallen, but it, in a sense, became much more than that, in that the words came to define democracy, itself, and are taken quite seriously by many with the strong conviction that the words meant what they said, and that it would ever be so. However, there are too many who think that they are nothing more than "words, just words," and what a travesty it all has become.

How far we have fallen as a nation, but the flaming fire of that conviction--the conviction that freedom, and the government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth-- still burns as brightly as ever in the hearts of most of the citizens of our great country.

That in itself, should give us the determination to stand, even in the face of all adversity.

Until Then...

I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I have come to the conclusion that it's time to take a break from blogging. Oh, not that I have been faithful, and committed...I haven't. Actually, I am a very poor excuse for what one would normally think of as a "Blogger." A real blogger blogs even when their spirits are low, or if they are not feeling up to par, physically.

The truth is that I have nothing to offer, because I am weary of even thinking of politics, and the state that our country finds itself in, lately. Other than that subject, I have written about myself, and my own experiences, mostly. I'm not sure how interesting that is to others, though, and I'm not an expert in any particular field of interest, so there you are--time to stop, at least for now.

I'll leave everything as it is, and I will still be here, reading other blogs, and happily answering any emails that anyone is kind enough to write. Later, perhaps, I will feel that I have something to write about, worth reading. Until then, thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to drop by...you were more than welcome.

I wanted to leave something uplifting, since it will be here for awhile, so I reposted the picture of the plaque hanging in my family room. I hope that trouble never knocks on your door, but if it does, I hope it will hear your laughter, and hurry away.

I want to keep as much laughter as possible in my home.

How about you?

Mama's Mortification

Today is Sunday, and down south, where I'm from, they'll be serving up a lot of chicken and dumplings. But I just can't eat chicken and dumplings without remembering Mama's mortification.

Just before my ninth birthday, Mama got married again, to a widower with six children. Now, Daddy was an uneducated man, as far as any formal training, but he was so much fun, and saw a little humor in just about everything.

In fact, he said concerning his education, or lack thereof, he did finish the first grade, and would have gone on to the second, but couldn't 'cause his daddy was still in there!

Not having been trained for much of anything, other than "hard worker" and because there was no work of any kind available, Daddy became a sharecropper. That isn't an accurate job description, because we didn't get to share in much of anything at all, except the work, and we got to live in a shack, which the owner preferred to call a house.

We worked the crops for the owner. We got some flour and beans, and a few meager commodities, and enough money for shoes when school started in the fall. This, of course, was as long as we were producing, but after the crops were in, and until we could start on the next one, we just got by the best way we could.

Mama canned all of the food that she could, and Daddy hunted, but when in the dead of winter, and the canned stuff ran out, and Daddy couldn't hunt because he had no bullets, things got pretty rough. With nine people to feed, what we had didn't go very far.

This one particular time, we were down to a little flour and lard, left over from a long period of meals, consisting of nothing but gravy and biscuits. So now, here we were with not really enough for one more meal, and it had been a long, long, time since our last one.

I watched Mama and Daddy as they stood in the kitchen, whispering intensely, Daddy, seemingly, trying hard to convince Mama of something, and Mama, obviously distraught, resisting adamantly. Finally, some agreement must have been reached between the two of them, with Daddy the victor, because he went around for the rest of the day, smiling and happy, but Mama looked extremely miserable, and quite a bit nervous.

I remember getting into bed that night-- which in itself, was hard to do, because sleeping with three others, it was quite an accomplishment, just to find a place to get into -- and I was so hungry. I just laid there thinking of food. Wishing I had some. Anything. I even thought of all the stuff I hated, like slimy boiled okra, and wished I had some of that.

I finally drifted off to sleep, with visions of tables and tables, loaded with food, in my head, and a painful, growling, feeling of emptiness in my stomach.

I could hear Daddy's voice, pulling me unwillingly, back to physical awareness. "Great Goodness! What in the world? You young'uns get up, and see what's here! Great day in the mornin', Mama, where you reckon this come from?"

Was I dreaming? Or was that really chicken and dumplings I smelled? No, it was real -- I could smell that wonderful aroma -- and daddy kept saying, "Get up, get up! Get up and eat, unless you want me to eat it all up!"

Oh, how scrumptious did those chicken and dumplings taste! There it was, two or three o'clock in the morning, and there we sat, eating chicken and dumplings, enthusiastically! Everyone except Mama, that is, who looked very pale, and more than a little nervous --which really amused Daddy, because every time he looked at her, he would get so tickled that he would burst out laughing, so loud, and so hard, that he could hardly stop.

I was too hungry, and too busy eating to try to figure it out then, but Mama told me a long time after that what it was all about.

Daddy, she told me, had been worried about us because we hadn't had much to eat for so long, so he had finally figured out a solution to the problem, although temporary. He had decided that since the man we worked for had so much, and wasn't concerned at all about whether we had anything, that it wouldn't really be stealing if he relieved him of a couple of his chickens. Now to do this, he had to enlist Mama's help, which is what all the intense whispering had been about.

He had instructed her, over and over, what to do. They would wait until late into the night, until everyone would be sure to be asleep. Then they would go across the field, up the little hill to the chicken house, and inside, where Daddy would take a hen, hand it to Mama, and then he would take one, They would make a very quiet exit, down the hill, across the field, and back home again.

He had cautioned her, throughout the day, to hold the hen in such a way that it couldn't squawk, and whatever she did, not to make any noise, which would make the whole hen house to start squawking and cackling, which would alert the owner, who, although not very generous with his food, would be very generous with a load of buckshot.

All went well for awhile. Across the field, in the pitch-blackness of night, up the hill, into the chicken house. Daddy handed Mama a hen, whispered to her to hold it so that it didn't squawk, got one for himself, and they were making their very quiet exit, when Mama kicked over a bucket, which created utter chaos!

Mama started running as fast and as hard as she could, while still holding onto the chicken. It was so dark, and she was so scared, that she sort of lost her sense of direction, missing the field, and going through the corn patch, instead. Which further added to her humiliation, because after that, every time Daddy told it, he would tell how Mama had torn up the corn patch.

"It just beat all I ever seen" he'd say. "Mama goin' through that corn patch! I'm tellin' you, she just tore it right up!"

But that wasn't all. When she did get home with the chicken, it was dead. Mama had held on so tightly, that she had strangled it to death. "Oh," she said, "When I got home and saw that poor old dead chicken I was just mortified!"

So now do you see why I can't eat chicken and dumplings without remembering Mama's mortification?


Behold, the eye of the LORD is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy;
To deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul waiteth for the LORD: he is our help and our shield.
For our heart shall rejoice in him, because we have trusted in his holy name.
Let thy mercy, O LORD, be upon us, according as we hope in thee.

Psalm 33:18-22
KJC

Of Shoes And Purses

There's just something about me, and shoes...I like them. Shoes and purses. Mama always told me that when I was a little girl, that I would choose a purse over any toy, including dolls. When asked what I wanted Santa to bring me, my answer would be, " A puhse"--I couldn't pronounce it correctly at that tender age, but I sure knew what they were, and I loved them! Even now, when I find a pair of shoes that I really, really like, I will buy them in different colors. Females are strange critters, I know, and we are blessed, indeed, if we can find a man wonderful enough to put up with our strange ways, and not only that, but to be a real help in any situation.

For instance, several years ago, when my husband worked at the Kennedy Space Center, we lived there, right on Indian River, across from where they launched the shuttles. It's beautiful there, but it is so hot and humid, that it sometimes it makes just ordinary tasks seem nearly impossible--and oh, yes, I do have a "for instance" about that, too.

One evening our church took all the young people to a skating rink, which I loved, because I always loved skating. We all were having a great time, gliding around the rink, doing our special little moves. Except that I suddenly wasn't really gliding, more like stumbling along. I realized that one of the wheels on my skates was not functioning properly, and decided to go to the changing room for another pair.

I was easing myself across the carpet, when I suddenly felt myself falling, headlong, with no way to stop myself. I fell like a ton of bricks, with my left hand taking the full brunt of the fall. It was bent backwards, with the tops of my fingers, touching my arm. The pain was so intense that I couldn't move. It seems that there had been a hole in the carpet, and the wheel of my skate rolled right into it, throwing me forward.

Needless to say, I was in the hospital for five days, having undergone surgery, to instill five pins in my wrist, hand, and arm. My wrist was broken in eight places, and the bone in my lower arm was broken in two places.

I don't have to tell you what a predicament that put me in, as far as trying to do things for myself, such as getting dressed. I had a cast from my wrist, all the way up to my arm pit.

The worst times were when I would try to get dressed for church, because being the prim and proper little lady that I am, I wouldn't have dreamed of going to church without wearing pantyhose! And just by the way, have any of you ever tried pulling on a pair of pantyhose with one hand, over legs covered with perspiration from all the humidity, that not even air conditioning going full blast would remedy? And did you ever have to have your husband do the deed for you, while instructing him how to roll them up, position them over your (wet) toes. slowly, and carefully unrolling them up the entire length of your (wet) legs, keeping them straight, so that the seam of the panty part of them would be in the right place? And when it wasn't, pulling and manipulating them, until it was, almost, but not quite? Well, let me tell you, by the time it was over, we would both just about be in tears--of frustration if it turned out to be a long struggle. But, oh the joy when it went well, and we had plenty of time to get my shoes on, and to church on time.

One of those times, when things had gone well, we so enjoyed our time at church--sitting through the service, singing in the choir, a potluck dinner at church, There was only one hitch to that wonderful day! Just as we were going in the door, back at home, I looked down to see--yep, you guessed it! My two feet, each with a shoe exactly like the other, except for one little thing. Each shoe was a different color! Even now, I'm almost embarrassed to think about it, but that's what I get for buying the same shoe in different colors! My husband tried to console me, saying that no one had even noticed. I asked him if he had, and he said, "Well, yeah, but not until it was almost time to come home."

I still don't know if anyone else noticed it, but my only consolation is that if they did, they have forgotten it by now. Sure wish I could.

In case you're wondering, I have another little anecdote about shoes, and if you'd like to hear about that one, too, just let me know, and I will be happy to humiliate myself again, just for you, my dear, dear readers.

An American Without Reserve

An American Without Reserve
by Daniel Webster

I was born an American; I live an American; I shall die an American; and I intend to perform the duties incumbent upon me in that character to the end of my career. I mean to do this with absolute disregard of personal consequences.

What are the personal consequences? What is the individual man, with all the good or evil that may betide him, in comparison with the good or evil which may befall a great country, and in the midst of great transactions which concern that country's fate?

Let the consequences be what they will, I am careless. No man can suffer too much, and no man can fall too soon, if he suffer, or if he fall, in the defense of the liberties and constitution of his country.


In spite of everything that's going on in our great country right now, I know that there are still those who echo those very words of Daniel Webster, and have within their hearts, a commitment to do whatever is required to preserve the freedoms for which so many have sacrificed and died.

It is easy to become discouraged, when all around us we see those freedoms slipping away, but I have to believe in my own heart that there are more like the men I just mentioned, than those like the person who wrote these words on a blog I just read:

"And Happy Fourth of July to all nihilists out there. Burn a flag for Obama tomorrow."

When I read such things, it only makes me more thankful for the men and women who truly love and respect this great country of ours, and even more determined that people like the one who wrote those hateful words will never have their way in destroying what we have.

Happy Independence Day to everyone!

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

The Bill Of No Rights

The Bill of No Rights

"We, the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid any more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt-free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great-grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt-ridden, deluded, and other liberal bed-wetters. We hold these truths to be self-evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim that they require a Bill of No Rights."

ARTICLE I:
You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything.

ARTICLE II:
You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone — not just you! You may leave the room, change the channel, or express a different opinion, but the world is full of idiots, and probably always will be.

ARTICLE III:
You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful, do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy.

ARTICLE IV:
You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found, and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes.

ARTICLE V:
You do not have the right to free health care That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care.

ARTICLE VI:
You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you fry in the electric chair.

ARTICLE VII:
You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure.

ARTICLE VIII:
You don't have the right to demand that our children risk their lives in foreign wars to soothe your aching conscience. We hate oppressive governments and won't lift a finger to stop you from going to fight if you'd like. However, we do not enjoy parenting the entire world and do not want to spend so much of our time battling each and every little tyrant with a military uniform and a funny hat.

ARTICLE IX:
You don't have the right to a job. Sure, all of us want all of you to have one, and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful.

ARTICLE X:
You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to pursue happiness — which, by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an overabundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights.


The famed "Bill of No Rights" was written in 1993 by Bill Napper, a self-described amateur philosopher. He is from Mississippi, and ran for a U.S. Senate seat in 2000, as a Libertarian.

It is said that it resonates with a number of issues, including the one which most often causes our ire to rise, which is the sense of entitlement, so prevalent in today's society.

Unfortunately, the ones whom Mr. Napper had in mind when he wrote this, will probably never read it.

I originally posted this on January 03, 2008

Happy Father's Day

"Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honour thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise; That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth. And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:1-4 KJV)

Daddy

~The following is a repost, which I first posted in August of 2007~

Maybe some of you, who read that last post, thought that I wrote it about me. It could have been written for a lot of people, I know, but I wrote it, thinking of Mama and Daddy.

You know, I told you about how she, and my real father, had been divorced when I was just a baby, and then when I was eight years old, she remarried.

From the very first time I saw him, I began calling him Daddy...and that's what he was to me, always, no matter what.

Daddy had been born and raised on Sand Mountain. Many of you could never imagine the kind of existence that entailed. Not only for himself, but for just about anyone in those days. It was pure, abject poverty, lived out by those uneducated, and certainly no resources which may be acquired nowadays.

Daddy was uneducated, his daddy was, and I'm sure it was that way back through all the generations of his family.

I knew my step-grandfather for only a short time. He died a few years after Mama and Daddy married. I'm not sure, exactly about his character, per se, as to the kind of worker he was, as far as trying to provide for his family.

He was a tall, handsome man, even in his later years. It seems that all of the men in that family were exceptionally handsome, especially when they were younger. I think he was well aware of that, too...being handsome, I mean.

Living out in the country, which is where everyone there lived, not many of them ever venturing into the small town, other than to pick up a few things that they might need, such as tobacco, or a few commodities. That's what I meant about not knowing his character. Most folks tried to farm, and grow most of the food they needed, or raised hogs, or cattle, if they could, but I don't think he did much of that.

I don't know about many of those details, but I know that it would have been during the depression, or there-abouts, that Daddy would have been growing up. Times would have been tough all over, and it would have been a struggle for survival for most folks.

That isn't all that made it hard on Daddy, though. He was horribly abused by his father. He had been a harsh, and cruel man, who was a bootlegger. So maybe, that is how he got by, but from what Daddy said, he drank as much of it as he sold. Not only that, but he gave it to Daddy to drink when he was only a child. Daddy said that he got drunk for the first time when he was three years old on "white lightening."

His father beat him, not always for any good reason. It was not in the way that one normally thinks of in the way of punishment for a child's innocent misbehavior. It was with fists, or a wooden chair, and once, he said that he woke up from unconciousness, with rain dripping onto his face from the roof. He had been knocked unconcious with a two-by-four-- trying to defend his mama from his daddy --and dragged over there by the side of the house. He finally left home, and married at fifteen years of age.

Maybe, that's why he always drank, and no matter how hard he tried, he never got to the place where he could stop. Oh, it wasn't a matter of drinking every single day, but when he did drink, it would be for four or five days straight. I think he just had too many demons, too much torment, from memories that never left him.

I told you all this because, even as bad as that was, Daddy still had a big heart. He would give you the shirt off his back, and as I have said before, he was a very proud man. He wouldn't accept anything that he couldn't repay, and he was a hard worker. Right after he married Mama, about a year later, we moved to another town, and he was hired at the local Army facility in that town. He didn't make a lot of money as a laborer, but it kept a roof over our heads, and food on the table. We moved around a lot, around town, but it was never into anything better than what we were moving out of, but he always thought so, and took pride in that.

The only thing was, that Daddy still had that same mentality, prevalent in his own dad. He was handsome, and he knew it, and even though he loved Mama--in his own way, and as much as he was capable of loving anyone-- he went out with other women. Not only that, but he thought that it was his right to do so. And he did it often, sometimes leaving Mama, and staying with the other woman for days, and at one time, months at a time.

Once, he told Mama this story about going deep-sea fishing in Florida, and was supposed to meet the guy he was going with over at his house. He never asked her to go along on these jaunts, and never even asked if it was alright with her if he was going to be gone for a week. She was a woman, and he was a man --that's just the way it was.

What he didn't know, is that she was suspicious, and had a pretty good idea where he was headed, which was a few blocks from their house. As soon as he left in his car, she left on foot, and sure enough, when she got there, there he stood out in the yard, practicing his casting with his rod and reel.

Just about the same time that he spotted her, the other woman stepped outside, and Mama tackled her like a linebacker! They rolled all over the yard, across the sidewalk, and right out into the street. A city bus had pulled up and stopped, and the passengers were cheering her on, like crazy!

Finally, Daddy got Mama off of her, and told her to get home, and he would be right behind her. She left, but he didn't go right behind her. He and the other woman went on their fishing trip to Florida. Daddy brought back pictures, showing all the big fish he caught, but many of them, which were taken of the two of them, had one side torn away, and had only Daddy standing there with his big grin and his prize catch.

I'm sure that some of you may be wondering how I could still feel so much affection for him, seeing as how he had treated my mother like that. All I can say is that he loved me from the start, he was always good to me, and treated me with respect, and I loved him...he was my Daddy.

I asked Mama once, after I was grown, why she had married him, and why did she stay with him. Her answer was simple, and from the heart. "Because I love him, Janice...I always did, and I always will."

Love covers a multitude of sins.

*While reading this again, I was reminded of something which I think is very important, and says a lot about the character of my sweet little Mama.

Several years after this event took place, the "other woman" came to Mama and asked her forgiveness. She had become a Christian, and wanted to make things right. When Mama told me about it, I asked her if she had forgiven her. She replied, "Well, sure I did, Janice. If she asked God for forgiveness, and He forgave her, who was I, not to?"

Oh, Mama, what a precious treasure you were!

It is interesting to note, that the three of them, eventually, belonged to the same church, and the woman and my mother became good friends. One day, while going through her pictures, after her death, I came across several pictures of them together, looking so happy, and having a great time at one of the church's "dinner on the ground."

For those of you not familiar with that pharase, it is simply a potluck meal eaten outside, usually after the church service, and sometimes, between church services.

It's always a great time of fellowship, and sometimes, it is "Singing, with dinner on the ground."

Precious memories.

Our Labor Is Not In Vain

I will rejoice and be glad in Your lovingkindness, Because You have seen my affliction; You have known the troubles of my soul.
Psalm 31:7

You have seen it, for You have beheld mischief and vexation to take it into Your hand. The unfortunate commits himself to You; You have been the helper of the orphan.
Psalm 10:14

"Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, for you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."
I Corinthians 15:58

It Will Never Make Sense To Me

This is something that just keeps going round and round in my mind, and I am having a hard time coming to terms with it.

There has been much discussion about the pros and cons of "water boarding" and whether or not it constitutes "torture." Also, of great concern are the "rights" of the recipients of the water boarding technique.

I know what the word "torture" means, as defined by a dictionary, and I know what the word conjures up in my own mind. What I really don't understand is what the difference might be if a "terrorist" is tortured by the water boarding method, as compared to an abortion, and especially, a partial-birth abortion performed on an innocent fetus, in terms of suffering.

Maybe what I'm really trying to reconcile in my own mind, is how the opponents of water boarding, who vehemently protest the cruelty of it, and diligently pursue "justice" and "protection of civil rights" for the recipients of it, justify the pain and suffering endured by the innocents who have done nothing, but are tortured in the most inhumane way during an abortion--while at the same time loudly protesting the mistreatment of some very bad people intent on killing us, one and all.

I looked up a few things about both subjects. Perhaps, you will tell me what you think, after we compare the two.

Water Boarding

Water boarding as it is currently described involves strapping a person to an inclined board, with his feet raised and his head lowered. The interrogators bind the person's arms and legs so he can't move at all, and they cover his face. In some descriptions, the person is gagged, and some sort of cloth covers his nose and mouth; in others, his face is wrapped in cellophane. The interrogator then repeatedly pours water onto the person's face. Depending on the exact setup, the water may or may not actually get into the person's mouth and nose; but the physical experience of being underneath a wave of water seems to be secondary to the psychological experience. The person's mind believes he is drowning, and his gag reflex kicks in as if he were choking on all that water falling on his face.

Pain In The Unborn

“The neural pathways are present for pain to be experienced quite early by unborn babies.”– Steven Calvin, perinatologist, University of Minnesota

An unborn child at 20 weeks gestation “is fully capable of experiencing pain... Without question, [abortion] is a dreadfully painful experience for any infant subjected to such a surgical procedure.”– Robert J. White, MD., Ph.D. professor of neurosurgery, Case Western Reserve University

“At 20 weeks, the fetal brain has the full complement of brain cells present in adulthood, ready and waiting to receive pain signals from the body, and their electrical activity can be be recorded by standard electroencephalography (EEG)”– Dr. Paul Ranalli, neurologist, University of Toronto

An unborn child has less legal protection from feeling pain than commercial livestock.

In a slaughterhouse, a method of slaughter is deemed legally humane only if “all animals are rendered insensible to pain by a single blow or gunshot or an electrical,chemical, or other means that is rapid and effective, before being shackled, hoisted,thrown, cast, or cut.” (Section 2 of the Humane Slaughter Act, 7 USC 1902).By contrast, D&E abortions, performed as late as 24 weeks (well after the child begins to feel pain), involve the dismemberment of the unborn child by a pair of sharp metal forceps.(9) Instillation methods of abortion (performed even in the third trimester) involve the replacement of up to one cup of amniotic fluid with a concentrated salt solution, which the unborn child inhales as the salt burns her skin.The child lives in this condition for up to an hour. In neither of these techniques is the unborn child provided with any form of anesthesia(1013)
http://www.nrlc.org/abortion/Fetal_Pain/FetalPain091604.pdf

Robert George writes in his essay, "Obama and His Pro-Life Apologists," something rather thought provoking:

"President Obama knows that an unborn baby is human. He knows that the blood shed by the abortionist’s knife is human blood, that the bones broken are human bones. He does not deny that the baby whom nurse Jill Stanek discovered gasping for breath in a soiled linen bin after a failed attempt to end her life by abortion, was a human baby. Even in opposing the Illinois Born-Alive Infants Protection Act, which was designed to assure that such babies were rescued if possible or at least given comfort care while they died, Barack Obama did not deny the humanity of the child. What he denied, and continues to deny, is the fundamental equality of that child—equality with those of us who are safely born and accepted into the human community."

The sad part of all of this, is that the President is not the only one who persists in defending the rights of the women who choose to abort, and the abortionists, but sadder, still, is the fact that they all put more value on the well-being, and lives of a terrorist, than they do on an innocent little child who has no one to come to his defense as a human being with the right to live.

Is water boarding worse than being burned alive, poisoned, or torn to pieces?

I am not saying that I like, or condone, anyone, or anything, having to suffer pain and agony. I am just having a hard time accepting that there are actually people who think that some lives are more valuable than others, or, at least, are willing to take that stand for political gain.

It will never make sense to me.

*The above post was written last Saturday, to be published on Sunday. I decided not to post it on Sunday because of the content, and decided to wait until Monday. Of course, we all know what happened Sunday morning--Dr. Tiller, the late term abortion doctor was shot and killed while he was attending church. That, in itself, is a tragedy. It is nothing to rejoice over, no matter what one's opinion concerning abortion happens to be, pro, or con. However, it seems that some have chosen to use it, politically, to condemn all those not in agreement with their own point of view, and in anticipation of this heinous act furthering the cause of pro choice advocates.

The President has condemned this horrible act, as of course, he should. However, there is something else to be considered here, as well. Again, it comes right back to which life is more valuable than another.

On Monday, two young soldiers, only recently having finished basic training, were gunned down in cold blood in front of a recruiting office in Little Rock, Arkansas. One died, and the other was seriously wounded. They were shot by another American, recently converted to Islam, for no other reason than the fact that he hated the military, and Americans for what he thought they had done to Muslims.

That act was just as heinous as the one who took the life of Dr. Tiller, yet I have heard no public condemnation, no pubic outcry.

So, what does this mean?

That the lives of these young soldiers who had committed to die for the citizens of this country, no matter the religion, color, or creed, is less valuable than the life of someone who is committed to assisting citizens in ending the lives of unborn babies? That murder matters only when it happens to some individuals, and not to others? It all depends on who commits the murder, or is murdered?

Equality? Who is making that determination, and what does it mean, in terms of humanity?

Ironically, I'm sure that all involved in the two incidences--the doctor, his killer, and the Muslim convert, all believed that they were doing the right thing.

It is still making my mind go round and round, and I just don't get it.

As I said before, it will never make sense to me.

God help us all...obviously, nobody else can.

"There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death."

Proverbs 16:25
KJV

Something To Think About

The most useless thing to do......Worry

The greatest Joy......Giving


The greatest loss......Loss of self respect


The most satisfying work......Helping others


The ugliest personality trait......Selfishness


The most endangered species......Dedicated leaders


The greatest "shot in the arm"......Encouragement


The greatest problem to overcome......Fear


Most effective sleeping pill......Peace of mind


The most crippling failure disease......Excuses


The most powerful force in life......Love


The most dangerous pariah......A Gossiper


The world's most incredible computer......The brain!


The worst thing to be without......Hope


The deadliest weapon......The tongue


The two most power-filled words......"I Can"


The greatest asset......Faith


The most worthless emotion......Self pity


The most prized possession......Integrity


The most beautiful attire......A smile


The most powerful channel of communication......Prayer


The most contagious spirit......Enthusiasm


The most important thing in life......God

I know a lot of people don't agree on that last one....but a lot of people do!

~Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.~
Philippians 4:8
KJV

Now..More Than Ever

So much has been said and written on this special day.

Really, there are no words that can adequately convey what this day stands for, nor the importance of remembering what it stands for.

I had many uncles who fought in past wars.

A husband.

A father-in-law.

Thank God they didn't have to lose their lives, but they would have been willing, if it had come to that--and to an uncle, and my father-in-law, it was close, as they both received nearly mortal wounds.

The wounds that my husband received are not apparent, physically, but they are deep within his heart, and psyche, and he will never forget what he went through in Viet Nam, and he will never feel the same again, about a lot of things.

We have been so blessed in this country, and for too long we have taken it so much for granted. Today, as we see many of the freedoms that our loved ones, friends, neighbors, and perfect strangers, fought for, and died for, slipping away, it is very important that we determine to never allow their sacrifices to have been in vain.

Now, more than ever, it is so important that we stand up for what we believe in, to hold on to what we still have, with everything we've got, for as long as it takes, to assure that it will never be taken from us by anyone, for any reason.

The cost for what we have has been too great, and that is something that we should never forget!

Dirt Roads

What's mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.

There's not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn't be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.

People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride.

That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it's worth it, if at the end is home...a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.

We wouldn't have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along.

There was less crime in our streets before they were paved.

Criminals didn't walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they'd be welcomed by 5 barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun.

And there were no drive by shootings.

Our values were better when our roads were worse!

People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn't tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks.

Dirt Roads taught patience.

Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn't hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk.

For your mail, you walked to the mail box.

What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy's shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.

At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.

Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole.

At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn't some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini.

At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you'd have to hitch up a team and pull them out.

Usually you got a dollar...always you got a new friend...at the end of a Dirt Road!
~by Paul Harvey

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

There was a Chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class. One day while the class was in the lab, the Prof noticed one young man (exchange student) who kept rubbing his back, and stretching as if his back hurt.

The professor asked the young man what was the matter. The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist government.

In the midst of his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange question. He asked, ' Do you know how to catch wild pigs?'

The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said this was no joke.

"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. The pigs find it, and begin to come every day to eat the free corn. When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming. When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again, and you put up another side of the fence. They get used to that, and start to eat again. You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side. The pigs, who are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat, and you slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd.

Suddenly, the wild pigs have lost their freedom. They run around and around inside the fence, but they are caught. Soon they go back to eating the free corn. They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."

The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening to America. The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops(CRP), welfare, medicine, drugs, free medical, etc., while we continually lose our freedoms - just a little at a time.


I don't know about you, but just reading these words gives me an unconfortable feeling, because as bad as it is now, it is getting worse, and who knows what the coming election will bring? No matter how hard I try, or how positive I try to be, I just cannot believe in the great change that the current presidential candidates, and those endorsing them, are trying to convince us is possible if only he or she is elected. All I can feel--with all that they are promising-- is that any change is going to be for the worse rather than for the better. Maybe, it's because I'm just a pessimist, always expecting the worst--but maybe it is a 'gut-feeling' which is very seldom ever wrong. None of the presidential candidates are miracle workers--this much I know for sure.

Maybe we would all do well to remember that there really is no such thing as a free lunch.

A government big enough to give you everything you want, is big enough to take away everything you have.

~Thomas Jefferson

*I posted the above way back in February of 2008, long before the election. From the looks of things now, I wasn't too far off in my predictions of things to come, but I had no idea that it would come this far, this fast.

Installing Love

Tech Support: Yes, ... how can I help you?

Customer: Well, after much consideration, I've decided to install Love. Can you guide me through the process?

Tech Support: Yes. I can help you. Are you ready to proceed?

Customer: Well, I'm not very technical, but I think I'm ready. What do I do first?

Tech Support: The first step is to open your Heart. Have you located your Heart?

Customer: Yes, but there are several other programs running now. Is it okay to install Love while they are running?

Tech Support: What programs are running ?

Customer: Let's see, I have Past Hurt, Low Self-Esteem, Grudge and Resentment running right now.

Tech Support: No problem, Love will gradually erase Past Hurt from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory but it will no longer disrupt other programs. Love will eventually override Low Self-Esteem with a module of its own called High Self-Esteem. However, you have to completely turn off Grudge and Resentment. Those programs prevent Love from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ?

Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?

Tech Support: With pleasure. Go to your start menu and invoke Forgiveness. Do this as many times as necessary until Grudge and Resentment have been completely erased.

Customer: Okay, done! Love has started installing itself. Is that normal? Tech Support: Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other Hearts in order to get the upgrades.

Customer: Oops! I have an error message already. It says, "Error - Program not run on external components." What should I do?

Tech Support: Don't worry. It means that the Love program is set up to run on Internal Hearts, but has not yet been run on your Heart. In non-technical terms, it simply means you have to Love yourself before you can Love others.

Customer: So, what should I do?

Tech Support: Pull down Self-Acceptance; then click on the following files: Forgive-Self; Realize Your Worth; and Acknowledge your Limitations.

Customer: Okay, done.

Tech Support: Now, copy them to the "My Heart" directory. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching faulty programming. Also, you need to delete Verbose Self-Criticism from all directories and empty your Recycle Bin to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.

Customer: Got it. Hey! My heart is filling up with new files. Smile is playing on my monitor and Peace and Contentment are copying themselves all over My Heart. Is this normal?


Tech Support: Sometimes. For others it takes awhile, but eventually everything gets it at the proper time. So Love is installed and running. One more thing before we hang up. Love is Freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everyone you meet. They will in turn share it with others and return some cool modules back to you.

Customer: Thank you, God.

Show Me Your Faith

I was thinking recently about religion, and the personal beliefs and convictions held by some--beliefs and convictions which to those holding them, are as natural as breathing, but may seem bizarre to others.

In the various religions that I have read about, heard about, and experienced at one time or another, they have been as normal and practical as anyone could want, and others have been somewhat confusing, as far as what they preached and practiced. Others, which I must admit were more "read about" than personally experienced, seem downright bizarre, and scary, but when it comes to personal convictions, they are just that--personal. To each his own, and far be it from me to try to change them. I know what I believe, and what my personal convictions are, and I don't want anyone trying to change them for me, either.

One of the strangest of these various religions that I have heard about involve the snake handlers, which are mostly found in Appalachia, and particularly around Sand Mountain, in North Alabama, where I lived for awhile as a little girl, and then again for awhile, years later.

A few years ago, I became interested in a case involving a preacher, Reverend Glenn Summerford, the pastor of a church whose members believed in, and practiced the ritual of "taking up serpents" or snake handling. At the time, there were at least three churches on Sand Mountain which practiced it. It seems that the pastor became suspicious of his wife, and according to reports, forced her hand into a box full of rattlesnakes until she was bitten. He was convicted of attempted manslaughter, and sentenced to 99 years in prison.

As bizarre as all this sounds, the people who practice snake handling are not crazy, but very dedicated in their adherence to practicing what they believe, and this belief is based on a verse of scripture found in Mark 16:17-18 which says:"And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick and they shall recover."

They are fervent in their belief, and they take this scripture, literally. They feel that if their faith is strong enough that they will not be bitten, and if they are, that it will not kill them. As strange as it may seem, there have been but few deaths in all the churches which practice snake handling, and when it happens, they believe it was because their faith was not strong enough, or that they had not waited until the Lord moved on them.

There are laws in most states, other than Georgia and West Virginia, which prohibit the practice, with small fines, but they are not usually enforced because it is seen as a religious practice, and that is, after all, what all the hue and cry is about lately--freedom to practice any religion we choose. I guess it just depends on which side of the fence you're on when it comes to something like this--whether you approve, or disapprove.

I've wondered, since some are requesting special areas for foot washing to satisfy followers of Islam, if they will have to start providing sections containing cages of rattlesnakes in public areas, too--you know, so that those who like to handle serpents can practice their beliefs? And don't forget the religion that is based on smoking marijuana, or the one which sacrifices chickens, or the one...oh, I know, I know this is beginning to sound ridiculous, but I was trying to make a point, which is that we do have freedom of religion in this country, and freedom of speech, but political correctness is going to have to draw the line, somewhere.

I know, exactly, where I'd like it to start, but for me to say would not be politically correct.

~But someone may well say, "You have faith and I have works; show me your faith
without the works, and I will show you my faith by my works."

James 2:18
New American Standard Bible

Forest Gump In Heaven

I have discovered since I started blogging that there are an awful lot of differing opinions on here, and on just about any subject. I get a few of them in my comments, and I try to allow each one to express his, or her opinion, while hoping all the time that no one will get too offended, or get their feelings hurt. I try to express my own opinion as tactfully as possible, and with as much sensitivity as the topic allows, but I am not sure that I always succeed.

The thing that surprises me, is how something can be viewed from so many perspectives, and yet each person feels, adamantly, that they are right. I am not speaking of those commenters to my blog, particularly, but of the myriad of blogs found on here--the bloggers and their commenters.

Forrest Gump in Heaven

Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven. He is met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself. The gates are closed, however, and Forrest approaches the gatekeeper. St. Peter says "Well, Forrest, it's certainly good to see you. We have heard so many good things about you. I must inform you that the place is filling up fast, and we've been giving an entrance quiz for everyone. The tests are short, but you need to pass before you can get into Heaven.

Forrest responds "It sure is good to be here, St. Peter. I was looking forward to this. Nobody ever told me about any entrance exam. Sure hope the test ain't too hard; Life was a big enough test as it was.

St. Peter goes on, "I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions: -- What days of the week begin with the letter T? -- How many seconds are there in a year? --What is God's first name?"

Forrest goes away to think the questions over. He returns the next day and goes up to St. Peter to try to answer the exam questions.

St. Peter waves him up and says "Now that you have had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers."

Forrest says, "Well, the first one how many days of the week begin with the letter "T?"

"Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow."

The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims "Forrest! That's not what I was thinking, but.....you do have a point though, and I guess I didn't specify, so I will give you credit for that answer."

"How about the next one?" "How many seconds in a year?"

"Now that one's harder" says Forrest, "but I thought and thought about that and I guess the only answer can be twelve."

Astounded, St. Peter says "Twelve! Twelve! Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"

Forest says "Aw, come on, St. Peter, there's gotta be twelve: January second, February second, March second. . . "

"Hold it" interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going with it. I guess I see your point, though that wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I'll give you credit for that one too.

Let's go on with the next and final question. Can you tell me God's first name?"

Forrest replied, "Andy."

When St. Peter asked how in the world he came up with the name Andy, Forrest replied, "You know, St. Peter, that song we sing in church: "Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me."

The lesson: THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW, and just because another person doesn't see things the same way or understand the same way that you do, does not mean that it's wrong.

Author Unknown

*Now, I know that this story is meant to be humorous, and I can go along with that last paragraph to a degree, but when it comes to certain things, such as how one treats another, or if they live life in such a way that it is offensive and harmful to another, I will have to stick to my own personal convictions.

There are elements of society, violating the laws, trampling on the rights of others, causing general havoc and chaos, all the while feeling that they are right, entitled, and have a perfect right to do so. And there are those who stand behind them, encouraging them to demand those rights. That's just wrong, their point of view is wrong, and they will never accept another point of view.

In light of this, I can never agree that just because their view, or understanding is different, does not make it wrong. It is true that many things we can overlook, and agree to disagree, and even laugh about, but on certain issues there is just no middle ground.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if there were more Forrest Gumps in the world?