Grace – Page 2 – Angel Wheeler

Soap #2–The Old and Curmudgeonly: Sleeping Through the Storm

My little town got 8.5 inches of snow Tuesday night, and they cancelled school. And as an added bonus, we don’t have to start school until 10:00 this morning. Yippee Skippee!!

Snow days don’t come around often, and I try to enjoy them. I spend my day in lazy gear, reading, writing, facebooking, napping. My husband on the other hand, is like a fish out of water. He turns the TV on, then turns the TV off. He sits in the recliner, then sits on the couch. He lets the dogs out and lets the dogs in.

Finally, he got still long enough to sleep a little. I decided a picture of these three old dogs was in order.

He didn’t work because he took care of everything the day before.

He double-fed the cattle and put out hay, but I’m sure those cattle will be glad to see him and the cake wagon (aka the feed truck) today.

[feed+wagon.jpg]

He was prepared for the approaching storm.

It reminds me of a story I once read by an anonymous author:

Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops.

As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals. Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. “Are you a good farmhand?” the farmer asked him. “Well, I can sleep when the wind blows,” answered the little man. Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man’s work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand’s sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, “Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!” The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, “No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows.”

Enraged by the old man’s response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, and he returned to bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

So it is with life. Can we sleep while the wind blows? Are we prepared when the storms of life arise?

There’s marital troubles, financial troubles, job troubles, relationship troubles, health troubles.

There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich.

Sorry. Bubba came to mind. It happens.

Here’s my SOAP for the week. It’s my new way of Bible Study. S stands for scripture, O for observation, A for application, P for prayer.

Scripture: In Luke Chapter 4, Jesus was sleeping during the windstorm.

³⁵ On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” ³⁶And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. ³⁷And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. ³⁸But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” ³⁹And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. ⁴⁰He said to them, “Why are youso afraid? Have you still no faith?” ⁴¹And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

Observation: Even the disciples who had seen Jesus do miracle after miracle were afraid during the storm. Their faith was tested, they didn’t feel prepared. They didn’t think Jesus cared about them.

Application: During storms in my own life I have cried out that same lament, “Do you not even care?” But he does. I know he cares for me. He had told the disciples to get in the boat, we’re going to the other side. He’s with us every step of our journey. Side by side, through all kinds of weather. Through the sunshine and the rain. When we give our lives to Him, ask Him to direct our steps, strive to follow Him, read His word, and pray, then we can be prepared for the storms of life. Knowing he’s in the boat with us, taking us to the other side, through the storm and all will help us feel peace.

Prayer: Dear Lord, I love you and I thank you. I thank you for my good times, and I thank you for the storms that you have seen me through. I thank you because I know that you will be with me in the storms that are inevitable. I pray that through You, I will always be prepared when the winds toss my little boat. Hide your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you. Guide me on my journey. Keep me safe.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

Prosperity and pee-pee

Have you seen the new movie Lottery Ticket?

I haven’t. And don’t laugh, but I want to. I’m sure it will be dumb, dumb, dumb, and I will be filled with movie remorse like I always am when I pick out bad movies, which I always do. It’s a gift of mine.

In case you haven’t heard of the movie, here’s the trailer for it.

I’d like to think that if I won the lottery I would have a tad bit of self-restraint and not go spending my money like a wild boar hog.

A few days back, it was flying around the rumor mill here in my little town that someone won a million dollar scratch-off from the gas station at the Walmarts. Then lo and behold, it was confirmed on the news. The fellow chose not to have his name released. Which makes him a pretty fart smeller.

I remember watching a documentary of lotto winners and what happened to them after the madness of the moment. The ones on this documentary are all dirt broke today. Poor people just don’t know what to do when handed a wind-fall like a lottery win. They start buying boats, houses, cars, jets, taking trips, drinking fancy wines. And then they must deal with all the people who come out of the woodwork with their hands out. Before they know it, they’re back to being broke and often times in more debt than before they won.

Which reminds me of my dogs.

This is Drew Miller on the left, named by my niece after one of her pre-school friends.

The one on the right is Grace.

I like this picture because it just shows the guilt on their faces. They’re always guilty of something.

They are probably the two stupidest animals on the planet. They are “outside” dogs, and for good reason. They’re hairy and hyper. I would like to think they’re house-broke, but last night they proved me wrong. When the weather gets downright brutal, we let them come in. Drew cannot really be trusted, (he’s a chewer) so we shut him up in the bathroom. Grace is more trustworthy and obedient, so she sleeps in the closet, by choice. The last time they came in, my husband, J-Dub found dog dookey in the living room the next morning. It belonged to Grace we know, since Drew was locked up in the bathroom.

Last night, we let them in again, and Grace went and peed right behind Jason’s chair where she had laid claim as her potty spot from the last cold snap. As soon as Drew got a whiff of that, he hiked his leg and peed right on my husband’s recliner. He didn’t even try to sneak. He just out and out peed on the chair. Right before his eyes.

Needless to say, I figure they got pretty chilly last night.

My husband’s famous words, “They can’t handle prosperity.”

Just like a poor boy with a winning lotto ticket.

Amazing Grace

My eleven year old niece takes art lessons.

This is her most recent painting.

She loves art, drawing, creating, and having fun.

Let me tell you a little bit about her.

She was born under less than perfect circumstances and survived a very traumatic beginning in this cruel world. Her middle name is Grace and she was quickly coined Amazing Grace by my dad.

She recently brought home a paper she had written in her 6th grade writing class called The Time of My Life. She made an A, I might add.

I’ll just let her tell you about herself.

Here’s her story:

When I was born I cried like a squealing pig. My mom had me at 5:30 in the morning. My biological mom was very happy when I was in ther world, my grandma was rushing to the hospital to see me.

If you’re wondering what my belief is I’ll tell you. I believe in God and going to church and listening about God. Worshiping God is quite fun.

She goes on to talk about being in a play, who her best friends and best friends for life are, some vacations she’s been on and then she tells her story.

When I was 4 1/2, I was mauled by two rotweillers. My dad was asleep and my step mom was busy, so when I yelled for my dad, he did not hear me. I was in the back yard holding their puppy singing my ABC’s, then all of a sudden the mom and the dad came and attacked me. By that time I was yelling so loud that my neighbors could hear me, but my dad still did not hear me. Finally my step mom went outside to take the trash out, she heard a little cry, then she saw me. She ran inside and woke my dad up and told him what happened. My dad went outside to see. He YELLED go start the car. My dad ran inside and got a towel and wrapped me up and picked me up and ran to the car. He drove really fast to the hospital. When I got there they put me on an ambulance and drove me to the Amarillo hospital. The ambulance driver rushed me into the ER and got me into surgery immediately. After they turned me over to do the back, there was a huge gaping hold in the back. The doctors went outside and told my grandma and my dad that it will be 3 or 4 hours till they finished sewing all the hole back together. So my grandma waited and waited and waited and finally the doctors came out and said we’re done with the surgery and now we have to roll her back into intensive care. Later on in the day I awoke with a lot of people waiting for me to wake up so they could give me gifts and love. That day I felt a lot better. Soon afterward I got to go home after 6 or 7 days in the hospital.

Today I am recovered and acting like a normal eleven year old.

The jury is still out on the “normal” part.

Here’s an audio of her from a few years back You must listen.

Listen Here

Or try this: http://angelwheeler.blogspot.com/2010/01/listen.html

She’s the greatest. I love her dearly. She’s amazing Grace. God’s hands are on her life. It is evident. She is here for a reason. She is destined for something great.

Just wait and watch.

"Posme Newborns"

We’ve had a harsh winter storm crash into our little town.
So you know what that means. (Other than school getting cancelled, Yippee!!) It means the outside dogs who are never allowed in the house because they drive me crazy, are now in the house with me.
As I was giving them their potty break earlier, I was reminded of a snowstorm last spring that traumatized me and nearly forced me into counseling.

These are the events that transpired April 2009.

Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help you God?
I do.

Can you tell us what you witnessed last April Mrs. Wheeler?

It had snowed throughout the night. The morning was beautiful, still, and crisp. The sun radiantly shone through the newly budding trees. Sparkles glinted on the snow. I hesitated letting the dogs out to demolish the glorious canvas left from the springtime snow.
Rather than clean up their, you know, I memorized the portrait before my eyes and opened the door.

They bounded out, kicking up snow, sticking their noses in, rooting around, and turning it yellow.
It’s a dog’s life.

When I noticed our big dog Drew taking particular interest in the little wooden porch that we have around an out building. Ears up, tail wagging, he began sniffing under the porch, peeking under the porch, whimpering, and running from one end to the other, trying to fit his fat dog butt underneath. It was obvious there was a little critter hiding. Aw, he wanted to play. A squirrel more than likely would run out any minute and scamper up a tree.
What started as casual curiousity for Drew, soon became a frenzy. He was relentless. He would not settle with just knowing there was something under there. He began to dig like he was on crack cocaine. Throwing snow and then mud behind him. I began to scream at him for tearing up the yard. ~~Because he is the most obedient dog in the world~~, he completely ignored me and dug faster, deeper, and harder. Then as quick as a wink, he dove his fat head underneath the wooden porch and pulled this ginormous rat creature out. He started to thrash his head about, shaking it violently, biting it, as it’s long tail hung to the ground.

Go on. Take your time.

I panicked. I was not prepared for this. I couldn’t watch. I covered my eyes. I retreated to the house. Fight or flight? I think I’ll take flight thanks. I was thinking he would surely quit. But he continued to shake his victim. It became limp in his mouth. He would then drop it, then drag it around the yard. Then pick it up again, biting its fleshy middle. I watched from the window as blood covered his white neck and mouth and began to mix with the mud and the snow. Puffs of hot dog breath rose in the cold morning air as he stood over this dead and soon to be mangled possum. I just couldn’t take it any longer. Enough is enough. Killing it is one thing, playing with it is entirely another. And if he started eating it, I was going to throw up.

Still in pajamas, purple bathrobe, and furry snowboots, I threw the door open, stormed out, grabbed a shovel that was leaning against the house and ran towards him, my shrill screams breaking the silent morning. I had become the hunter now, and he the hunted. Seeing the shovel raised, the crazed look in my eyes, and my bed head, he quickly decided his playtime was over. He dropped the possum and backed off.

Have you had experiences with possums before?

I must tell you, I’m not a stranger to dead possums. I’ve shoveled many a dead possum (never bloody) into the dumpster after my old dog would kill them. This was not an unfamiliar task for me.

But Drew did not like me shoveling his fresh kill. He kept trying to take it from me. He was hampering my progress. I couldn’t put him back in the house with his muddy, wet paws and bloody muzzle so I had no choice but to lock him up while I disposed of the varmint.

Were you able to dispose of the corpse?

I tried, but I couldn’t get it on the shovel. It was like a ragdoll. A warm ragdoll. It may have helped if I would have watched what I was doing, but my head was turned and my eyes were squeezed shut the whole time. I ended up scooting it across the yard 4 or 5 feet leaving a trail of blood. Defeated, I put a bucket over it and left it for my manly husband.

The pretty snow was no longer. My backyard was now a battlefield.
Traumatized and scarred, I returned to the house and put it all behind me. It was over.
Or so I thought.

And then what happened?

Days passed. The snow melted quickly. Springtime advanced. Then on Saturday, while playing in the backyard, my niece wandered across two hairless baby possums, yet to open their eyes, lying under a tree almost side by side. The tree where the possum had lain with a bucket over her. They each were no bigger than a jalapeno pepper. Feeling compassionate, and since they didn’t require a very deep hole, we gave them a proper burial, unlike their mother who was rotting in the dumpster. Ashlynn made a memorial headstone from a brick and decorated a rock in their honor.

I was disturbed once again by this. I pondered it, and then I googled it. I learned a few things that day. Possums are marsupials. They have a pouch that their babies stay in. I pondered more, and am led to believe that on that snowy day in April, those two little babies were in their mama’s pouch during her murder. Mama possum’s only defense was playing dead. Did she think of her babies in her last moments? Realizing their mama was dead, the newborns attempted survival by crawling out, only to die later. Whether by starvation or freezing, we’ll never know. What a cruel, cruel world.

After hearing the testimony and based on the evidence, it leaves me no choice, but to find the defendent guilty as charged, to be sentenced to an undetermined amount of time behind bars.

May God Have Mercy On Your Soul.

Drew (left) guilty of possum murder, Grace (right) guilty by association.

The defendent, Drew Miller and his accomplice Grace, have since been released for time served and good behavior. The possum graveyard remains in tact. Mrs. Wheeler is recovering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and relives this tragic event at every snowfall.

The Joy of Pets

I have these two dogs.

A couple of maniacs, they are.

Between the two of them, I think they share one brain.

They live outside and that’s good.

But lately we’ve had a cold snap, and that’s putting it lightly.

Our current conditions are 18*F + 30 mph winds = 1* wind chill.

A great blue northern has settled on these golden plains, dusting a fine white frosting on the grasses, blowing anything that isn’t tied down, and turning the most good-natured among us into down-right grouches.

So, the maniacs get to come inside for the night.

It’s a simple case of cause and effect.
The temp goes down —–> the dogs come in ——–> my blood pressure goes up.

They run.
They roll.
They sniff.
They fart.
They slobber.
They wrestle.
They fart.
They dribble.
They lick
They chew.
They fart.

And finally……..

they lay down……

and they fart.

And fart.