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Update on life

I know. I know. I know. I’ve been bad about blogging. It’s just that I’ve felt quiet lately. I wonder if you can relate. Sometimes you just don’t have much to say, until you don’t say much for too long, then you have way too much to say. This originally short post turned into a novel. Sorry and thanks for bearing through.

I dearly appreciate all of you who click over here to see what is going on in my boring little world and tell me what is going on in yours. And the truth is I miss you.

Here’s a recap of my life:

VACATION!!
J-Dub and I just returned from a relaxing few days in the Rocky Mountains. The Texas Panhandle Drought of 2011 had just about beaten both of us down to a nub and we desperately needed a break.

When we got married, we agreed that each summer we would take a vacation to a new place. Because of money issues, we’ve tried to take a more expensive vacation every other year, and take a quick, less expensive vacation on the opposite years. Recently, our summers have just been quick, less expensive get-aways and we almost let this summer slip past us altogether. But we scrimped and searched, and dug under couch cushions for a few nickels and dimes and were able to have one of the most enjoyable vacations yet.

We drove up to a place called Winter Park, Colorado. It’s a big ski resort town in the winter, but we were looking for a cool (weather-wise) hide out and it delivered. The drive was beautiful. We avoided the Interstate and took the back roads. If you’re not in a hurry, it makes the drive so much more pleasant. We stopped for lunch and homemade pie up around Castle Rock, and I got goose bumps in the restaurant, the first of several during the weekend. The higher we ascended in altitude, the higher our spirits seemed to lift. The mountains were majestic, the air was fresh, the temps were comfortable, the views were breathtaking, the flowers and the colors were astonishing, the rushing streams and rivers were exhilarating.

We ate delicious food, we hiked mountain trails, we dipped our hands in ice-cold streams, we communed with nature, and we even caught a free rock concert with Warrant and Skid Row, which left me convinced that I don’t wish to watch another rock concert as long as I live. J-Dub and I got more entertainment from the aged crowds reveling in their youth than we did the aged band members. Some hoisted their small children on their shoulders and taught them how to fist pump to the beat. But hey, to each his own. Although it was a free concert, J-Dub and I scored V.I.P. tickets, which basically gave us two free drinks and special seating. I owe it all to the Bob Ross t-shirt I was wearing. While everyone else was sporting leather and black, and skimpy t-shirts tied under their bosoms, I accidentally threw on my happy accidents that my buddy Erin gave me.

When people see Bob, they know we come in peace, which in turn opens doors and happy things occur, like V.I.P. tickets at an already free concert 🙂

Our time away was much too short, but I am feeling so re-energized now. I even turned on the water sprinkler this morning in a feeble attempt to add some color to my world here on this dry, dusty pasture. Although J-Dub and I originally wanted to visit a new place each summer, we may just make Colorado an annual event. What a beautiful place God spoke into existence.

EGGS!!
While we were away on vacation, I left the chickens in charge. They managed everything quite nicely. I did receive a phone call from my sweet niece Ash, informing me that they were passing through so they decided to stop and check on things. They also found three eggs. For awhile, the dear chick that had first laid her eggs, took a little hiatus after I covered up the feeder and she couldn’t nest in there any more to lay her eggs. But then, some little niece got a bright idea to put a different bucket of feed in the henhouse, and so she began to lay again in the new bucket of feed. This morning when I checked there were two more eggs, one in the feeder, and one in a nesting box. Imagine my surprise to find an egg actually in a nesting box. Then as I was moving my water sprinkler, I found 2 more eggs in a flower-pot outside! Soon I hope to have eggs running out of my ears. Well, not literally, but you understand I hope. There’s no telling where I might stumble upon eggs. It’s a good thing I learned to walk gingerly back when the snakes were causing me to pee down both legs.

PREGNANCY!!
For those who may have missed my previous post, I am really and truly, positively, absolutely, undeniably pregnant. And doing just fine considering. Each morning, I thank God for my health and ask Him for a healthy baby. My biggest complaint would be exhaustion, but that is subsiding some and I may even be confusing a little bit of it for just sheer laziness. Thank you all for the well wishes, the prayers, and the congratulations. My sister has already bought me a package of newborn diapers. I turned the package over and over, wondering if I should open them. Because, as much as I know that everything is going to be just fine, there is still a deep seeded fear of the “what if’s”. But I succumbed and I tore open the dashed perforation, and I pulled out a little diaper. I sat amazed at the tiny size of it, and I imagined a itty bitty little baby butt fitting inside. Whether it has boy parts or girl parts is yet to be determined. And then I did what most moms would do. I put that diaper to my nose, shut my eyes, and breathed in the sweet smell of a baby. It was a sweet moment. And a rare one I’m sure. Soon enough, the smell of diapers will permeate this home in a most unpleasant way. The diaper is on my bedside table still, but the powdery fresh baby smell has all but disappeared. I know because I checked this morning.

I’ve decided it’s all going to be okay. I’m slowly growing into this whole motherhood thing. In more ways than one.

I hope life is treating you kind. Leave me a comment and tell me about it. I’ve missed you!

Dem Dry Lands

My vegetable patch is green, luscious, fruitful, and multiplying.

I mean, the garden in my dreams. Of course.

It’s difficult at best to grow a garden, or anything green, in a drought.

We’ve morphed into a barren desert land.

The horses search for anything green and tender, including the bottommost leaves of the trees, leaving all our trees looking a little bit top-heavy.

We’re having a hot, dry summer in my area.

Our average rainfall is about 19 inches and as of June 6, we had received 0.68 inches of rain this year, making it the driest start to a year on record since 1892. 1892!! That’s a long time ago. We’ve had the most days over 100 degrees since 1953. We are shattering records in this unpleasant summer season.

But one thing I know, this too shall pass. Soon enough we will be cursing the biting winds of old man winter.

Two positives to this negative weather pattern: 1) nary a mosquito have I seen this summer and 2) I have not had to mow the grass yet. I have a few horses and chickens to thank for that as well.

We’ve been getting some intermittent showers the last few weeks, and it has been refreshing. And irony of all ironies, before the evidence of drought, my husband and a friend began a part-time business hanging rain gutter and have had a great start. People are buying rain gutter in a drought! So our next stop is Alaska to sell ice to the Eskimos. I shall insert a small advertisement here: Let me know if you’re in the market for gutter. I can hook you up.

But seriously, mankind has great faith. We, as humankind, are a resilient people. A people who have seen trials and blessings, who have spent time on both the mountaintop and in the valley, who have experienced the harvests and the famines of life. Throughout it all, we hang tough.

And look for the life among all the dying.

Robert Frost said it best,

In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life.
It goes on.

I pray life is treating you good and you’re able to see the positive in your negative situation today.

God Bless.

Newness

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? Isaiah 43:19

I awoke before my husband. Unusual? More unusual than a flying armadillo. Rather than rolling over and falling back to sleep, I groaned out of bed and crept through the dark house. I laced up my tennis shoes and decided to greet the day with a walk.

I was more than a little astonished to discover the sun does not rise before 5:45. In fact, everything was still slumbering. The horses, the birds, the sun, even the chickens. But I do know One who never sleeps or slumbers, no matter the time of day or night, this one is vigilant and waiting to hear from me, so He and I spent some time together. And he put on quite a show.

The morning was dark, but the moon was full, round and bright. The eastern sky slowly began to lighten to a light blue. I walked my driveway path that runs in front of my house from one gate to the next and then I turned around, back and forth, back and forth. The sticks that lay before me on the dark path frightened me at first, until I realized they were just sticks laying in the dark and not the creepy snakes of which I first imagined.

The chickens still slept in their coop, the horses stood as dark statues out in the pasture. The whole world was quiet. And dark.

There is a sense of peace to arise before everyone else, to observe the whole day awaken, to experience the firsts.

As the sun inched its light upward, the world began to stir, slowly but then more increasingly.

Two birds sat on barbed wire; silhouetted against the early dark sky that began as deep blue, then transformed to light blue, pink, orange, red and then back to light blue as the sun found its place.

The birds in the trees began their morning songs, a few peaceful tweets soon turned into a cacophony of chatter and cheeps.

The chickens finally decided to make their morning debut with clucks of Good Mornings escaping into the air.

I walked my driveway observing the new day, thanking God for all things new. Thanking Him for the opportunity to witness Him in action, as He brings forth each new day, each new breath, each new life.

He makes all things new.

The most miraculous of all perhaps being new life. The little fingers. The little toes. The sweet pink lips.

Jason and I are on a new journey. A journey of new life. Of little fingers, little toes, and sweet pink lips. We are bringing a new life into this world.

Partnering with God in the creation and witness of a miracle.

By His grace and mercy, we will hold this new baby in our arms come January.

Jason is thrilled. I for one, have been wrought with an array of emotions, predominately disbelief, shock and fear. But I know whom I have believed, and I trust in the One who makes all things new. It is in his working. It is his timing and his plan. I also understand the love and the blessing that this new creation is going to rock my world with is unfathomable.

If I may, I ask one thing of you. When and if you think of us, would you speak a prayer on our behalf. It would mean the world to us and our new blessing.

Blessings to you,

Angel

One Judge

The Casey Anthony Trial. Yes, I’m going to go there.

On Tuesday, the world reeled at the verdict of Not Guilty to the most severe charges towards Casey Anthony. Today sentencing was handed down and Casey Anthony will be free in merely six days, the world reeled again. Although I did not watch the entire courtroom proceedings, for about the last two weeks I have been completely obsessed with this case so deeply that the couch has been stuck to my butt and the TV has been glued to my eye sockets. It’s almost to the point of embarrassment. The result of my obsession is piles of laundry and jiggly thighs. Um,the jiggly thighs can also be contributed to a bag of cherry sours. But whatever.

I’m not going to give my opinion on whether Casey is guilty or innocent, primarily because my opinion does not matter, nor did it ever. But I am going to give my opinion on the hoopla surrounding this case. And then I’m going to get all preachy on you, because sometimes it overcomes me. So if you don’t feel like hearing a sermon today, from someone unqualified to give one, you might want to click on over to a less opinionated website.

I’ll pause while you decide.

First off, I completely blame the media and social networking for the brouhaha that has shrouded this case. Fifty years ago, if a mother was accused of killing her child, very few people would even be aware of the outcome. Perhaps a newspaper or two would report THE FACTS and life would go on. Instead we have reporters, lawyers, journalists, and a sundry of others coloring the case and the opinions of us all.

As the verdict was rendered Tuesday, and as the sentencing was announced today, I was one of the million Americans online with facebook and twitter reading the comments of friends and strangers alike, and quite frankly I am appalled at the HATE and poison that has been spewed out over social media networks. I believe people should have an opinion, it’s a first amendment right, but to know the thoughts that some people think is a little too much for me. Not only the insults towards the defendant but also comments addressed to the jurors have almost sickened me. One twitter I read said Casey Anthony deserves to be raped. Many others call her names and are hoping terrible, unspeakable acts upon her and also to the 12 who served on the jury. The judge even spoke of a threat to a juror to be fileted, salted, and fed to the pirahnas.

On the other hand, I’ve also read something that said, “You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’ I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder.” In case you don’t know, those were the words of Jesus.

In The Message, it goes on to read in Matthew Chapter 5, verse 22 “The simple moral fact is that words kill.”

Are we glorifying God with our opinions concerning this case? Do we please Him when we tweet the things we do about one of His children? After all, she is His child as much as I am. As much as we don’t want it to be true, He loves her. His love is unconditional, thankfully. He died for her as much as He died for me. And you. My sin is no different from hers. Perhaps the only difference is that I know a Savior, and prayerfully we should desire Casey Anthony to know Him as well. For that is our hope.

Yes, a child is dead and no one is being punished for it. Yet. But there will come a day when all will stand before the judgment seat of God and answer to Him. Including me. Including you. And if Jesus himself said being angry at another is the same as murder, I suggest we all reflect on our words and actions and ask forgiveness.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my Redeemer.” And if I may be so bold as to put this verse in 2011 terms, “Let my tweets and facebook statuses be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.”

As Christians we are called to love one another. In Luke Chapter 6 Jesus tells us: “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them. 33And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ do that. 34And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners,’ expecting to be repaid in full. 35But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. 36Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Let’s be merciful with our words.

If you want to turn your emotions into something good, you can go to http://change.org and sign a petition to get Caylee’s law enacted. This law will make it a federal offense if a parent/guardian does not report a missing child in a timely manner.

Now let’s love one another today.

Angel

Why I Blog

I began blogging in November 2008 for reasons unexplainable. It first began as a place to journal my unprivate thoughts and to catalogue my days.

I blogged six days in November of 2008 and then didn’t blog again until January of 2009. After that it was hit and miss for a season or two.

It’s hard to blog and I believe anyone who has attempted to be consistent with a blog can attest to that fact. Some days you succumb to the evil angel at your shoulder who tempts you with napping and sitcom watching instead of writing. Heaven knows I do. Succumb is my middle name.

My blog has evolved from short little paragraphs of how I spent my day to longer narratives of jibberish. These days, I feel more free to write my innermost feelings. I have a pretty good idea of who my audience is. And I can take chances a bit more. Blogging is a type of medium for me. Somedays it’s therapy when I feel my life is sucking. It’s a way of remembering stories that have happened to me and to others. It’s a way to express my feelings and my opinions. And I’d like to think it’s a form of entertainment or at least brings a smile to someone once in a blue moon.

One of the best parts of blogging, however, is getting to know my readers better. Especially the ones I’ve never met. Take Lenore for example. Lenore is a blogging buddy who blogs over at http://lenorediane.com

She’s got two adorable sons, a devoted husband, and is an excellent writer. But the main thing about Lenore is she hearts Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. Especially Phish Food.

Now me and ice cream don’t have a love affair so much. I’m more of a Sara Lee pound cake kind of kid. I have never to my recollection sampled any flavor of Ben & Jerry’s. So when I read about Lenore loving on her Ben & Jerry’s, I decided to try some. On a scale of one to 10, I found the flavor I chose to be about a 7. I commented on her post and told her about my experience and that I’d have to try another flavor before I completely knocked the whole B & J experience.

And then, lo and behold, I received a card from my friend Lenore with a coupon for a free pint of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream included along with a sweet note. It made my day.

So go over to http://lenorediane.com/2011/07/01/the-lovin-spoonfuls/ and read about her obsession with Phish Food and show her some love on my behalf.

And tell me, what flavor should I purchase with my free coupon?

Why I’m Keeping My Day Job

I’m a daydreamer.
My mind is my playground.
While others live in reality, dealing with real problems and situations that arise, I stick my head in the sand and daydream.
At work, I fantasize about home.
At home, I fantasize about vacation.
On vacation, I fantasize about looking great in a bikini.

One of my recurring daydreams involves me being a writer. You know, someone who actually gets PAID to write. I envision a leisurely workday of steaming coffee on the desk, sitting at a computer, not interacting with people unless I choose to, while beautiful, moving, riveting stories flow from my fingertips and land right smack dab on the bestseller list. I usually have this fantasy during the school year when I have a class full of darlings pulling on my skirt tails, tattling because someone cut them in line, while their forefinger is buried in their nose up to its knuckle.

But I must say, this summer alone, I have learned that I do not think I have it in me to be a writer or anything else that doesn’t require punching a clock and a puposeful task to complete. I am unmotivated. I cannot make myself do anything. Shaving my legs is a chore these days. I realize my blog has been rather quiet and I offer this explanation. My life is boring and I’m lazy. There.

I yearn for interaction. I haven’t left my house in days. I doubt my car will start on Sunday when it’s time for church.

My days oscillates between watching the Casey Anthony trial and working jigsaw puzzles, with lots of lying on the couch and eating in between.

One constructive task I do each day is the evening chores. But two days in a row, I left the door open to where the alfalfa is stacked and the horses wandered in and were having a hayday (no pun intended). After running the horses out, and shutting the door, my husband gently reprimanded me. “Are you firing me?” I asked hopefully. “No,” he replied, “if not for the chores, then you really would do nothing all day.”

Here’s to summer!
But when does school start?
I need a job.
And a bunch of kids pulling on my skirt tails.

Pop

To a small child, the perfect granddad is unafraid of big dogs and fierce storms but absolutely terrified of the word “boo.” ~Robert Brault

I like grandpas. There’s just something so appealing to me about them. The way they tuck in their shirts and wear their pants high on their waist. The comb tucked inside their shirt pocket. The magical way they make their thumb disappear.

If my paternal grandfather (Pop) were alive today, we would be eating cake and ice cream in celebration of his 112th birthday. He was born on June 29, 1899, and wanted to live during three centuries. He didn’t make it to Y2K, unfortunately, he was a long shot from it, passing away in 1976, a month before I turned one.

There is only one picture of us together that I’ve ever seen. We are lying together on a bed. He’s on his side, and he’s snuggling me in his arms as my cousin stands beside us.

In my life, I’ve felt a little bit cheated not having the opportunity to know him. From family stories, I know that he was an upstanding fellow, a fiddle player, a poet, and man full of wit. He wrote poetry, and my grannie told me once he wrote a poem about the local meteorologist who never could get the forecast correct, and sent it to him. He read it one night during his weather report.

I have an old cookbook given to me by my grannie. The” receipts” as they called them, are a collection from the pioneers that settled this part of the country and they call for ingredients like oleo and sour milk. Towards the back, you can learn how to make salve and stink bait, if the notion strikes you.

Along with a sweet little recipe for a Happy Day that goes like this:

A little dash of water cold, a little leaven of prayer.
A little bit of sunshine gold, dissolved in morning air.
Add to your meal some merriment, add thoughts kith and kin,
And then as a prime ingredient, a plenty of work thrown in.
Flavor it all with essence of love, and a little dash of play;
Then a nice old book and a glance above complete a happy day.

Shouldn’t we all have a daily dose of that?

There among the yellowing pages of this old cookbook, lies a stained, folded piece of paper.

On one side, in a lady’s writing is an unlabeled list of ingredients for something delicious I’m sure. Butter, sugar, eggs, chopped nuts, dates, flour, soda, nutmeg, cinnamon, unsweet apples. Almost sounds like a fruit cake doesn’t it?

And then on the other side, in Pop’s old penmanship is a poem:
My kids aint cute as your kids are
To this I will agree
But you dont have to keep rubbin it in
It hurts me cant you see
But heres one thing boy that is right
and youll admit it too
Im smarter by far and hansomer too
Than a silly nut like you

Happy Birthday Pop!

And what about you? Was your grandpa your best friend? Was he mean? Did he play the banjo? Was he smart and handsome? Could he make his thumb disappear? Or did you, like me, miss out?

Hope

Tonight I was Master of the Remote Control— a title I don’t especially covet.

I don’t like Television for many reasons that I won’t go into, but tonight for an unknown reason, I decided to turn on the T.V.

I started with The Singing Bee which made my heart happy. I am a World-Class-Lyric-Maker-Upper, so anytime I knew the words to the missing lyrics, I was hooping and hollering right here in my living room. Then I turned to an episode of 20/20. It was all about the Internet and the terrible, horrible people in this world who prey on victims, steal identities, falsely accuse and exploit others, and who truly have evil in their hearts. I thought of my little blog and all the good people who read and comment. Call me naive and stupid, but I still believe there is more good out there than bad. I ended my TV watching experience of the night with the 10 o’clock news and the disheartening forecast of severe drought and 109 degree high temperatures, plus extreme wind. When it was over I was thoroughly depressed, cognizant of why I do not watch TV, and scarfed down 2 waffles just to feel better about the world and my place in it.

I needed an uplifting story. Something that would give me hope, and prove that good wins over evil, and that there is something to look forward to in this world. I thought of googling “uplifting stories” and choosing a touching one, but then a story I’d read before popped into my mind. One of my most favorite stories of all time. I copied it from a website written for children called childrenchapel.org. It’s the story of a great man named Elijah and a contest. It speaks to me on so many levels.

The drought conditions were continuing to get worse. There was hardly any water to be found ANYWHERE. The creeks had dried up LONG ago, and the rivers had become patchy mud puddles. Food was scarce for people and for animals. In fact, many of the animals had already DIED because of the shortage of grass.

King Ahab was beginning to worry about his OWN herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. He called Obadiah, one of his servants, to his side.

“Obadiah,” he said, “something must be done before all the animals die. We must find grass and water. You go in one direction and I’ll go the other. There must be grass somewhere.”

So King Ahab and Obadiah set off in different directions, in search of fresh grass and water.

While Obadiah was looking here and there, trying to find mud puddles and grass, he saw a man walking toward him. “I wonder who that could be,” he thought to himself. As the man came closer, Obadiah recognized him. “Why, that’s Elijah!” he exclaimed out loud and ran to meet him.

“Elijah! Elijah! Is that really YOU?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, I am Elijah, and I want you to do me a big favor.”

“What is it, sir?” Obadiah asked politely.

“I want you to go tell King Ahab that I am here and want to see him,” Elijah explained.

Obadiah instantly became fearful. This was NOT something he wanted to do. “How can you even think of asking me to do such a thing?” Obadiah asked with astonishment. “Don’t you know that King Ahab HATES you? Don’t you know that the King is blaming YOU because there has not been any rain for all these years? Besides that, the King has been looking for you. Every time he thinks he knows where you are, you leave and no one can find you. If I tell him you are here, then you will leave again; he will want to kill YOU and ME. I’m sorry, Elijah. I just cannot do it!”

Elijah looked at Obadiah and patiently explained, “It will be fine, Obadiah. I promise you that I will be here. I promise you that I WILL see the King. Now please, just go and tell him I wish to speak to him.”

“YOU! YOU! YOU are the one that is causing trouble for Israel!” King Ahab shouted in anger. “YOU are the reason we have had no rain!”

King Ahab speaking with Elijah “No, King,” Elijah replied. “YOU are the cause for all this trouble. You have turned away from Jehovah, the one true God. You are worshipping the false god, Baal. You have caused the people of Israel to sin by worshipping idols. YOU have brought all this trouble to Israel.”

Elijah continued his speech. “I want you to gather 450 prophets of Baal, and 400 prophets of of Ashtoreth, and have them meet me at Mount Carmel.”

King Ahab did as Elijah said and gathered the prophets. A large crowd of people gathered also to see what was going to happen.

Elijah stood before the crowd. “How long are you going to try to worship Baal and Jehovah? You cannot serve more than one god. If Baal is God, worship him! If Jehovah is God, worship Him! You MUST make a decision. You must choose one or the other.”

Then Elijah said, “We are going to have a contest to see who is the REAL God.” He told them to bring enough wood to build two altars – one for Jehovah, and one for Baal. He told them to bring animals for the sacrifice – one for Jehovah and one for Baal.

Altar

The 450 prophets of Baal built their altar. They prepared the animal for the sacrifice. Then they started praying: “O Baal, hear us! O Baal, hear us!” From morning until noon they kept up the shouting.

Elijah was taunting and making fun of them: “What’s wrong? Can’t your god HEAR you? Has he taken a trip? Why isn’t he answering you? Perhaps he is talking to someone else. Maybe you should scream LOUDER.”

Midday had passed, and now it was getting late into the evening, and the prophets of Baal were still shouting and screaming at the top of their voices. Baal still was not listening.

Elijah told the people who were looking on to gather around him. He took 12 stones for his altar, used the wood that was brought, and prepared the animal for the sacrifice. Then he did a very strange thing indeed!

He told the people to bring him four barrels of water. It sounded pretty strange to them, but they DID bring the water. He poured the water on the altar and on the sacrifice.

Barrels filled with water

He told them to bring him four more barrels of water. “What’s wrong with this guy? Doesn’t he know there is a shortage of water?” they were mumbling among themselves. But they obediently brought the water. He poured the water on the altar and on the sacrifice.

That wasn’t enough for Elijah. He told them to bring him FOUR MORE barrels of water. “How much water is he going to waste?” someone whispered. Again they did as they were told and brought the water. He poured that water on the altar and on the sacrifice. The sacrifice was soaked with water. Water was running off the wood, onto the stones, and onto the ground. He dug a ditch around the altar and filled it with water also.

Then he began to pray a simple prayer:

“Lord God, let the people know that You are the true God of Israel and I am your servant. Let them know that I have done these things because You told me to do them. Hear me, O Lord, so these people will know that You are the Lord God, and they will serve You again.”

Fire from heaven falls on the altar and consumes the sacrifice

SUDDENLY, fire came down from heaven! It burned up the sacrifice! It burned up the WOOD! It burned up the STONES! It even licked up all the water that was in the ditch around the altar!

When the people saw it, they dropped to the ground in fear and cried out, “The Lord, He is the God; THE LORD, HE IS THE GOD!”

Then Elijah turned to King Ahab and said, “Get up! Eat and drink! There will be an abundance of rain!”

So King Ahab had something to eat and drink, and Elijah took his servant with him to the top of Mount Carmel to pray to God and wait for the rain. “Look toward the sea and tell me if you see rain,” Elijah said to his servant. The servant peered into the distance but didn’t see any rain.

Elijah kept praying.

“Look again,” Elijah told him. He looked again, but still there was no rain.

Elijah continued praying.

He looked six times, and each time there was no rain. Not even a small cloud was in sight.

Elijah prayed one more time

and asked the servant to look again.

Cloud

This time the servant saw a little cloud way out in the distance over the sea. “Run quickly!” Elijah commanded. “Go tell King Ahab to get his chariot ready and get off the mountain before the rain starts.”

It was just a little while before the sky became dark with clouds.

The wind began to blow.

There was a drop of rain…

…then another.

Then there was a great downpour.

THE DROUGHT WAS FINALLY OVER.

Everyone in Israel knew for certain that Jehovah was the REAL God and Baal was just a make believe god.

REMEMBER: Everyone must choose between good and bad. It is impossible to serve God and the devil.

How did this story speak to you?

Nostalgia

A drive down Highway 10 will snake you through beautiful Green Country. Past trees and hills and green galore. A very different view than the flat, yellow, arid, blowing, dusty pasture grasses that I gaze upon each morning from my kitchen window.

A drive down Highway 10 will snake you past Lover’s Leap, Kooter’s Bar & Grill, and several canoe rentals.

peyton's place cabin #1 (2) — mom, me, and jolea at Peyton's Place---Cabin #1

Until you finally arrive at Cabin #1 where I spent my childhood summers.

Where I learned to dig deep and find the best skipping stones and try to outskip my dad. I failed. Every time.

Where I itched with Poison Sumac every year and walked around pink skinned, not from the sun, but instead from the Calamine Lotion caked on my body.

Where I tasted my first fear of water when the swift rapids unexpectedly carried me farther than I expected or dared to venture.

This past Memorial Day, I took a nostalgic drive down Highway 10 and found things much the same, yet much different.

The peacocks who enchanted me with their outspread plumage were no longer swaggering about.

The sliding glass door on Cabin #1 was replaced with a regular fiberglass door and the choice of paint colors no longer made the cabin “rustic”.

The place where we swam was the same, and it was almost peaceful, if not for the annoying college-aged drunks loitering about being much too loud and immodest.

But for a moment, I tuned them out. I stood on the rocky bank of the Illinois River and closed my eyes. And I remembered.

me and jolea — Me and my sister Jolea. Circa late 1970's.

I remembered summers long gone, but not forgotten. A family in tact before divorce and then death separated. I remembered a happy childhood. Loving parents. Carefree moments. And catching fireflies in a jar. I said good-bye.

Then I walked to my car and drove home.

The Poor Bastard

In my last post, I shared with you a picture of a snake who was close enough to crawl up my skirt, if he’d taken the notion. Thank Goodness, he didn’t.

I received a comment from my dear, sweet Aunt Bert asking if we killed it or am I learning to live with them?I didn’t answer her comment because it’s a complicated answer which involves more explanation than a yes/no can give.
I must begin at the beginning, which is a very good place to begin.

My snake sighting number is at a total of 4, plus one molted (do snakes molt) snake skin.

When we bought this place, we discovered a snake skin and my wise dad commented “if you found a snake skin, the owner is around there somewhere.” I didn’t completely ignore him, but I imagined surely the snake had moved on to greener pastures.

The first snake I saw, I killed with no less than 50 whacks of a shovel.

The second snake I saw, was a tiny little baby snake that got away.

The third snake I saw crawled up my skirt (in my imagination)

And the fourth snake I saw was coiled under a tree hissing and striking at my dog AT THE SAME TIME the other snake was crawling up my skirt. He wasn’t in the mood for a photo shoot.

Seeing a snake will definitely give you the eebie jeebies, but seeing TWO snakes at the same time within 3 feet of one another will give you the triple eebie jeebies.

Each time a snake slithers past, I do a triple-step-bunny-hop, scream like a girl, and get the shivers all at once. Then I dash in the house to call my beloved, my knight-in-shining-armor, my hero, who inadvertently is 30 miles or more away and lets out an exasperated breath on the other end of the line.

My husband has me describe the snake in detail and identifies it as a bull snake: a good, harmless, beneficial, kind and benevolent snake. The kind I should invite for supper. The kind I should make the poster child of the J&A Chicken Ranch.

With the exception of the first one that I hacked to death, I leave them alone, they stay around for at least AN HOUR AND A HALF while I become a PRISONER in my own home, afraid to leave the comfort of my air-conditioned living room, peeking out the curtain every 10 minutes, watching their every move, and eventually they slither away to places unknown to me, and I live in a state of anxiety and trepidation until the next encounter.

Now J-Dub and I have a pretty decent marriage going on, but the snake incidents have just nearly driven us to the divorce attorneys. And I jest not.

I want the snakes dead. And He doesn’t. His argument is they are harmless, they eat rodents which carry nasty diseases, and “people” claim they keep rattlesnakes away as well. They are good snakes and I should just leave them alone.

My argument is they give me the eebie jeebies.
I think my argument wins.

Realizing he is not going to come to my rescue when I see a snake, realizing that I’m going to see more snakes, realizing that 50 whacks with a shovel will only kill a little snake, I asked him to show me how to shoot a gun. That statement led to a fight, which led to me leaving the house for a couple of hours until tempers cooled and rational thinking returned.

After a couple of hours away, and a couple ice cream cones consumed, I returned to the Snake Spa, where all snakes come to bask in refreshing coolness and safety of a mostly yellow, but half-green yard. Come one, come all, enjoy your stay!

As I was driving up, I flicked on the bright lights and observed a dead snake in the road outside the driveway. I walked into the house and the conversation was as follows:
Me: Who killed that snake?
J-Dub: Who do you think killed him? I shot the poor bastard! I drove him out from under the feed room. He tried to get away, but I killed the poor bastard anyway!

A couple nights later, we saw a coyote running across the pasture with the poor bastard hanging from his jaws.

And ever since the poor bastard’s been killed, I haven’t seen any of his wives, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons, or cousins twice removed.

I since have been given a pistola and 2 bullets of rat shot and I’m not afraid to use it. Well truthfully, I’m terrified to use it. Probably more terrified than seeing a snake. So to the next bull snake that slithers into the yard: I’ll just do a triple-step-bunny-hop, scream like a girl, get the shivers and run to the house. You enjoy the coolness of the grass for 90 minutes, AND NOT A SECOND MORE, and then be on your way. Or there’s going to be trouble. Ya hear?

So Aunt Bert, I hope that answers your question.

On our anniversary, while we ate our tender steak and tough corn, I told my bull-snake loving husband about a friend on Facebook who has a State of the Marriage Address each year on their anniversary. They discuss how things are, what needs to be improved, and the overall state of their marriage. We both agreed that life was going pretty well for us and our marriage was strong. And then he added “Except I need to be more patient with you adjusting to living in the country.”

“Motion seconded! Pass the Corn!”