Changing The Way I See

I have never used Firefox browsers before but I've hear a lot about in from various sources. This week, I downloaded it at work and thought it looked pretty good. Today, I downloaded it at home and I am sold. Everything looks better! Why in the world is that?

And it is so much faster! I have an old system (500 mhz!) and no money to buy a new one. So, I have to get the most out of this one. The browser is really faster!

My sites look so much better and the graphics seem sharper. That makes no sense to me! There are some need addons that you can try and even themes to change the look. I just made it look like the XP silver to blend in with everything.

If you haven't tried Firefox, you should test drive it today. If you don't like it, you can remove it.

Recovery

I'm trying to recover from a stressful weekend. I did not go to work today because I am not feeling well. I'm tired from lack of sleep and I have a headache because I didn't take some medication on time.

I was looking over my contact and I see I have nearly all my wonderful friends and a few new one that I think I will enjoy having here. For the new, my blog is not just where I gripe or whine, although I am apt to do both, it is also where I write at times and post news about what is happening to me, my family, and maybe the world around me. So, some days you may be bored to tears while other you may be laughing or crying. If the latter is true, I have succeeded.

My love is writing and I have a couple of things going on in that area. I have a novel in progress posted on Blogger. Hidden in the Mist is an invitation only blog that I am working on. The last month has been a bit of a problem and so I have not posted anything. I need to catch up a bit.

However, Thursday is the kickoff for the National Novel Writing Month (hereafter referred to as NaNoWriMo). I am trying for the second year to write 50,000 words in 30 days. I have been thinking and planning on what to write this year, as opposed to my seat of the pants, spur of the moment, off the cuff mode of last year that garnered me just over 30,000. I was elated to reach that but felt I could have done better. Check some of the older post and you will see what caused my shortage. To help me keep a bit more on target, I have started a blog for this years challenge. I will be able to access it from any computer and can therefore write whenever I have a chance. I am hoping this will help me build my word count and keep it up.

I hope everyone has a great week. Mine will be long and tedious. End of month usually is.

Pain levels are up but I think it is because of too little rest. I hope to take care of that tonight.

Happy Birthday from Chevy

I was looking forward to the weekend. It is my birthday Sunday and my aunt and uncle are coming up from Atlanta. But my car broke down last night and I am depressed.

I do not know what is wrong but it won't back up. My concern now is that it is going to cost me money I don't have. I have no credit cards anymore so I can't charge it. And I owe more that the stupid car is worth. I didn't buy the junk heap, my husband did. And I can't afford a $300 a month car payment!

Any constructive ideas are welcome. All prayers are too.

Happy blinking Birthday.

Coming Home Late

This story originally appeared in The Haven Times newsletter and is posted on my website, www.cindysplace.4t.com. I am posting it here because the message hasn't changed and today is the Lord's Day. Permission is not granted to repost on any other site. You may forward the web address to this site if you want to share it.

Mama let me date him because he was a “church boy”, meaning he went to our church. She also knew his mother and so it was all right. To my 14-year-old eyes, he was wonderful. He was 16 and had a car. He was tall and played the guitar. And I was the new girl in town.

It was a small church and I was one of three teenaged girls. One of them already had a boyfriend outside the church. Her sister, Debbie, and I were the same age and immediately at odds with one another. We all know about green pastures and he saw a break in the fence.

We dated through the summer and into the school year. During one of the first football games of the season, we were on a date and he was supposed to pick up his brother after the game, truly the cuter of the two but with no car.

My curfew was always 10:00 p.m., no matter what. I seldom rebelled on any rule Mama set but then, it never occurred to me that I could. Nevertheless, we rode around the parking lot looking for his brother and the clock kept ticking. He finally said he better get me home. Suddenly, I knew Mama wouldn’t mind if we were a bit late. After all, his brother was my age and was standing around somewhere waiting for his ride. We couldn’t leave him here. The stadium would be empty soon. He would have to stand around in the dark, alone, waiting for his ride that was not there because it was taking me home.

At 11:00 p.m. we pulled up into my yard, without the brother. And as my young man walked me to the front door, Mama got up from her rocker and, in a quiet voice, said, “Do you know what time it is?” Well, of course, we did, but I don’t remember thinking that she was asking for the time.

We both said, “Yes, m’am.” She proceeded to tell me who I was and what I was supposed to know. During the course of her speech she managed to politely tell him how much she thought of him and how she expected him to have me home when he said he would. I, of course, tried to explain about his poor brother standing somewhere at the school waiting for a ride that still had not appeared. Mama was sympathetic but unmoved. I had come home late.

It was a short romance and only lasted about three more weeks. We never dated again. He discovered his old school girlfriend, who happened to be one of my classmates. I don’t know if she had a curfew but my guess is she didn’t have my Mama. She tried to be nice to me and I liked her but I could never really hit is off with her. She wasn’t a church girl and she took my boyfriend.

I am a beast about punctuality and it is no wonder. My life has always been about keeping appointments and knowing where I was supposed to be and when. When I was 17 and dating my husband, he was always careful to get me home on time. Whenever Jerry brought me home my great-grandmother’s mantle clock was striking the hour. I didn’t have to tell him, he had a Mama, too. One night as we walked into the house Mama jokingly commented, “I believe you two sit around the corner and wait for that clock to strike.” We all laughed but Mama’s eyes twinkled at me. I had never come home late but once.

I have been re-evaluating many things that have evolved in my life and that only now I think I understand. I feel as if I have come home late and that Mama is sitting on the porch, in the dark waiting for me to roll in. I hear that quiet voice is saying, “Do you know what time it is?”

I have raised two sons and they now have wives of their own. I feel I did the best I could under the circumstances of our life but as I watch their foolishness, I doubt myself. I see the waste, the unconcern, and the lack of dedication. I feel like Mama sitting on the porch, in the dark saying, “Do you know what time it is?”

It is not just in my children that I see it. It is in a whole generation. There is time to spend hours living in a small box where a world of make-believe people live and fantasy events happen. There is time to spend hours at an amusement park, a ball park, the beach. There is time to cruise hour after hour along whatever street is cool and be seen by countless others just cruising through life along the same street. And I hear Mama, sitting on the porch in the dark, asking in a quiet voice, “Do you know what time it is?”

There is no time to spend in church. There is no time for prayer. There is no time for any pursuit that enriches minds or hearts. A thousand excuses overflow to fill the time.

“Do you know what time it is?” Never before have I heard that voice so clearly. It cuts me to the quick because all the excuses have been mine. At the time all of the reasons seemed, well, reasonable. And yet, “Do you know what time it is?

I look at all the days of my life and wonder. If life was like a carousal where I could capture brass rings of time as I sailed by, I would reach out and pull the ring of time that let me spend wonderful laughing hours with Mama. I would pull the rings of my children’s lives and never let go of any of them. I would grab the rings that let me relive the most precious moments I have ever known; putting my head in mama’s lap, my marriage, the birth of my children, my sons’ baptisms, every minute of their childhood, my children in my lap, my family reunions, my sons’ weddings. I would grab every ring of opportunity to pray more and truly converse with my creator, to read my Bible. I would grab rings to relive every exciting service I ever attended and re-listen to every riveting sermon I ever heard. I'd grab every laugh, every sigh, every heartache, every tear and I'd hang on to them.

I cannot recapture one moment of time.

Brass rings of time.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I only came home late one time. It took 30 years for me to realize what it meant.

Oasis

"I walked a mile with Pleasure,

She chattered all the way;

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

"I walked a mile with Sorrow,

And ne'er a word said she;

But, oh, the things I learned from her

When sorrow walked with me."

This poem is the ending to the devotional for September 19 in a devotional book of mine by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman. I'll tell you the name of the book shortly. This is my second copy of the book. The first was bought sometime between 1984-1988. I bought the original at a second hand shop. It had a devotional for every day of the year. Little did I know when I bought the book that it would be a lifeline for me for three years.

You see, when I bought the first copy, I was in a desert. I had no church to go to of my faith. Oh, there was one where I was but I had to leave for reasons I won't go into here. Let's just say it was a lot like David's situation with Saul. He ran for his life. I ran for my soul.

What is interesting is that the original copyright of this book is 1925. I didn't know one thing about her. I didn't know where she lived, who her family was, where she came from, if she was still alive, nor what religion she professed. All I knew then was that Mrs. Cowman wrote a book in 1925 that ended up on a table in a second hand book store in a very small town in South Carolina in the late 1980's. It was waiting for me.

For nearly three years Mrs. Cowman's stories and poems contained answers to tormenting questions. Innumerable times I found comfort when I became overwhelmed. I can remember times when I would read the day's devotion and weep because it was exactly what I needed at that moment. It soothed a parched spirit as well as any sermon I have ever heard although each day's reading is only one page.

You see, I was alone in a desert place. I had no church family to call, my spouse was not living for God, my children were small. I had not one single Christian friend in that city or state. Every person dear to me aside from my husband and two children were hundreds of miles away in Georgia, Alabama and Florida. A desert place, oh, you have no idea what a desert place. There came a point in time that I began to hear preaching in my sleep. I actually wrote a couple of the sermons down! Even I was shocked by that.

I can't tell you everything about that time because it is far too painful. I can tell you I came out of that desert a very different woman than the one who went in, partly because of Mrs. Cowman. God used an odd devotional by an unknown author to tell me he heard me and was in the desert, right next to me, every minute of every day. In the midst of the heartache, whether I was lonely, or hungry, or thirsty, in a dry and barren land, he was there.

Oh, the name of the book? "Streams in the Desert"