Press Any Key To Continue #XP #Windows8

I must be a true Luddite because I hate change! A couple of days ago, I learned that starting April 8, 2014, Windows XP will no longer be supported by Microsoft.

Panic mode!

As usual, I must be the last person in America to know this! Our home currently uses three computers. Now I learn they need upgrading and/or replacing?! [Oh, boy, another expense ... sigh] I did try to update the computers on-line and the Microsoft website said, "Nah, girl, that ain't happenin'. You have to spend major bucks on new equipment." [lol] In actuality, it showed the "Your computer is not compatible for an upgrade." 

Well, La De Da!

I think I have a cheaper solution that buying a whole new system. The Dell Desktop here in my office still has a good monitor, keyboard, speakers and mouse. I can reuse them on a new tower.

Right?! 

Hope so because I'm going with that. For now. I'll also need to buy a separate floppy disk access (is that the right term?). So, after perusing the Wal-Mart website last night I happened on a refurbished HP 110-023wb Desktop with Windows 8, 8 GB, 1 TB Hard Drive, etc. for under $300 with a limited warranty. I made sure to read the reviews. According to the previous purchasers who posted, I can still use my "old" software programs. If I have to upgrade all those too, that will become costly.

But I still eventually need two small Laptops and/or Notebooks. I checked into a Tablet, but Husband said they are too hard to use with arthritic hands. Any suggestions or recommendations will be greatly appreciated.

Also, any suggestions on how to get rid of the old computers? I'd prefer them to be "scrubbed" for security and privacy reasons. And I don't like the thought of cluttering up the landfill with usable electronic equipment. 

I hope everyone has a happy (and cheaper) weekend.

~ Ride Safe ~

Funny Friday ~ You Think English Is Easy? #Homographs

You Think English Is Easy?

Homographs are words of like spelling but with more than one meaning.

A  homograph that is also pronounced differently is a heteronym.

1)  The bandage was wound around the wound.

2)  The farm was used to produce produce.

3)  The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

 

4)  We must polish the Polish furniture.

5)  He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6)  The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7)  Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8)  A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9)  When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are animal organs. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship?  Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

PS. -  Why doesn't 'Buick' rhyme with 'quick'?

Throwback Thursday: My 1979 Kawasaki KZ650

Welcome to my first attempt at Throwback Thursday.

Above is a photo of my sweet Hubby and me from the early 1980's. I was only 24 and Hubby was 32. I wish I was still that skinny! This is my first street legal motorcycle. It was a 1979 Kawasaki KZ 650 set up for touring with a Vetter Fairing, Bates Box, and King and Queen seats. It even had a homemade cruise control, of sorts. Since we both liked to ride, and neither cared to be a passenger, we would take turns up front. Because female riders where a rarity in the '80s, we sure got some amazed looks!

We had a lot of adventures on this bike. "They" say hindsight's 20/20 but I wish I could have kept it. I sold the bike when we bought our first house in October 1981.

This photo was snapped somewhere between Titusville and Jacksonville, Florida, along the I-95 corridor. We where freshly married and had been down to visit my Dad and step-mother in Titusville for the day. It is about a two hour trip one way, so, about half way back we had stopped at one of the rest areas to refresh ourselves. A kindly by-stander, now long forgotten, took the picture for us. I'm forever grateful to that man. Because of his kindness we still have a very happy memory memorialized forever on film.

Part Nine: The Birds, The Bees ... And The Honey

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. Since we have no children, he has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Birds, The Bees ... And The Honey
by Steven R. Hudson

On a warm summer morning we boys, that being Ray, Jackie, Peanut and I,

were walking the trail from Sherwood Forest toward the Mealer house carrying bundles of Dog Fennel stalks we had cut to make a tepee. De-limbed Maple saplings had already been stacked at Ray and Jackie's backyard to make the tepee frame. The Dog Fennel stalks, feathery and green and wreaking of Chlorophyll, would be woven over the frame of Maple to form the walls of our "Injun" dwelling.

Along this path stood an old Bald Cypress. The tree was one that could not help but be noticed, standing alone now on dry ground that was once a shallow wetland and somehow having avoided the saws that felled it's companions. Like all members of it's kind, it was swollen at the

base with many "Cypress Knees" thrusting from the ground nearby. Something was different as we approached the tree this day. A steady buzzing sound from the tree caught our attention causing us to drop our bundles and investigate. There was a hole about six inches wide at the tree's base and a steady stream of Honey Bees flying in and out of the opening. We passed by this tree many times a week on our way to the forest and were surprised that the bees had escaped our notice until now. Being of an age famous for short attention spans, we forgot about tepee construction and set about investigating the beehive. 

The first painful lesson learned was that Honey Bees get highly irritated when you get too near their honey store. Pulling their barbed stingers from our tender young flesh convinced us that another approach was needed. Now it seems that at least one of us brigands had heard that smoke was like a drug to bees. Smoke would calm them, making them docile enough so that we might rob their honey supply without being stung. We began gathering some dry sticks and enough tender to make a small fire near the hive opening and dry leaves would make plenty of smoke to soothe the hive's protectors. A long sapling was cut and used to push the sticks and tender up to the opening which was less than a foot from ground level. Dried grass was wrapped around the pole's tip and lit to make a long "match" to get the sticks and tender burning. This actually worked as smoke drifted up and into the opening. We became emboldened and moved closer, throwing more sticks and leaves on the fire and fanning the smoke into the opening with a palmetto frond. The bees seemed confused and crawled around the opening, no longer flying aggressively toward us. Which of us would be brave (crazy) enough to reach in that opening and pull out the honey comb with it's sweet treasure?

If Peanut was known for anything it was impulsiveness. If you wished to see him do something risky or just plain stupid,  just dare him to do it. So we dared him and straight away, he reached into the hive opening, felt around for a moment, then pulled out a comb a foot long and dripping with honey. Jackie rushed home to fetch a bucket for the honey comb. The bucket was soon filled and raid over, we retired to a shady spot to enjoy our spoils. We cut the comb open and lapped up the honey like thirsty dogs. It was so sweet and delicious and, like dogs, we ate too much and got sick. The bees had gotten their revenge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A Special Note For Today:

In case my readers haven't noticed,

I'm not much into celebrating holidays.

However, March 17th is a special day for us

because on this day 35 years ago

Sweetie and I had our First Date.

(And, yes, I wore green that day.) :)

We've been together as a couple ever since.

We always, always find some way to celebrate this day.

For everyone else, I hope your day is special too.

Thanks for stopping by.

Happy Saint Patty's Day!

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ Grieve Not The Spirit

Grieve Not The Spirit 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

Printer Friendly Version

The first lesson each believer in Christ should learn is that immediately upon believing he is given everlasting life. Referring to this fact Ephesians 1:13,14 says:

“In whom ye also trusted, having heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation: in whom also having believed, ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise.”

Mark well, the believer is not sealed by the Holy Spirit, but “with” the Holy Spirit. The Spirit Himself is the seal. Every sincere believer in Christ, then, should rejoice in an accomplished redemption and rest in the fact that the Holy Spirit will keep him eternally safe.

But while we cannot lose the Holy Spirit we can, and often do, grieve the Holy Spirit, as we read in Eph. 4:30. This is why we are told in Rom. 8:26 that the Spirit “helpeth our infirmities” and makes intercession for us, that we might live lives which please and honor God.

The wonderful fact is, however, that “nothing,” not even an aggrieved Spirit shall “separate us from the love of God” (Rom. 8:38,39). Thus in the same breath with which the Apostle exhorts us not to grieve the Spirit he again reassures us that this same Spirit keeps us eternally safe:

“And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption” (Eph. 4:30).

Does this encourage careless living? Those who think so have missed the whole point of Paul’s appeal. The Apostle does not warn the believer that if he grieves the Spirit he will be lost. Rather, in grace he exhorts:

“Do not grieve the very Spirit who in mercy and love has sealed you as forever His own. Do not repay such love with such ingratitude.”

---

To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

A Hodge Podge Post With A Craft Idea

Hubby has finally returned from his central Florida trip to assist his recently widowed father prepare the house for sale.

Hubby's 2013 Honda CB100 in the

Bethel Primitive Baptist Church and Cemetery parking lot

Folkston, Charlton County, Georgia

What a job! He said there where multiple garbage bags of clothing, knick knacks, and just plain garbage to get rid of. He said they're still not finished. Makes me kind of thankful I stayed here. Less work and I get to sleep in my own bed. *smile* Now I understand that his father has major blockages in one or both of his legs and needs surgery. Poor man. When it rains it pours.

While perusing the Yahoo! News, which I try to do every evening, I noticed this interesting article titled "5 Things To Do With Old Sweaters".

They offered some really interesting ideas! From dog beds to pillow covers and purses, etc. I love this! I think that using old sweat shirts may work as well. Has anyone made any of these or anything similar? Please share. I enjoy "repurposing" old clothes and furniture.

Have a great evening folks!

Part Eight: Indian River Memories

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Indian River Memories
by Steven R. Hudson

Not all my adventures revolved around our home in Center Park. We made frequent trips to Ft. Pierce to visit Grandma Cootie. She and my step

grandfather no longer lived on Angle Road but had moved into an old wood frame house fronting on Indian River in St. Lucie. There was a great open porch without railings surrounding the structure. A stately old Live Oak tree stood in front amidst tall Cabbage Palms. The side and back yard had Orange and Grapefruit trees. A dock stretched at least a hundred feet into the river with a large platform at it's end and Coconut Palms lined the paved road that fronted the house. Looking across the river, (actually a salt water lagoon) you could see Mangrove jungles that defined the shallow waters of the far bank and small islands, covered with Australian Pines were strung like pearls along the river's channel.

Grandma was an excellent cook and enjoyed cooking up huge feasts in preparation for our visits. Exiting the car, we could smell the aroma of roasts, hams and home baked pies and cakes from her kitchen. We would eat until we could hold no more and Grandma would carry on, decrying our "small appetites" and all the left overs she had to deal with. Of course, the next few days would see the left overs disappear. Everything she cooked always tasted so good.

Evenings found us all on the dock to catch Mangrove Snappers, Trout and Snook. If the shrimp were running, a Coleman lantern would be hung over the water to draw the shrimp to the surface to be scooped up with a dip net.

Sometimes something unusual would be drawn to the light and our baited hooks like a Barracuda or an eel like Cutlass Fish. Needle Fish would chase the small fish drawn by the light and were a prize if you were fast enough to net one as there was no better bait for big Snook. Breakfast would consist of crispy fried fish fillets, eggs and grits. It was so good waking to the aroma of fish frying and coffee bubbling in Grandma's old fashioned percolator. Breakfast over, we might take a boat ride on the river with Uncle Bill as we called our step grandpa, to gather fresh oysters if they were in season or go to one of his favorite fishing spots for Sea Trout or Snook. Uncle Bill grew up on the Indian River, earning a living in his youth as a commercial fisherman and it seemed he knew every cut, creek and island it held. He could tell stories by the hour about his life on the river, trolling wire lines for Trout, catching sea turtles and even Manatees. Such activities would be illegal now but in those days these animals were abundant and anything you could catch would be used for food.

Uncle Bill's mother lived in an old wooden house on 32nd Sreet in Ft. Pierce. We called her Gramoddy. Her yard was a jungle of old trees, vines and bamboo and looked out of place next to the neatly manicured lawns of other homes on that street. Her next door neighbors were Robert and Gladys Loyd. They were wonderful folks and friends to my Grandma and Uncle Bill. They had a daughter my age named Sherry, my first crush, and I would go next door to the Loyds whenever we visited Gramoddy to see her. Mr. Loyd had a very successful fruit trucking business and I remember him and Mrs. Loyd being kind, friendly people. It seems they were always making homemade ice cream when we visited and it tasted so fine under the shade trees of their back yard. Grammody's yard was a great place to view nature. She had bird feeders all round her house and she would hand feed peanuts to the squirrels, all of which she had given names. The most tame was a female she called "Gray Baby". I would watch her bird feeders for hours and she would help me identify the birds that I was not familiar with. I saw my first Painted Buntings at her feeders and my interest in watching birds was born and nurtured there.

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ Mercy Upon All

Mercy Upon All 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

Printer Friendly Version

Have you ever wondered how the pagan world got that way: idol-worshipping, wicked, gripped by superstition and fear?

The Bible supplies the answer in Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. Three times in Chapter 1 we read of the Gentile world: “He gave them up… He gave them up… He gave them over….” Why? Because they had given Him up: “And even as they did not wish to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient [becoming]” (Rom. 1:28).

It would have been difficult to believe 30 or 40 years ago, that our young people would be dancing to the wild, exotic music of pagan lands (if this can be called music), or that our studios would be selling the twisted, hideous paintings of pagan art (if this can be called art).

When you wonder why the lovely melodies and harmonies of yesteryear have given place to the noise and din of today’s “music”; when you wonder why the beautiful paintings of those days have been largely replaced by the masterpieces of chaos that surround us now — why in so many ways we seem to be reverting to paganism — read Romans 1.

All this is the natural result of a departure from God and His Word. Yet there is hope and assurance and joy in store for any individual who will yet heed the message of God — particularly in the Book of Romans. Here we read how Jew joined Gentile in rejecting Christ, and God had to give them all up. But listen to this passage from Rom. 11:32: “For God hath concluded them all in unbelief THAT HE MIGHT HAVE MERCY UPON ALL.”

That is, He gave up the Jewish and Gentile nations so that He might show His grace to any individuals who might turn to Him by faith in Christ, thus reconciling both (Jewish and Gentile believers) unto Himself in one body, by the cross (Eph. 2:16).

---

To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

It is so nice to be over that head cold. I finally stopped coughing like an old smoker, and can finally breathe well enough to walk without weezing. Needless to say, it's been a lost week for me.

As I strolled around the property, I noticed that during the heavy rains we had, the Wild Plum have started blooming. This makes the Yellow Jackets (a nasty brute of a wasp) and other more tame bees very happy.

Also, I noticed the Eastern Red Bud tree is at the tail end of blooming. A mature Red Bud can put on a spectacular show. I missed most of it this year.

Did you notice? I've learned how to add picture frames to my photos, just like Haven For Vee. Her blog always looks so pretty. And I feel like a pro now! *lol* For anyone that has Corel Paint Shop Pro, it's right there in the menu. All these years of using the program and I never noticed it. Silly me.

Husband is in Florida for a few days. He is helping his father cope with the impending demise of his wife "C". "C"s kidneys have shut down. She has ceased seeking treatment and is now in Hospice awaiting the inevitable. Please forgive this ugly comment but she's not well liked. By anyone. The woman has zero friends. Sad, isn't it, to be in your 80s and not a soul will grieve your passing. At least she does acknowledge Jesus Christ as her Lord and Saviour so she has the hope and promise of resurrection. I just think it's really tragic that someone's life has been such a waste. It's not a happy home there, but Husband being the good Christian man and dutiful son that he is, is with his father. Father-in-law is also not in the best of health. At least having his son there will help him during his passage from long-time marriage to widower. I admire my Husband so much. He always thinks of others first. 

Therefore, I have been busying myself with yard work today to pass the time. I find it comforting to finish something and working on the property is a healthy way to work out the "head cold hangover" kinks. 

That pile of debris at the bottom left hand corner is what I accomplished this morning (click photo to enlarge). I couldn't believe how many Catclaw, Potato Vine, and wild Confederate Jasmine where snaking through the trees. Now I'm sore and tired. But it's a happy tired, knowing that I'm doing my bit to make our place look a little nicer. I plan to put a wooden swing by the walk through gate. Maybe also some bird houses, wind chimes, feeders and any little yard decoration I can afford.

Well, I hope everyone is also having a pleasant weekend. 

Thanks for stopping by and putting the kickstand down.

"This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."

[Psalm:118:24]

Status Update

Jack and Sam

The Jack Russell Terrorist Brothers

I have been under-the-weather this week with a rip snortin' head cold. I haven't had one lay me this low since about 1993. I hope to be back and in snarky ... eh ... sparky form soon.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful week.

~ Ride Safe ~

Sparky

Part Seven: Tales Of Sherwood Forest

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Tales Of Sherwood Forest

by Steven R. Hudson

So much of our play centered on a stand of tall Cypress, Tupelo and Water

Oaks. Spanish Moss festooned the trees and the sunny edges of this wood were girt with prickly, head high briars. It was situated in the very middle of Center Park and had probably been planned as a park by the developer before some calamity of business brought such plans to a halt. The trees formed such a canopy that little sunlight reached the lone footpath that cut through the heart of this magic place. Our previously mentioned fishing canal defined the north side and a crude bridge of fallen logs gave access to the trail on that side. We played out countless boyhood fantasies in that wood, of Robin Hood, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians and other imaginings.

Every dime store in those times sold bow and arrow sets. The small maple bow and three rubber tipped arrows were stapled to a cardboard backing with the profile of a noble Indian chief on the front and bulls eye target printed on back. This was an essential piece of kit for a round of Cowboys and Indians and I think every kid back then had one. We actually shot these rubber tipped arrows at one another. A wonder none of us lost an eye.

 Many rabbits inhabited the briar patches around Sherwood Forest and these bows now gave us an idea of how we might hunt them. Of course the "sissy" rubber tips had to go first but we found the arrows would not fly true with their tips simply sharpened to a point. Something heavier and more lethal was needed if we were going to be successful rabbit hunters. It was Peanut who came up with a solution. A soda bottle cap could be bent over the end of the arrow shaft and then hammered flat. This locked the cap to the shaft and formed a sharp, thin steel point that could be made even sharper with a little honing on a stone. Armed with this new deadly weapon we were ready to rabbit hunt. We soon learned that rabbit hunting was not as easy as we had thought it would be. Rabbits are quick and we had to get very close with our under powered maple bows to have any hope of making a hit. We next experimented with making stouter bows that would cast our newly upgraded arrows with more authority. The raw materials for bow making were all around us. Medium sized maple saplings were found to make a decent bow and Peanut actually managed to kill one unfortunate rabbit. We soon tired of bows however. Far more interesting weapons were coming.

We loved making forts in Sherwood Forest. Cast off pieces of plywood and cardboard could be fashioned into walls and roofs. A hammer and a Mason jar full of rusty nails were all that was needed. Ray, Jackie and I found a pile of cardboard at a building site and dragged it off to add to a fort we had already but as we neared the briar patches, a new idea was hatched. Why not build a hideout in the midst of those impenetrable briars. With a machete, "borrowed" from Mr Mealer's back porch, we began a kid size crawl tunnel into the maze of thorny canes. As we went, strips of cardboard were laid down to protect us from the thorns. At last we tunneled to the center of the briars and hollowed out a room large enough that we three could sit cross legged. We lined the room with the remaining cardboard and made a "door" out of woven canes to hide the entrance. We felt so clever.

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ The Supreme Importance Of God's Word To The Believer

The Supreme Importance Of God's Word To The Believer 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

Printer Friendly Version

The Bible will always have first place in the life of the spiritual Christian.

It is of utmost importance that we understand this, for some who feel themselves quite spiritual give much time to prayer, but little, if any, to the study of the Word. Such have actually fallen for the subtle trick of the adversary to play upon their natural human pride and cause them to exalt self and push God into the background.

In saying this we do not for one moment minimize the importance of prayer; we only stress the supreme importance of the holy Word of God. In this we are surely Scriptural, for David says, by inspiration:

“For Thou hast magnified Thy Word above all Thy name” (Psa. 138:2).

Of those who would still object and place first emphasis upon prayer rather than upon the Word, we would ask one simple question: Which is the more important, what we have to say to God or what He has to say to us? There can be but one answer to this question, for obviously what God has to say to us is infinitely more important than anything we might have to say to Him. Our prayers are as fraught with failure as we are, but the Word of God is infallible, immutable and eternal.

Yet some, having fallen for one of Satan’s “devices” and feeling quite spiritual about it, are like the talkative person to whom one listens and listens, occasionally nodding his head, but receiving little or no opportunity to “get a word in edgewise.” They do all the talking, but give little time listening to what God has to say to them.

---

To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

Funny Friday ~ How In The World Did This Happen?

Have you ever slapped yourself on the head and said, "How in the world did this happen??!!"

~ Ride Safe ~

Sparky

Part Six: Blackberries And Fishing

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Blackberries And Fishing
by Steven R. Hudson

You could nearly live off the land in Center Park, I think, and Blackberry* season was proof. There were two large berry patches, one on the east side of

"Sherwood Forest" where unsold lots had become fields of grasses, new growth trees and wild flowers. The other was in a clearing at the end of a two path dirt road on the south side of Beach Blvd. The Alhambra Dinner Theater sits on the exact spot today. In late May and early June the sweet, juicy berries would ripen, luring me and my friends. We carried brown paper bags to haul back the tasty treasure that our moms would bake into cobblers and pies. The bags would get soaked by the purple-red juice as they filled to overflowing. Our lips would be stained also as we ate about as many berries as we gathered. Blue jeans and sneakers were worn as protection from the thorny vines but our hands and arms got scratched from reaching into the tight spots that always held the best berries. Hot cobbler with vanilla ice cream would be the reward that evening.  

Sometimes berry picking could be a little scary. Ray, Jackie and I were picking berries in the patch near Sherwood Forest one morning. The vines grew in mats atop knee deep grasses that made it impossible to see where you were placing your feet. Our bags were nearly full when the air suddenly exploded with sound of escaping steam. We froze, too scared to even move. A big rattlesnake was nearby and we had no clue as to it's location. As if we had been given a signal, we dashed off in three directions like frightened quail. Miraculously, we did not step on the snake as we ran all the way back to Ray and Jackie's house. A few days later, the lure of the sweet berries was too much and we returned, each armed with a long stick. We poked the clumps of grass as we went and listened for the rattler. Nothing was heard and we soon got over our fear.

Fishing was a common summer activity and there were three good fishing holes. The creek which I've already mentioned, a canal on the northwest side of Sherwood Forest (built as subdivision drainage no doubt) and a large forest pond, not far from the berry patch south of Beach Blvd. The pond is now in the center of an apartment complex next to the Alhambra Theater. The canal was our favorite because it was nearby and there was plenty of room to swing our cane poles. There were Blue-gill and Warmouth bream in abundance. Large-mouth Bass were there also but we did not know how to catch them. It was so satisfying to walk home with a long string of fish over your shoulder. 

Summer meant afternoon thunderstorms which filled the ditches to overflowing on Cornelius St. The ditches drained down to Beach Blvd and from there to the creek. Soon they were full of minnows, crawfish, water snakes and fingerling bream and pickerel. We waded the ditches, catching small fish to put in Mason jars or old fish bowls. There were many small water snakes which I easily caught, firing up in me an endless fascination with snakes.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are of his actual childhood. The *Blackberries mentioned are actually Dewberry but most locals call them Blackberry.)

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ Grace Not Earned

Grace Not Earned 

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society
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Have you ever noticed that God does not hold the great men of Scripture up to us because of their personal goodness? Almost invariably their records are marred by failure and sin, but God bids us look at their faith, to see what their faith did for them. Even those who lived consistently good lives are not held up to us for their personal worth, because God knows their imperfections. Thus Rom. 4:2,3 says:

“For if Abraham were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory– but not before God. For what saith the Scripture? Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness.”

And Verse 6 goes on to say about David:

“Even as David also describeth the blessedness of the man unto whom God imputeth righteousness without works.”

This is because man cannot live a life good enough to make him acceptable to God, for with God only perfection is good enough. One sin spoiled the earth; God will not allow one sin to spoil heaven too. This is why in grace He gave Christ to die for our sins and to pay the just penalty for us. Because of the all-sufficient payment of Christ in our behalf, God can now be “just, and the Justifier” of those who place their faith in Christ (Rom. 3:26).

The famous eleventh chapter of Paul’s letter to the Hebrews bears out the fact that salvation, or acceptance with God, is obtained, not by human effort, but by faith. This great chapter on the heroes in God’s “Hall of Fame,” begins with the words: “For by it [faith] the elders obtained a good report,” and then goes on: “By faith Abel …,” “By faith Enoch…,” “By faith Noah…,” “By faith Abraham…,” etc., and closes with the declaration:

“…these all…obtained a good report through faith…”

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To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.