Sunday, August 2, 2015

Sunday Post: Studying God's Word

[Sorry about the video size. I can't figure out how to squish it down.]

I enjoy the traditional hymns best, don’t you?

My memory is getting atrocious. It was someone else’s pearls of wisdom that prompted this post otherwise there would be first a credit for this inspiration.

Paraphrasing, I’m sure, but here goes: “It is better to listen to God first before prayer.”

I know that’s rather simplistic but truth usually is.

In other words, it is better to READ God's Word than to talk excessively AT Him making requests, therefore ignoring His voice. Reading His Word faithfully is one of my many failings. I’m too busy, too tired, too bored, too distracted, too hungry and plethora of other excuses. I am proficient at submitting requests to our tolerant Lord or to pray for others. That’s easy. Make no mistake, though, prayer is key to one of our many wondrous, privileged communications with our loving Saviour. I hope I’m learning that it’s equally, maybe more so, important to listen to Him speak to me first before making my wishes known. Especially since I tend to get the wrong end of the stick in many situations.

So since there are no more burning bushes or pillars of smoke or tablets of stone to guide us, in this “present evil age” [Galatians 1:4] He has chosen to speak to us through His written Word. And the Word was “made flesh” [John 1:14] in our Lord Jesus Christ. Reading His Word is to listen to Jesus talk to us, and therein lays peace. This truth is revealed numerous times in His Holy Word.

Be as the Bereans and “search the Word daily to see if it is so”. [Acts 17:11]

I hope that makes sense. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of reading to do. :)

"Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth."
[II Timothy 2:15] NKJV

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Mischievous Country Wickedness

We suffered a mild vandalism last night. Our house sits 350' from the dirt road on almost 7 acres of tranquility. Many years ago, I had an electric gate, lights, etc. installed at the entrance to insure privacy. And because I try to always exhibit community pride, there are pretty decorations and flowers meant to please all who pass by.

It’s my little Corner of Zen and a friendly wave to all.

Last evening someone on a UTV (like a 4 wheeler but can seat 2 or more) tore my husband’s hand painted bird gourd down, flinging it with great force at the gate entrance. Then proceeded to leave 3 beer cans and container. Thank heavens the Carolina Wren's are done nesting or I would have went ballistic in every Irish sense of the word and sought the villains out to do unspeakable things to their body parts. I still was SO ANGRY at first but have pretty much calmed down since. I don't think we were singled out but still feel a little violated. 

I get asked sometimes as to why we're not friends with many of the neighbors. This is why. I dislike saying it, but my impression of the reason many that live in the country are here because they're losers. These fish eyed mental midgets can't cut it in a neighborhood where one must be civil or suffer the consequences. I pick up the leavings of their dull, zero purpose lives almost daily on our walks.

This event has helped me to finally decide to call Mr. B. to install security cameras that has been discussed in days past. I dislike going this route but it looks like this may be our only option. Catch the perp’ on camera. Call the police. Let them handle it. Well, I call them police, in the loosest sense of the word. Just between you, me and the fence post, the local law force is more like the Keystone Cops. Good luck with that, right?!

If we go that route, I'll be sure to share a post that guarantees to be imbued with snarky comments and all. Right now, I pray that the pen is mightier than the sword.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Throw Back Thursday: 1973 Titusville Florida

May 1973
Astronaut High School Junior-Senior Prom

This is a scanned image of an old, worn polaroid of your's truly and my first boyfriend, Bill Anderson, in Titusville, Florida. I don't remember the dance but I'm sure it was enjoyable. The early '70s where still a time of innocence for America. It was also a time of fantastic music that still lives on today. Anyway, I remember Bill as a gentle, kind hearted, jolly, generous fellow. The following year we went our separate ways but I always think fondly of our time together. Time has obscured the reasons for the split. We both went on to marry good, loving people and have productive happy lives.

My step-mom, Myra, made the dress. She made almost all my clothes. Myra was so talented, she could have been a professional seamstress. I learned a lot about sewing from her for which I am eternally grateful.

Hope your day is blessed.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

What Dreams May Come

It was in the ethereal world of sensations, ideals and memories when I dreamed about her last night.

I was back in the town where I grew up. In the succession of confused, smokey images, I was running from yard to yard yelling her name, “Maxie! Maaaaxxxxiiiiiiieeeee!” Then mumbling in my snarky way, “Where are you you stupid little dog!” Hunting everywhere for my little girl. Getting more and more frantic. A sudden, overpowering fear. Alas, she was nowhere to be found! I lost her. I awoke teary eyed with the realization that she is gone. Never to return to this Earthly plane.

It’s been almost two years since she succumbed to the ravages of Cushings Disease. Why dream about her now? Perhaps it’s because the family is in turmoil. Or because we daily learn that blameless babies are being chopped up and body parts sold with a sanction by the government. Could be the ear infection I have right now. Or how the food prices keep going up, and our tiny annuity keeps going down. It seems to never end. In my heart I must be searching for that little security blanket wrapped in grey fur that would sit in my lap, to make that caused discomfiture go away. That’s what Maxie did. She had that gift. Whenever I felt unhappy, unloved, frightened, or unsettled, she would make the bad evaporate. Her joyful innocence for life brought contentment that would always affect my countenance positively. She was a ray of sunshine on four legs. I really miss fuzzy britches.

Well, because I know that life is important, I must soldier on.  This is not a single human incident embedded in a sea of souls with perfect lives. Everyone has their sack of rocks to carry. It’s time to pick up the pieces, build new memories with The Boys, and strive to be happy.

And just trust God.

“Make a joyful noise unto the LORD,
all the earth; make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise.”
Psalms 98:4