Joy

Advent:  Good tidings of great joy!  Luke 2
The magi followed the star with joy! Matthew 2

Q- What is this joy?
A- God is love.  Love wins.

Q- What is the key to this joy?
A- The key to joy is trusting God.  Surrender to His will. It is that simple

Q- What is this joy I gain?
A- The joy of the Lord is my strength. (Neh. 8:10)  In Him I delight.

Q- What is the will of God?
A- "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind;  and love your neighbor as yourself."

Q- What is grace?
A- Grace is going out of ones way to help someone who does not deserve it and did not earn it.

Q- How far does God go to extend grace to us?
A- We cannot imagine how far Christ, the Creator of all things, went out of His way, assuming finite human flesh, dying a cruel and inhumane death, to extend His grace to us.

Q- What must we do to receive His grace?
A- "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved."

Q- What must we give to God in return for this salvation?
A- Withhold nothing; give Him your all.  Submit to His will.

" It is not the teaching of the Scriptures that grace makes us free to do evil.
Rather, it sets us free to do good."  A.W. Tozer

My Little Sister

 

Oh, rain, rain, rain.

The baby said

It's gonna rain!

She cried from her bed.

The lightning flashed

It's gonna rain!

The thunder roared

It's gonna rain!

She shouted from her bed

Her mama raised up her head 

Said go to sleep.

Oh, rain, rain, rain, rain.

And the baby said

It's gonna rain.

And mama stood beside the bed 

Do that again I'll have to spank.

And the lightning flashed 

And the baby said IT'S GONNA  *whispered* rain.

And baby said

It's! (Whispered from her bed) gonna rain.

                                      ------Eighty-four years ago

We're b a a a ck!

 Once again, my all-time favorite Halloween cartoon.

Within Which I Save Short Pieces

 She was sitting on the sidewalk, legs spraddled, chin down, obviously wracked by drug abuse and dissipation.

He walked by and in disdain saw the town he grew up in falling into ruin.  "I need to get out of this degenerate place."

She walked by, shook her head and thought, "Sad.  How can young people do that to themselves.?"

Jesus looked down and saw one of his children, broken and in ruin, desperately in need of help.  "I must send one of my servants to minister to her needs."

You approach the frail, dirty girl there on the sidewalk. . .

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Burdens are lifted away

when Jesus hears somebody pray,

Oh, Lord, I need help down below

lest I stray!

Then the burdens are lifted away.

(She was lying on the bed, sound asleep, singing this song.) ---March 5, 2020

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Two men on the porch enjoying one another's company.

"Yer."

Couple minutes of silence.

"Ayeh," responds the other.

Meanwhile in the kitchen their wives are visiting.

"Yadayadadayadaya"

"Blahblahblahchablah"

"Yadblahya blayadachblachyadablah. . ." ---March 4, 2021

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Before I could hit the "off" button the afternoon soaps started. Screen came up "The Young and the Restless." Really? I would have thought they would be "The Old and the Decrepit" by now.

50 seasons. Can you believe it?

--March 2, 2021***

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How Great is our God? We cannot fathom that. I am told that there are more than one and two thirds sextillion molecules in a drop of water; not in a bucketful of water, not in the Zambesi River, not in all the oceans of the world, but in a single drop. And if God should lose track of a single atom, He would not be God.

(1.67 x 10^21) --March 2, 2021

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Most people are ordinary; love them, but love 

the oddballs, too. --Song of Prudence, v. 19

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Just now listening to radio station in Texas, announcer reads commercial for a crafts outlet. "Items and goods crafted by real artesians."

Yep, that's what he said. --March 1, 2021

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Watching the weather report on the "news." Chirky girl is reading the stats, waving her arms as the radar shows in the background.

At the bottom of the screen this script,

1 to 2 inches rain this afternoon

Water pondering in places,

which naturally caused me to wonder what the water is thinking about, what exactly is it "pondering"? ----February 28, 2021

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Unsolicited advice freely given is often worth every penny.

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Common sense is often nonsense. Thy need is uncommon sense. --Song of Prudence, v. 4

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Informed? Uninformed? Ill-informed? Misinformed? It seems that the news source is the determining factor. If you listen to the source I favor, you are well-informed; if not, you are one of the other choices. Now I submit that I am the best informed of all. This is my technique. I scan the front page of my local newspaper for the headlines, note each one (carefully avoiding the reading of the smaller print beneath) then at my leisure and as I have time to think about it, I create my own narrative. Win! --Februiary 26, 2021

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Small engines and Big governments

If it is running a little rough, dismantle it. If you can't put it back together, oh, well, it wasn't running right anyway. --February 24, 2021

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Poke-a-Woke or poke a bear

it's all the same cause anywhere

you go these days

people are prickly

in more ways

than you can poke a stick at.

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In many ways we create our own realities for we interpret events through the lenses of temperament, belief, and experience. Yes, we are surrounded by much that is

disturbing but how we process it determines who we become.

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"Oh, Odysseus, as you see I have crossed the River Styx. Charon unceremoniously dropped me overboard on this godforsaken shore." "Yes; go on. Why do you seek to address me, Agamemnon?" "I've a word to say about the perfidy, nay, treachery of women." "Say on." "But first, here's why I was forced to board the fatal ferry. Clytemnestra did it. Someday it will be bruited far and wide that it was Aegisthus who did me in, and a pox on him, but no, the woman acted alone. A warm, relaxing bath, a net, a dagger. But Orestes will avenge me, just you wait!" "Boring, my good man. Of such tales, mixed up and muddled, twisted and perverted, has mankind entertained himself since Prometheus stole fire from Hephaestus and gave it to Man. Go away!"

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God in his wisdom drew a distinction between "love" and "like."

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Red Knees

thirty-six degrees
the winter that never ends
and it's no pants day

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Middle the night, my right arm moved to reach but I snapped to awareness quickly enough to realize there was nothing there to touch. This morning I was reading some lines on the screen, glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner. Why is she running so late? I thought. Then the tears (and again as I write this). We are haunted, I think, not by the will of the departed but by the subconscious self who remembers what should be, then we spring into consciousness and stark reality. Do not feel sorry for me; I have been and am abundantly blessed. I seek not sympathy but rather find the need in my loneliness to share with someone, anyone.

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"Sometimes in life you get caught for sins you haven't committed." --John LeCarre

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 Last time I took a grandkid to McD, he, about nine years old, didn't want the kid's meal. Oh, no. The full way-too-big sandwich, whatever it is called, along with fries. He ate about two bites of burger and three french fries. Little snipe now has four kids of his own. Serves him right.

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Dad stood five-ten, a sturdy muscular five-ten. I was fourteen when I surpassed his height, and well over six foot at fifteen, and still growing. "Nobody in our very large clan has ever topped six foot," Dad said, "and I have always harbored a suspicion of people over six feet tall.  Seems to me their head is too far from the heart to get the benefit of circulating blood, brain dead, if you know what I mean. Well, you're my son, and I love you anyway."

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Middle the night, my right arm moved to reach but I snapped to awareness quickly enough to realize there was nothing there to touch.  This morning I was reading some lines on the screen, glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner.  Why is she running so late? I thought.  Then the tears (and again as I write this).  We are haunted, I think, not by the will of the departed but by the subconscious self who remembers what should be, then we spring into consciousness and stark reality.

Do not feel sorry for me; I have been and am abundantly blessed.  I seek not sympathy but rather find the need in my loneliness to share with someone, anyone. 

50th Mid-america Threshing and Antique Show

 

For Labor Day

 

Joe Hill wrote on his dying day

"My body? Oh, if I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow"

and from this the story spins this way

 

Reduced to ashes as he wanted

but his acolytes by his words undaunted

spread the ashes far and wide

to city streets and countryside

to his native land and Detroit woods 

and burned again and re-collected

and eaten, washed down with ale

Is there never end to this tale

Joe Hill has grown and grown and multiplied

'til six men on a side could not heft the box

that would hold his body, hide and locks

If we believe all the tales in print

even Joe would wonder where he went.

It Isn't Practical

     Heide and I were visiting, two nonagenarians discussing some of the enigmas of life, the wonders, the puzzlements, and the age old "why are we here?" sort of things. In the course of the conversation, the subject memory, its miracles, its tricks, and the issue of the loss of it. I remarked that I had read that while the body regenerates many of its cells as they are lost to time or minor trauma, the brain loses vast numbers of cells daily, never to be replaced by new ones. Hence, I suggested, if I were to lose the cells that store my memories of you not only would those cells be lost, but you would be lost to me. Now understand that she and I are not scientists but rather lay persons pondering the wonders of life.

     Then, I said, why do the cells of the brain not regenerate? Heide's immediate response was, "Because it isn't practical!" 

     Thus, we found ourselves in a discussion of practicality, the necessity of one generation moving on to make room for the next, and so on. This portion of the conversation was concluded with her observation that "Nature is nothing if not practical." I told her that I was going to write a piece entitled "It isn't practical." And here we are.

     It is easy for me to imagine that "It isn't practical" entered the lexicon of mankind early on in his habitation of the Earth.  Say, for example, Cain, a gardener, or dirt farmer, if you will, brought a sacrifice of the bounty he had raised, because, as he might have reasoned, an animal sacrifice was impractical, as he would have had to barter his goods with, say, his brother Abel, a herdsman. And we all know the rest of the story.

     Skipping ahead to the dawn of The Enlightenment, we might picture Gutenberg, having "perfected" his press, attempting to sell the notion to his public and said public arguing that "It isn't practical," for there are not enough poor on earth to provide the necessary quantity of rags to feed the press even if we were to dispose of all the Earth's poor.

     I need not further the exercise, for any reader may imagine countless examples of progress stymied were the visionaries to cease dreaming and tinkering simply because they were told, "It isn't practical." Nature, we may conclude, is indeed practical. But man's imagination! Ah, the wheels of progress turn only when fueled by the imagination of the human mind.

Logged Another Year

 

As has become a custom, I guess, since I have been doing it since my 78th birthday, I am using a US Route sign to announce the completion of another trip around the sun during my lifetime. it is a blessing beyond measure that the Lord has granted me this many years here on Earth. I am further blessed in that my health is reasonably good, and I have been able to enjoy the vast majority of my days on this sojourn. Sorrows? Yes, of course, for no life well-lived does not encounter loss and heartbreak. It is the human condition. I once wrote, "Life consists of joys and disappointments. If at the end the ledger shows zero sum, count it as a pretty good life." This may be a bit of an oversimplification since much of life consists of the humdrum, but it is the joys and disappointments that fill our memory banks.

I am greatly blessed to be able still to access those files!