Jesus is my home-boy – Page 2

Shots.

In two short days, my baby girl has to get her 2 month shots.

Oh, how I dread it. To the very core.

She’s oblivious. She doesn’t know what is up ahead. But I do.

She is content and happy, living in her little 2 month world. Trusting her mama and daddy to take care of her, without a worry in the world, unsuspecting of what is to come. I want to prepare her. I’ve tried telling her about it, reassuring her that it won’t last long, that everything will be okay, that it’s not meant to harm her, but it’s to protect her in the future. But she doesn’t understand my language. I want to avoid this necessary evil. But I know she needs it.

When my old cowdog Fancy had to be put to sleep, I couldn’t stand it. It was the best thing for her, as she was in a lot of pain. My mother and I took her to the vet, and as much as I wanted to stay and pet her head while the needle was injected, I just couldn’t bear it. I left the exam room and cried in the waiting room instead. It was just too much. My mom stayed with her as she closed her big, brown, trusting eyes for good. I wish now I would have stayed with her, letting her know I was there.

With EK, I want to escape as well. I want her dad to stay with her and I would rather wait in the waiting room and not witness her going through the pain. But I would never leave her. I will endure her cries, and hold her tight, and comfort her.

We are told in the Bible that we cannot know God’s thoughts. Isaiah 55:8 My thoughts are not your thoughts. Neither are your ways, my ways, declares the Lord. But sometimes, I believe He allows us, in our mortality, to experience small, ever so minute glimpses of His ways.

He, as our Heavenly Father, sees the big picture. He knows what is coming our way. He knows our tomorrow and the days after that. He too wants to protect us from the pain and discomfort of our “shots”, but perhaps it is better for us in the long run to experience them now. When we receive word of death of a close one, or a troubling diagnosis, or loss of a job, or relationship, we are rattled, shaken, and upset. We don’t understand why it happened, but God does, and also why it needed to happen. We may be caught off guard, but He never is. And perhaps He too tried to prepare us. Maybe He spoke to us, told us it wouldn’t last long, that it will all be okay, that it is not for harm, but for our good. But we don’t always understand His language. He doesn’t abandon us to wait in the waiting room. He holds us close, speaks comfort and wipes every tear from our eye.

What an awesome Father we have.

My grandmother had this photograph framed and hanging in her bedroom for as long as I could remember. It is from the local newspaper in 1976.

The caption read “Mrs. Anne Briggs holds Angel’s hand while she gets her immunization shots. Angel looks nervous but didn’t cry. RN Berlinda Leyba of Texas State Department of Health gave shots.”

Maybe EK will have a little of her mama in her and handle her shots well also.

If you will, send up a prayer for her. And for me.

All Her Parts

Our baby girl turned 8 weeks old yesterday.

People say she’s tiny, but she’s already grown so much to me.

I tried to capture her in all her little 8 week oldness. She’s changing so much, so quickly.

Her daddy’s in love with her side profile. And all the rest of her too.

I’m in love with her eyelashes. And all the rest of her too.

A friend said it best. “We couldn’t have ordered one better.”

Thank you God for our Emma Kate. All of her.

A New Body

It made many trips down I-40 from Tahlequah to Pampa. It rode in the passenger seat of a red dodge pickup and when that vehicle wore out, a yellow Chevy pickup.

When he died, it rode in the back of my vehicle one last time along with the potted plants sent with condolences and a couple of cardboard boxes of belongings.

When we arrived home, it sat in the floor of the spare bedroom right behind the door. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I went about my day-to-day life and when I found time, I sorted through the cardboard boxes that had made the trip, discarding unnecessary things. But still, it remained.

When the spare bedroom began changing into a nursery, it sat on the floor watching while paint went on the walls, and office furniture was replaced with a crib. Like a child’s teddy bear with the eye missing and the stuffing coming out, it remained as a reminder.

It wasn’t valuable. It wasn’t decorative. It wasn’t useful to anyone. But it was such a part of him that I kept it around. It’s funny how when someone dies, their everyday things become such strong reminders of them. For my grandmother, it was a silver fingernail file that sat beside her chair. She probably used it every day. For my dad, it was a grimy, white Easter basket he used to carry his medication. An Easter basket. While other men have a satchel or a tote, or even a gallon size Ziploc bag, my dad used an Easter basket.

“Take one daily with a meal.” “For management of high cholesterol, take one each day.” “Take each morning and evening.” The instructions on each bottle kept him going for several years. High blood pressure, cholesterol, blood thinners, aspirin.

When New Year’s Day 2012 rolled around, sadness overcame me. A new year, a new beginning, only without him. Moving ahead, moving on, I knew I must. But I didn’t know how. And then I was reminded:

“For instance, we know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—-and we’ll never have to relocate our “tents” again.” 2 Corinthians 5:1 The Message

My dad no longer needed his pills. It was just a sad reminder to me of the temporary body that burdened him.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight. We are confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:7

On Monday January 2, I carried the basket to the dumpster and set it in. Don’t think I didn’t consider taking it out and bringing it back in the house throughout the day. I was home on Tuesday, the 3rd, when the loud roar of the trash truck pulled up. I heard the lifting of the dumpster, the bang of the lids as it flipped over. I imagined the dirty Easter basket and the bottles of pills scattering as they fell. I sat on the couch as the truck roared away, thinking of my dad and his new body. No longer sick. No longer burdened.

Today, he would’ve been 69 years old. He left this world February 26, 2011.

He is dancing.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I love you.

Is that You, God?

It happened on a Sunday morning two years ago. Or was it three? I really don’t know. Not because I don’t remember it vividly, but instead because I dismissed it as nonsense, ridiculousness, even poppycock.

I had gone to church that morning. Whether I started my day with a heavy heart or whether I became burdened during the service, I don’t remember. But it happened during that time of our church service when our pastor asked for anyone who had a need to stand right where they are to be prayed for. This is a common practice in our church. People have needs. We’re sick. Sick in body and sick in spirit. You shouldn’t have to leave the House of the Lord in the same condition in which you entered. He is, after all, the Great Physician.

I stood. I can’t recall my need now. Perhaps it was a broken heart. Maybe financial worries. It could’ve been I was feeling a sore throat coming on. Whatever it was, the Holy Spirit led me to stand. Which is not easy. When the Holy Spirit begins talking to me, my pride begins yelling louder. “What are you doing?” it screams. “Do you want all these people to know you’ve got problems? Don’t you care what they are thinking? Don’t do it! Don’t stand. You can pray for yourself. You don’t need others to pray for you“. But deep down, I know God desires obedience. It will be rewarded. So this time, my pride gets hushed, and I stand. I can feel all those pairs of eyes boring into me. My body temperature rises. My neck begins to burn. Then the preacher asks for everyone who is standing to have a prayer partner. The sound of shuffling feet fills the sanctuary as people rise to meet the ones who are standing. I feel hands on my back, on my shoulders. I hear whispered prayers being lifted towards the heavens. People interceding on my behalf. The prayers end. We clap our hands to the Lord, praising Him for what He is going to do. I look up at the ones who prayed for me. We embrace. Eyes are brimming with tears.

And that’s when it happened. A small, older man, who had never spoken more than a cordial greeting to me, with his dark skin and heavy foreign accent looked at me and confidently proclaimed, “The Lord will give you a baby.”

I smiled politely.
I’m not even praying for a baby I thought to myself.

We sat down, and as the preacher gave final announcements, I remember my mind drifting to what had just been spoken to me. I even felt a little angry. Why do people automatically assume that I want a baby?

Church dismissed and we went on with our day. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget that event. I chuckled to myself. Much like Sarah from the Bible did when she was told she would have a baby. What a crazy old man, assuming things he has no idea about. I told a few people and they laughed with me. How weird. How strange. How bizarre.

Now fast forward to November 2011. I’m walking out of the Sunday School room into a narrow hallway and I meet that same man. I doubt he even knows my name. His large brown eyes dropped to my bulging belly. He wagged his wrinkled finger toward it and in his thick accent said, “I told you.”

“I believe you now.” I answered with a smile. He went on to explain to me that God had been talking to him and wanting him to tell me. He said it wasn’t just once, but two or three times. Finally, he obeyed. Okay, I’ll tell her, he said.

So. He isn’t a crazy man afterall. In fact, he assumed nothing about my needs. He was obedient to the voice of God no matter how crazy it sounded to me.

Just as so many women were visited by a messenger and told they were going to give birth, I too, was visited by a messenger and told the same thing. But I didn’t believe him. Right there, in church, during prayer, as obvious as a lightening strike, God spoke to me through someone else, and yet my ears remained closed. I even scoffed. I wonder how many blessings I’ve missed because of my lack of faith? I hope I have learned my lesson.

God is speaking to you.
Listen.

Gobble, Gobble, Wobble

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, I know the song refers to the Christmas season, but I disagree. I believe the Thanksgiving season is the most wonderful time. It is my favorite by far.

This thanksgiving, 2011, I am blessed beyond my wildest comprehension. There has been loss.

And there has been gain.

How much things can change in one year.
This time last year, I saw my dad alive for the last time. We sat on the steps of my old house on a beautiful Autumn day as birds honked above overhead. I mistakenly called them geese. He was quick to inform me they were sandhill cranes. He always loved the birds.

We took a drive around the old Celanese plant where he spent some time working years ago, and although we didn’t say much of anything, I’m sure he was venturing down his own memory lane, just as I am now. Days gone by. Out of reach.

I snapped this last picture of him and my sister lying in the floor, right before we watched Four Christmases together. He forgot that blue handkerchief when he left. It’s now washed and folded and put away in a box of things, along with a pair of glasses left forgotten. He passed away the following February, and I have missed him everyday since.

But we shall meet again, and there will be rejoicing.

This time next year, we will have a 10 month old little girl crawling around, possibly beginning to pull up, yanking all the popcorn and cranberries strands from the Christmas tree. She will have brown hair and brown eyes and little dimples on her knees. We will play peek-a-boo and patty cake, feed her pumpkin pie with lots of whipped cream, and smother her in kisses.

And I’ll be tired, but it will all be worth it.

Things change. There’s no doubt I’ve changed.
And thank God for that.

Robert Frost said he could sum life up in three words. “It goes on.”

And thank God for that too.

I hope you take a moment to be thankful today and everyday. We are so blessed.
Praise God.

Cherish Loved Ones.

Be happy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,
Angel

Blessings

I have a hot drink, a quiet house, and a long to-do list, but I’m going to sit a minute and write. I miss blogging. If I had my ‘druthers, I’d stay home, write everyday, and make preserves; or some other similar lost art. It sounds idyllic, but I’m sure it would get old after a while.

J-Dub and Ash have gone on a bike ride to a nearby, near-dried-up lake, and I’m sitting in my comfy chair, in my comfy preggo pajamas, listening to the flock of birds that live outside my window in an evergreen tree causing quite a ruckus.

Today I feel so blessed. Most days I feel blessed, but sometimes it is an overwhelming feeling that I simply can’t describe. I believe it has something to do with Fall. It’s quickly becoming my favorite time of year. or it may have something to do with my little baby to be, Emma Kate. Oh I dreamed of her last night. It was the most precious thing. She was about 5 or 6 months old, and had the biggest eyes you have ever seen. She was eating a strawberry. It was the first strawberry she’d ever tried. When she got a taste of it, her big eyes grew even wider. It was like a taste of heaven in her mouth. I loved waking up with that sweet image in my mind. I must plant strawberries this spring!

For the past two years, I have attempted a pumpkin patch, and have failed both times. Ash used to have a flower-pot of strawberries and they would produce about 3 a year. I hope to have better luck with my green thumb. Emma needs strawberries.

I’ve also been dreaming of my lost loved ones lately. My dad and my grannie have both been present with me in my dreams. It’s nice to wake up after being visited by a loved one, passed on.

But mostly, my blessed feeling has a lot to do with God. Isn’t he awesome? He has given me so much, even the things I thought I didn’t need. He knows our every thought before we think them. He knows the number of hairs on our head. He knows us better than we could ever know ourselves, and the most amazing thing is, He loves us still. His love is bigger and wider and deeper than anything we can fathom.

I hope you know Him. Somedays I’m an ungrateful child of the King, and I think I’m too busy to spend much, if any, time with Him. But He doesn’t hold it against me. He welcomes me back as a loving Father. He’s with us all ways. Even before we ever knew Him, He knew us. Right now I’m reminded of a scripture, Psalms 139.

¹ You have searched me, LORD,
   and you know me.
² You know when I sit and when I rise;
   you perceive my thoughts from afar.
³ You discern my going out and my lying down;
   you are familiar with all my ways.
⁴ Before a word is on my tongue
   you, LORD, know it completely.
⁵ You hem me in behind and before,
   and you lay your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
   too lofty for me to attain.

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
   Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
   if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
   your right hand will hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
   and the light become night around me,”
¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
   the night will shine like the day,
   for darkness is as light to you.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
   when I was made in the secret place,
   when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
   all the days ordained for me were written in your book
   before one of them came to be.
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts,^[a] God!
   How vast is the sum of them!
¹⁸ Were I to count them,
   they would outnumber the grains of sand—
   when I awake, I am still with you.

¹⁹ If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
   Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
²⁰ They speak of you with evil intent;
   your adversaries misuse your name.
²¹ Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD,
   and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
²² I have nothing but hatred for them;
   I count them my enemies.
²³ Search me, God, and know my heart;
   test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴ See if there is any offensive way in me,
   and lead me in the way everlasting.

He’s always with us. Always there. May you have a blessed day.

Pinned Image

Baby

There comes a time in a blogger’s life, when she must decide if something is too personal to share. It’s easy to share chicken stories and recipes, possum deaths, and classroom funnies, but not so easy to tell others when you’re falling apart. Not for me anyway. There is an occurrence in my life and something on my heart that I want to write down. I want to be able to reflect back on this season. And I must decide. Do I want everyone who happens upon this blog to know my struggles? But then again, there may even be the wild chance that it might help someone else. Or even there might be someone who can help me. Who knows.

I’m a very private person really, although it may be hard to believe. A lot of the things I write are simply stories and day-to-day happenings that really are just for entertainment purposes and possibly posterity., I keep myself tightly guarded for the most part, but sometimes I find myself wanting to share my emotions. Today is one of those times. This leap leaves me wide open. Open to criticism, open to judgement, open to pity. Today I’m deciding to share something very personal and something that I’ve only shared with my closest loved ones. But I’m sharing it for a few reasons.

1) Prayer: It allows people to pray for me, which is all I’ve got.

2) Humility: It’s very humbling to admit when I’m in the valley. I don’t want to sin by being proud, and it is something I struggle with.

3) Support: By sharing, I hope to hear stories that will comfot and rest my heart.

4) Friends: I know I have enemies, but I like to believe I have friends too. I know that people care about me and I am overwhelmed by the love of friends and even strangers who I only know through this computer screen.

My pregnancy was unplanned and the shock of my life. It also has been a piece of cake so far. At times, I’ve even felt guilty when I see and know of pregnant women who are struggling with sickness, puking their guts up, hooked to IV’s, dehydrated because they can’t keep anything down. I know that God has granted me good health during this time.

I enjoy being pregnant. After I passed through the initial shock and the acceptance stage, I have discovered that being pregnant is an awesome experience. When people ask me how I am feeling, I tell them I feel great, but what I really want to say, but don’t for fear of sounding hokey is, “I feel honored”. And I do. This is truly an honor to be chosen to carry a baby. To know that I am working with God to create a miracle, if for only a short time. To look at the night sky, at the vast expanse of stars, aware that the planet I live on is a tiny mass in a small galaxy in a huge universe. And I, an insignificant, minute speck, have been chosen to carry this one little being, this little combination of me and my dear husband, to nurture it, and sustain it. Sappy, sappy, sappy, I know. But it’s true.

I am beginning to get a little more excited each week. My belly is starting to noticeably grow, and I love to lay on my back and press on my abdomen and feel that hard little ball of cells and organs, and imagine it slowly and miraculously developing into this being with fingers and toes and a little button nose whom I already absolutely adore. I can’t wait to meet him. Or her.

Yesterday, however, I received a call from the doctor’s office and it rattled me to the core. At my last appointment, I had an optional blood test done called an AFPTetra. It screens for certain abnormalities like Spina Bifida, Down’s Syndrome, and Trisomy 18, and tests to see if I’m a carrier of cystic fibrosis. All the screens came back negative, except one. Down’s Syndrome. This does NOT mean our sweet baby has Down’s Syndrome. It is only an indication that it is at an increased risk. I’m sitting at the “advanced maternal age” of 36, and based on that, it appears I have a 1:198 possibility it could have Down Syndrome. Based on the test, however, I have a 1:75 chance. This test has been known to worry and fret a lot of women, all for naught. It’s only an indicator of risk, not a confirmation. The test is notorious for false positives and more often than not, the baby is just fine. But even knowing all that, I experienced my first tearful, worrisome night as a mother. I cried, I fretted, I imagined, I planned, I prayed and prayed and prayed.

Next Thursday I will visit a genetic specialist who will give me a consultation and an ultrasound. The way I understand it, they will look for certain “markers” of Down Syndrome during the ultrasound. It also can not confirm the baby has it, only an amniocentisis can do that.

It’s an extremely scary, uncertain time for us all. My loved ones are praying and reassuring me that everything will be fine, and I desperately want to believe that. My heart, my hope, and my faith is shaken right now. But one thing I know: God is good, all the time. All good things come from Him. I know that this precious baby is fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together, with all his days ordained. I know that God will never give us more than we can bear. I know that this baby may not have been planned by Jason and I, but it was planned by Him, and is loved immensely already, no matter.

We will hold tight to our faith and not allow the devil to cause fear and panic into our hearts.

The scriptures I’ve been focusing on are:

Proverbs 3:5—Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all thine ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

Isaiah 41:10—Do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

2 Timothy 1:7 For you have not been given a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.

Psalm 121—I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

⁷ The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
⁸ the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

~Angel

The Whisperings of God

Each morning I take a 30 minute walk. Except when it’s raining; which is never. During that time of awakening my bones and joints, I lift my eyes up and talk to God and He oftentimes awakens my spirit. Some mornings, it’s just me talking to the wind and the sky, but once in a blue moon, I hear him whisper back to me. It might just be in the sunrise or the birds singing, but I hear it just the same and a deep calm covers me. It’s the only way I make it through this world somedays.

On Tuesday during our visit, I was a bit whiney. I was focused on the dry conditions and asking for rain. And in my desperate spirit I told him I felt like he’d forgotten about us. Was he listening? Did he care?

He didn’t respond.

Yet.

But afterwards during my morning facebook ritual, I read a post by my friend Chantelle. And although it was her typing the words, and although the words came from Restoration Place Ministries Word, it was HIM speaking to me. And this is what he said.

I Am restoring the things that were assigned to your hands by Me. I call forth destiny over you. The things that seemed to be delayed are now ready to be released. There have been moments when you felt downcast, you thought that I had passed you by. Look up into My eyes today & be refreshed. Look & see the provisions. Look & see the outcome; I will triumph in you. You will see great victory for this battle belongs to Me. I own it; it is Mine.

Reading that, it could apply to a million different scenarios that you might be facing. But to me, it spoke RAIN. It spoke showers of blessings. I said “Thank You Lord. You haven’t forgotten about us.”

That evening, JDub and I drove over to a neighboring town for some business and supper. During supper, my mom called to tell me that it was pouring rain. The power was out. The rain was coming down in sheets. The wind was howling. Sure enough, facebook was exploding with pictures from the townfolk of the rain, the winds, rushing water down the streets, and children playing in the gutters afterwards. It was awesome.

Although we missed the storm, we certainly saw its aftermath. It was a storm, I tell you. Out here at our place, a tree had fallen over into the barbed wire fence, my lawn furniture was a tangled mess blown across the yard, and my niece’s little playhouse was in about 20 pieces strewn across the pasture. When we moved here, there was a little structure left that appeared to be built for a child’s fort. My nieces took to it, hammering it, painting, it, decorating it. But it is no longer. Ash doesn’t seem to be too upset about it, which is good. She is the optimistic one who says maybe we can build a new one.

We received 8 tenths of an inch according to our raingauge, but other places reported an inch to an inch and a half. And now this morning, as I sit in my dark living room typing, I hear the thunder rolling, I see lightening flashing, and raindrops are hitting the rooftops and windows. The things that seemed to be delayed are now ready to be released. Praise be to the Restorer! God’s promises remain. And I’m standing on them.

Have a beautiful day wherever you are. Look for your blessings and you’ll find them.

Love,

Angel

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