Tuesday, January 29, 2008

A Walk Through the Orchard

By Dixiegirl(c)

Al and Joe took were neighbors and were in the habit of walking each day after work along the road next to the orchard. They each had their own path but sometimes their paths crossed. They would speak politely but walk on. It just so happened that one day they met along the road and fell into step. From that day on it seemed they were always walking together and so it became a routine they both enjoyed. Aside from their daily walk, they seldom saw each other.

Early one Saturday morning they got to discussing how lovely the orchard looked with it’s ruby red apples among the green leaves. Joe stepped into the field to the nearest tree and looked up. “What a wonderful apple. It is the prettiest red I have ever seen. I bet it is so sweet and juicy.”

Al moved to get a look. “Well, I don’t know. It looks all right but you can never tell. I think the apples that come though my plant are the best looking in the world.”

“You work in an apple plant?” Joe looked quizzically at Al. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it’s a fruit and juice plant but I am an apple inspector. It is my job to inspect every apple that comes through the plant to insure that only the best apples are allowed into our packages or juice.”

“Apple inspector? Wow. You mean that if it doesn’t pass your inspection, it won’t be in the juice?”

Al pulled his shoulders back, hitched his belt and sniffed. “Yep. That’s the way it works. It is my job to make sure the bad apples are identified. Bad apples are dumped.”

“So, what do you look for?”

For a minute Al pondered. “Well, we look for bruising, cuts, scars, color, and bugs.”

“Hmmm. Well, all these apples look fine to me.”

Al shook his head. “You can’t tell just by glancing at the tree. No, you gotta examine it real close to find any flaws. I mean, you can’t find scars and bruising just by looking at the tree from here, now can you?”

Joe hesitated and looked the tree over. “Well, no, but why would bruising, scars and cuts be on he fruit that is still on the tree? I mean, I would think that would only happen in storms or if the fruit gets knocked off someway and lands on the ground. But even then, it might still be good to eat. If you don’t mess with the fruit it won’t get bruised up. Fruit on the tree just needs to be picked and eaten.”

“Only perfect apples get in my juice.”

“Well, why would color matter? I mean a good apple can be any color.”

“Color could indicate ripeness. We want apples that are just the right stage of ripeness. I mean the juice could be bitter if the apple is not ripe enough and the taste might be a little off if an apple is too ripe. No, I have to be real careful about color, too.”

Joe studied the tree. “I still say these apples look great. I didn’t eat this morning and I am kind of hungry. My mouth is watering just looking at them.” Joe reached up to the apple nearest him. “Just look how plump it is and how shiny.”

Al shook his head, “I’m telling you, Joe, unless they are inspected by a trained eye you shouldn’t mess with them. There might be something wrong with this tree.”

Joe hesitated but pulled the apple off and sniffed it. “It smells good, too.” He bit into it eagerly. He closed his eyes, “Mmmmmmm, Al, that is the best apple I ever ate. I am so hungry. Try one, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Not me. If I want apples I get ‘em at the supermarket . . . after they have been inspected. Besides, I don’t really care for them much. I see so much bad fruit it kinda turns you off them after awhile.”

Al and Joe resumed their walk. Joe munched on his apple in silence for a long time. Finally, he said, “Al, you ever think about another line of work?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, why do we need fruit inspectors?”

“So, unsuspecting folks don’t get sick from eating bad fruit?”

“Don’t you think a person could inspect their own fruit and determine if it is bad or not?”

Al didn’t respond directly but said, “Well, the owner might not be honest enough to admit he had bad fruit. Fruit inspectors are necessary to keep folks honest. We insure the safety of the innocent. Anyway, I’ve been doing this for 20 years. What else would I do?”

Joe munched his apple for a moment then a light seemed to go off in his face. He looked at Al and said, “Maybe you could GROW apples.”

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance . . . .” Galatians 5:22-23.

We have all read or heard that verse dozens of times but one Sunday morning as the Bible class teacher read, something went off in my mind that I can only describe as a small nuclear explosion. I was awestruck as a new understanding broke over me. As I hurried to write down the thoughts before they slipped away, I remembered something else. Several weeks earlier, on the preceding page of my notebook, I had made a few notes regarding another scripture.

“Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” Matt. 7:20.

Weeks before those scribblings had led nowhere but that Sunday morning the pieces of the puzzle fell together perfectly and the picture that emerged was breathtaking. On Sunday night, while getting ready for bed, came the story A Walk Through the Orchard.

There is one basic question that we all ask when faced with the realization of eternity. “What must I do to be saved?” Most of us believe that we know the answer. But then, I took a walk through the Orchard.

In the Garden of Eden, Eve walked thorough the orchard and passed beautiful, sweet-smelling, fruit-filled trees. The fragrance of the ripe fruit permeated the air around her. But Eve didn’t’ stop and savor those fruits. Instead, she journeyed to the center of the Garden and looked on the one tree she had been forbidden. As she gazed at that fruit, a craving pulled at her soul and consumed her. Her mind registered the visual image of a tantalizing fruit. The image she saw answered three questions that her craving had provoked. She saw that the fruit was good for nourishment, it looked good, and it would make her a better person.

But Eve was not hungry. She had no reason to be. Nourishment was never truly a factor in her craving. There were thousands of trees in the garden from which to choose. She could have walked up to any other tree and picked the fruit of her choice. Any other fruit in the garden would have fulfilled her every need and she could have eaten as much as she wanted. In fact, all the other fruit in the garden would provide nourishment, it would look good, and it would make her a better person. She lied to herself. But, instead of walking away, she looked at the forbidden fruit, the bad fruit. She picked it, she ate it, and she died. We have all been inspecting fruit ever since and, like Eve, it is not because we are hungry.

In Mark 11:12 and Matt 21:17 is the story of a fig tree that Jesus approached in search of figs. When he saw the leaves but no figs he cursed the tree and the next day it was withered and dead. Interestingly, Mark is careful to note that it was not time for figs yet. So, Jesus cursed a tree that didn’t have fruit when He needed it. Jesus was hungry. Jesus was searching for good fruit. He needed something to eat right then, but the tree was bare. Because the tree did not provide for the need, he cursed it. And the tree died.

In A Walk Through the Orchard, Al and Joe marched along different paths for a time but eventually they fell into step. All along their way were trees filled with fruit. Al knew all about fruit. But Joe was hungry. Joe began to search for nourishment. And it is to the heavily laden trees along his path that he turned. He searched and satisfied his hunger with good fruit. But Al, who knew so much about fruit and had fruit all around him every day, had none to share and had no desire for good fruit. In fact, Al was afraid to eat any of the fruit that hung within his reach because he had not inspected it. Al viewed his lot in life as a protector of the innocent. It was his job to root out the rotten fruit. He lied to himself. In reality, he wasn’t protecting anyone.

There are Christians who feel a need, who believe it is their job, to inspect the fruit of others. In reality, they are searching for that which is missing in their own lives. They have no fruit to fulfill the needs of those seeking nourishment nor are they seeking nourishment for themselves. They don’t desire fruit anymore. All their time is spent on inspecting, searching for the bad fruit, not producing. They are barren and only by pulling the fruit off others, do they feel useful.

The problem is, when you start handling fruit, you damage it. You leave bruises, scars, and wounds from all the rough handling. Sometimes, the fruit will be so ready to eat that it can be easily knocked off the tree or bruised. Fruit that is knocked on the ground may never be eaten because it is so badly damaged from the fall. As a result, someone will go hungry because the fruit that was there to nourish has been destroyed.

Christians are NOT called to be fruit inspectors. Jesus never suggested that. At the time Jesus stated Matt 7:20, the disciples were not born again; they were not yet Christians. Jesus was talking to sinners and warning them of false prophets. He was telling sinners that if they were hungry there would be signs telling them where to get nourishment. Later, when he cursed the fig tree, he gave a profound example on the fate of those who fail to feed the hungry. The hungry are supposed to be the fruit inspectors. As Christians, we are expected to have the fruit available to feed the hungry. If we don’t, we will die.

I grew up hearing about winning souls but I never heard advice on exactly how one is to do that in a world where no one wants to listen. And suddenly, in one awe-inspiring moment and with brilliant clarity, I knew. It is the fruit that feeds the hungry. Fruit saves a dying world from starvation. Fruit sustains the weak. Fruit provides nutrients for growth. Fruit answers a craving for sweetness in a bitter world. We can preach a thousands sermons, recite the entire Bible on a street corner, but if there is no fruit hanging out there in the branches, the hungry will look elsewhere to be fed. And so, as I sat through that Sunday morning service, I had an overwhelming desire for fruit. I wanted it so badly I could taste it.

I found myself ashamed. I realized that far too often I spend time inspecting the other trees in the orchard for bad fruit and not worrying about whether or not I am producing good fruit. How many have come by needy, looking for nourishment and gone away hungry because they found nothing. God help me! I want fruit, so much fruit that the boughs break under the weight of it, so much that the fragrance fills the air around me. And I want to be hungry! I want to see a starving world fed with the fruit that satisfies all hunger. Winning the lost is not done with pretty speeches but rather by feeding starving souls. I don’t want to be a fruit inspector. I want to be a producer of fruit. God give me fruit so that anyone who takes a walk through the orchard can be fed!

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Wildfire!

During an adult Sunday school class, our teacher mentioned a time when, as a young man, he heard some older Christians in his church commenting on the behavior of young people as the power of God fell on them. They called it “wildfire”. As he said that term I recalled a time from my own past as a teen-ager. A similar thing was happening in my home church in Alabama. And while God moved, I heard a chuckle and the whispered, “It’s just wildfire.”

I was so struck by this that I paused in listening to search my mind on the subject. “What, exactly, is wildfire?” I asked myself. My previous understanding of the word was that it is a random, very quick, very hot fire that is soon extinguished. People use it to describe fads, shallow experience in the spiritual and some types of forest fires. Wildfire used as I understood it, was simply something that becomes hugely popular or destructive, dies out and is never heard from again.

When I got home I got my trusty dictionary and looked up wildfire. What I read set wheels turning in my head. Wildfire is not what I thought. There are five definitions in my American Heritage College Dictionary. They are as follows:

1. A raging, rapidly spreading fire.

2. Something that acts very quickly and intensely.

3. Lightning occurring without audible thunder.

4. A luminosity that appears over swamps or marshes at night. Also called “ignis fatuus” or “foolish fire.”

5. A highly flammable material once used in warfare.

Throughout my life, I have often noticed that when the power of God falls, it acts as a raging, rapidly spreading fire. It moves quickly and intensely, spreading across the room in a wave of spiritual heat, sparing only those who resist. When it’s work is done, everything that can be consumed in the human heart, is consumed.

We have all seen summer heat lightning or wildfire. Usually the sky is cloudy, threatening rain. The air is hot and so thick you could cut it. Then lightning streaks across the sky, over and over. There is no sound, just those amazing flashes. You think the storm is coming, may fervently hope so, but often nothing happens. . . at least, not where you are. Actually, the center of the storm is so far away you can’t hear the thunder, and you never experience the effects of the storm. Light travels about a million times faster than sound. At the origin of that lightning is a raging storm and those beneath it feel its effects, often intensely. So too, those who only see spiritual wildfire, seldom experience the effects of the spiritual storm.

Before flashlights and electricity, the countryside was a dark place. Swamps and marshes were even darker and marsh lights have led people to their deaths. The more common name for this type of wildfire is “will-o’-the-wisp”. An unwary person can be lost if they are not aware of the nature of this wildfire. Once thought to be lost souls doomed to wander, we now know that this wildfire is the burning of a gas produced in swamps and marshes. This gas, called methane, is created by the natural breakdown of decaying matter.

Methane is a very useful but highly explosive gas when combined with air, oxygen, or chlorine. It can ignite spontaneously and results in a very hot fire. The fuel in some acetylene torches is formed from methane. The heat generated by an acetylene torch can reach up to 6000 degrees and will burn virtually anything. Obviously, wildfire is not something to play with or treat lightly.

Greek fire was the name of an ancient weapon, probably a primitive form of napalm, used by the Byzantine Greeks. Upon striking the target, this material stuck, spread, and burned. It was used in two ways: as a missile hurled from a catapult, and in flame-throwers. It was very useful against ships because it burned even under water. One text states it may even have changed the course of history. In AD 716-718 the rulers of Constantinople, who were Christians, destroyed the wooden fleets of the Muslim Arabs who had besieged the city. As a result, this blocked the spread of Islam into Europe. If you fail to see the significance of this one use of “wildfire “ you have missed it all.

Sometimes wildfire is necessary to clear the way for growth. As anyone who understands nature can tell you, a forest can become overgrown. The useless undergrowth of weeds and shrubs choke out light and air, causing a decrease in young, healthy trees and eventually, diseases which can kill off a forest. Nature has taken this into consideration and fixes it, often by lightning wildfires. A lightning wildfire will rapidly and efficiently clear the undergrowth without causing undue harm to healthy trees. Once this useless undergrowth is cleared, young trees quickly sprout and grow. As trees age and die, young trees are waiting to fill their place. When Yellowstone burned so badly several years ago people were surprised at how quickly it began to recover. Within a year, new growth appeared everywhere and wildlife increased dramatically. The conservation officers revealed that the seeds of most of the conifers in Yellowstone would not germinate, or sprout, until they were heated.

“And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.” Acts 2:3. Looks like wildfire has been around a long time. Perhaps we all need a little wildfire.

Wings of the Morning

By Dixie Girl

Oh for the wings of the morning

that I might mount to the stars,

To pull back the curtains of heaven

and look on His face from afar.

The power and majesty awesome;

The beauty and glory untold;

The love and compassion beyond measure,

And worlds His hands gently hold.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Update

Alisone has posted an update on her grandfather and the news is a bit brighter. She thanks those who have stopped by and offered prayer.

I have to work tomorrow so this will be brief and I'll be back as soon as I get a minute! Busy, busy week! I am getting a new computer in a week or so. It is ordered, just waiting on Dell to build and deliver. More on that too. Working on Mist, believe it or not. I just have been so busy with work and in the evenings I've kind of just loafed.

So, I will have a lot to cover when I catch a break. Take care. I do race by blogs and read up so, you'll see my smoke here and there!

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Time, A Place to Pray

I have a special room that is all my own. The walls are lined with books and a lovely, thick, dark blue carpet covers the floor. A comfortable chair sits in a corner of this room. Next to it stands a small table with a lamp by which I can read. A window seat is piled with pillows on which I can relax and read. My computer is here so I can write. For times I feel like creating something to wear, my sewing machine is stored in a cabinet. There is a lock on the door to this room for the times I want to shut myself away.

It is a lovely room but not real. The reality is that I have no place like that in my home or anywhere else. When my children were small I had a spare bedroom all to myself where I wrote, sewed and had private time to read or pray. Now, they are teenagers needing their space. When I work there are phones and people. At home there are phones and people. Sometimes I want to run away just to be alone.

Our hectic lives often make it difficult to keep up with all the demands, especially women in the ‘90’s. More often than not we will have a full-time job, in addition to one or two children. If you are a Christian working mother, there are even more demands on your time. Non-Christian women may have time for a hobby or some form of entertainment, but Christian women have church services during the week. In addition to attending a ladies or prayer meetings, she must also find time to have daily prayer. And let’s not forget the cooking and cleaning. It is no wonder some women come to church looking like they just participated in a marathon, were mugged or never went to bed the night before. As for cranky, well I dare any man to try it for a week and still smile.

I’ve been many kinds of mom, stay-at-home, army, working and homeschooling. For five years I was a college mom. I was a full-time student with two children at home in 1992-1994. My husband’s job took him away from home for weeks at a time. Most of the time I was tired. No friends or family lived nearby to help with the kids or help out if my car broke down or if I became sick. And instead of offering to help with my load, my Christian “friends” criticized me for missing one service a week.

My day was long. I got up, got the kids off to school and was at school myself by 8 or 9 a.m. Upon my return the kids were usually already there. I helped with homework and cooked supper. Then I cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, got the kids bathed and helped with unfinished homework. I might have had time to relax but usually the boys were in bed by 9 o’clock so I could do my homework. I went to bed around one or two a. m. At 6:30 I began again. Saturday I cleaned the whole house and did laundry.

Donna became my best non-christian friend in college. One morning, during a break, we were discussing our harried lifestyles. As we discussed all the demands on our time she made a profound statement. She said, “We need wives.” We often joked about how much was required of us and how our husbands came in and got their favorite chair, asked for supper, and took a nap. It wasn’t really funny but it helped us deal with the frustrations. After college we both went to work. When we compared notes we found we were still doing the day job and the housework while hubby napped.

So when did I pray during the five years it took me to finish school? There were days when I was at home alone for several hours. I did a lot of studying then. I used some of that time for prayer. “Free” time remained a rare thing.

Every morning I drove 15 miles to school alone and in the afternoon I returned home. In semesters when I had a night class once or twice a week I made up to four round trips a day. On those frequent trips, I noticed people talking on their car phones, singing with the radio or just riding. I seldom listen to the radio in the car and I don't have a car phone. So I began to talk to the Lord. I told him of my worries all the way to school. At times, I drove to school thanking God for all He had done for me. I cried on my way home because I loved Him so much. Often I would arrive home unable to remember the trip.

I repeatedly apologized to the Lord for praying in such a manner. Many times a voice would whisper: this isn’t really praying; you look so silly talking to yourself; what will people think; and God doesn’t listen to this kind of praying. But I kept praying. I had to! I needed to talk to Him.

It reached the point that every time I got in my car I began automatically to talk to God. I didn’t realize how far it had gone until the day one of the boys and I had to go somewhere. As soon as I got in the car I began talking quietly to myself and he said, “Mom, who are you talking to?” I just stopped and stared at him. I was so startled I didn’t know what to say. I had instinctively begun praying the moment I started the car! That was the day I learned one of the many truths about God.

The scripture in Thessalonians which says to pray without ceasing has always puzzled me. I have pondered the idea of constant prayer often, but I didn’t see how anyone could do it. I discovered I was wrong. We can become so used to praying that it becomes instinctive, even in strange and unusual places. We can automatically break into praise and worship without thinking about it. Instinctive prayer! What a concept.

Some may say if you aren’t kneeling, it isn’t prayer. Too bad for the man with no legs. I once heard someone suggest that you can’t have a real relationship with God without an hour a day in prayer. Perhaps they had a whole hour every day, uninterrupted, in private. I don’t. Not many people do and so they just don’t pray at all. After all, if you can’t meet the requirements, why bother. Right? Wrong.

Others will say this type of prayer has no meaning because there is no conscious thought. It is true that no conscious thought is involved, but it is not true that the mind is not involved.

Every natural process in the human body is done without conscious thought. You don’t have to think about breathing because your body knows how to do it. You don’t have to tell your eyes to blink to keep them moist. Even your dreams are controlled by your brain without your conscious thought. And it is possible to learn to control your dreams while you are asleep. I’ve done it.

What could be more natural than to pray to the Creator? Words are formed in our mind and our mind tells our voice to speak. The Bible said “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh.” Our heart and our mind appear to be linked. How could what I call instinctive prayer be meaningless if the mind/heart is involved in the process.

Prayer was meant to be just as natural as our breathing or our heart beat. It was intended as a means of constant communication between us and the Creator. We should find ourselves breaking into prayer for no reason, at unusual times, in unusual places. There should be prayer over our dishes, toilets, and car engines. I don’t mean roll in the floor, jump up and down, top of your lungs prayer (unless you want that, but be prepared for strange looks, especially from your children.). No, I mean conversation and thanks for all the blessings we have been given. God loves it when we just talk to Him! If we spent more time talking to God this way, we might find some of our heavy-duty prayers get answered a lot quicker and more often.

Perhaps we should stop worrying so much about a “special place” or a “special time” to pray. If you have either, use it and be thankful. If you don’t perhaps you should be more concerned with making the time special. Take a ride in the country or to work and make your time a place to pray.

Monday, January 21, 2008

A Righteous Legacy

Several years ago, I purchased a book called A Dynasty of Outlaws by Paul I. Wellman. It is unique in that it details the history of outlaw gangs, primarily in the Midwest, during period from the Civil War until the early part of this century.
You may ask, what possible spiritual insight you could get from reading a historical book about outlaws? Actually, history is a great topic to learn spiritual truths. And, as I discovered, studying about outlaws can give you an amazing insight to the spiritual realm.
Wellman’s book begins with a description of a raid on August 21, 1863, in Lawrence, Kansas. William Clarke Quantrill and his raiders sacked Lawrence and left 142 people dead. The book ends with the bloody death on October 21, 1934 of Charles Arthur Floyd, a.k.a. Pretty Boy Floyd. What lies between these two events reveals an astounding truth.
“For the squeamish, this book is not bedtime reading. . .” said one review. Truly, for this is a book that traces seventy-one years of violence among a series of outlaws in the mid-west.
I was fascinated with the history, but I was horrified at some of the acts these men and women performed with no apparent remorse. Murder was met with the same excitement as a child greets Christmas. But what astounded me even more was the fact that in seventy-one years, every one of these gangs was directly connected to the previous one in some way. Mr. Wellman includes a “genealogy chart” of these gangs to show their relationships. Bear with me while I briefly review this.
From Quantrill’s original raiders came three groups of men named respectively, James, Younger, and Shirley. From 1861 these groups were separate gangs. The James and Younger boys united in 1866-1882 and a woman named Belle Starr became Cole Younger’s mistress.
The Daltons, cousins of the Youngers, formed their own gang, which lasted from 1891-92. A member of the Dalton’s gang, Bill Doolin, went on, after the deaths of the Dalton’s, to form the Doolin Gang.
Belle got a new boy friend and with her brother, they formed a gang. She later got involved with three other men and from 1880-1889 she had her own gangs. She is murdered and it is suspected that her own son may have committed the crime in jealousy over her last boyfriend.
After her death, Belle’s son, Henry, and her last lover, Jim French, Cherokee Bill, Dick West and Ben Howell, former members of the Doolin gang, joined Bill Cook to form the Cook gang from 1893-1895.
Then, Al Spenser, survivor of the Cook gang, meets up with John Callahan, Eddie Adams and the infamous Pretty Boy Floyd. Floyd has two more cohorts before his death in 1933.
The terrible things I read shocked me but the significance of this generational connection brought an even greater shock. Bloody Bill Quantrill was the father of a legacy of evil in the Midwest unlike anything I have ever known. In seventy years of death and destruction, each group begat a succeeding group, sometimes two or three. There were direct and overlapping connections within each group. Pretty Boy Floyd could trace his criminal roots back to Quantrill. What a horrible legacy!
I wondered later if any of these men and women knew of the connections they had to the past, beyond their own generation. Did Floyd know he was a spiritual descendant of Bloody Bill Quantrill? Did Henry Starr know he too, was a descendant? Did the Dalton’s know who they really were? Probably not. Each of them would have viewed their exploits as being superior to any who came before. And in some ways, they were right. Each generation was more evil that the preceding one. Each inherited a greater blood-lust.
You will think me foolish but as I closed the book, I thought about Quantrill and his dynasty, and I began to weep. What a terrible legacy to leave behind. He and his descendants left no noble deeds, no glory, no honor -- no good thing at all. They left behind death, destruction, sorrow and pain -- to themselves and to their victims.
Then I thought of my own family, my grandparents and great-grandparents. I thought of all the things I knew, both good and bad, about them. Into my mind came the memory of my grandmother telling me about how her father came to the Lord.
She told me about the time she was baptized in Salter’s Pool, a local swimming pool. As a child, when we passed this pool I would look down in the deep gully where it lay off the highway and think of her and imagine that day.
She told me about the camp meetings that were so prevalent at the turn of the century. I can trace my spiritual family back to the early 1900’s to a large, fairly poor, family who heard the early Apostolic ministers traveling through south Alabama.
Eventually, some were lost; some became preachers, and most continued on a walk with God until they left this world. Some of their descendents are still carrying on in the faith and some have joined other faiths.
When I went home a couple of years ago the pool was gone. So is my grandmother but the legacy she and others left behind, it remains. And oh my, what a wonderful legacy it is. It shines with promise and there is no shame in telling our children of the past or the future. There is a hope because someone blazed a trail and left a legacy of righteousness.

Divine Inspiration or Human Perspiration?

Who wrote the Bible? How many times have Christians been asked this question by those seeking only to debate? It is a question that often leads to a feeling of frustration and aggravation for those who are expected to have the answer – namely, Christians. What a question. And those asking aren’t going to like the answer anyway.

Did someone just start writing these stories in the Bible and add to them until someone decided it would make a best seller called the Bible? Did God dictate the words to all those men in different centuries, cultures and languages?

Long before it was a written document the stories of the Bible had been handed down for generations around campfires. Oral stories were the only way to pass on the cultural identity of a people. In ancient cultures those in charge of carrying the history were taught carefully.

The “tellers” were told the stories long before they could talk themselves. They were expected to learn, remember and retell the events that defined the nation. To not do this would have been considered a terribly loss by the nation and in fact, there is one point in the Bible where the oral history and traditions were not being passed down.

And also all that generation were gathered unto their fathers: and there arose another generation after them, which knew not the Lord, nor yet the works which he had done for Israel.” Judges 2:10

In God’s sight, this was a crime so bad that He punished Israel.

The first fully developed system of writing is only about 5,000 years old – far younger than the human race. Early writing was done on wet clay tablets with special pens and invented by the Sumerians. The shortest written item required painstaking time.

Even after the invention of writing the many cultures, including the Hebrews, still loved to recite the history of their nation. Read the Psalms of David in which he recounts great moments in Israel’s history. The Psalms and other historical poetry was written to read aloud so the nation would not forget.

Since each generation had more to learn, you can understand why it was absolutely necessary to invent writing. Try telling the history of the world on a cold winter evening.

So, the Bible was thousands of years in the making. It wasn’t even complete as we know it in Jesus’ day. Jesus and the disciples in their letters quoted from texts that are not even in our current KJV of the Bible! Many texts that were considered sacred by the Hebrews are not included in the KJV. In the Gospels they tell us that they could not include all the things that Jesus did. One of the things I learned in news writing was that there is a lot more of a story that you don’t know.

As for God dictating the words, well, the Bible said “All scripture is given by inspiration of God” not by dictation. For those who don’t know, dictation is where someone literally speaks to you and you write down their exact words with no omissions.

Inspiration, on the other hand, occurs when you see, hear, or experience something that stimulates you to action, it motivates you. All writing is “inspired” by something – good or bad.

Today there are those who say that because human bias is involved in all writing this “inspirational” type of writing the Scriptures can’t be completely true. It is accurate to say that human bias is evident in all writing. This is what causes skeptics to ask questions. And questions are not bad. They drive humans to seek answers!

For example, the Gospels have several instances of apparent conflicts. Examine the way one gospel will describe an event that is also described in another gospel. However, the differences are not because someone made a mistake.

I noticed this when I read the story of the crucifixion where Peter cuts off the ear of the servant of the high priest. In John’s gospel Peter is named but in no other gospel is he named as the person who cut off the servant’s ear. Why? They were all there. They all had to know it was Peter. And even though the gospels are written 50 years after Jesus’ death they would not have forgotten that night. Yet, only John named Peter as the offender. Why? And why did the others not name him in their description? Were they embarrassed or did they desire to spare Peter further embarrassment? Maybe.

Did John have a reason, other than accuracy for naming him? Maybe. Could John have been experiencing a little human jealousy of Peter? Remember, John was the beloved disciple but Peter had been given the keys of the kingdom given. We can’t know the answer and it may be nothing more than oversight on the part of the three other disciples. That alone intrigues me. I would find it hard to believe that all but one disciple forgot who cut off that man’s ear. It is an interesting puzzle.

Read passages such as this carefully and you may be able tell something about the personality of the writer by comparing the way writer describes an event with the same event described by another writer in another gospel.

Another instance is in the recounting of the Sons of Thunder seeking a special place in the kingdom. In Matt. 20:20 we are told that the mother of the Sons of Zebedee came to Jesus and asked that her sons be given places on Jesus’ right and left when he comes into his kingdom. Yet in Mark 10:35 it is James and John who come to Jesus with this request. So who did ask? Both stories say that the other ten disciples were angry with James and John for asking such a thing. Remember, the “right hand” in scripture denotes power.

Well, as a mother, I can believe that that mother just might have made this request. Matthew says she came with her sons, “worshipping him”. So she knew what power she was addressing. Or maybe the boys had asked Mom to ask for them. Maybe Matthew knew this and was simply being accurate.

Let’s say Mark also knew that the boys had put their mother up to this. In light of how women were viewed in that culture, at that time in history, it is conceivable that Mark may have discerned the source of the request and simply cut to the meat of the matter, not mentioning the mother. James and John were the ones desiring elevation; Mom was just a means to an end.

Interestingly, in this example, if you take things literally, it appears that either Matthew was mistaken or Mark was mistaken. Or you might assume that after 50 years anyone might be a little unclear. A person looking for discrepancies latches on to this type of example to prove there are errors in scripture.

Since I believe the Word is true, I believe this is simply an example of perspective. In both of these examples the event did not change, only the way it is perceived changed. Two different writers saw the same event happen and wrote about it in different ways—the way they saw it.

That is why discernment by the Spirit is so valuable in reading scripture. You must be able to strip away the writer’s bias and get to the inspired Word. To say a writer has no bias is an error in thinking. Time is not a factor to God and His creation (humans) has not changed since He did the creating. The men who wrote the Bible were exactly like men today. Every writer leaves his mark on everything he writes. It is the very thing that helps Bible scholars identify books written by different authors, particularly when the name of the writer is not known.

In 2 Peter the Bible says, “For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.” Holy men of God, motivated or inspired by the Holy Ghost, wrote the Scriptures and prophesied. It doesn’t say the Holy Ghost spoke. It says they, the men, spoke as they were moved on.

What motivated the writers of the Bible? An old, little used definition for the word inspire means to breathe onor to inhale.” God “breathed on” all writers of the Bible and they “inhaled” that “breath”. What does that feel like?

As a writer I can tell you that there is something inside me struggling, always struggling, to get out, to be said. That is what moves me to write. When I am able to put it on paper, it is one of the greatest feelings in the world. Writer’s block is a living nightmare to a writer. The struggle goes on but there is no relief.

I can also tell you that when God is the motivator a writer will often write things he or she doesn’t want to write but which a driving urgency demands that he write. And while God has often given me things to write, it is never easy to get it right. The things that come from Him are the hardest to put into words. It takes a lot longer too. I have to pray over everything I write, while I am writing it! Then I have to leave it awhile, pray, and start again.

I suspect a similar thing occurs with preachers. They choose the words they will use to convey a particular thought. However, the thought may not be their own but rather, the direction of the Spirit. Finding words that accurately convey the thought is often difficult. Two preachers may have the same thought but use different words to convey that thought. Again, it is never easy to get it right. And sometimes, when they are done, they still wonder if they got it right. Ask any preacher. I have no doubt that true men of God must earnestly seek the face of God before they can deliver a message from God.

So who wrote the Bible? It depends on who you ask.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Achy, Breaky, Headachy

What a Saturday! I spent most of my day spawled on the sofa with a migraine. In the six or seven years I've taken Imitrex, I've never had to take two tables but one time. Until today. I two two, two hours apart. It was that bad. I also have never thrown up with a migraine but twice. Today, I thought several times I'd make it three. It was the wost one I've had in memory.

Sarah spent the night with me and during the night, the shoulder that had been hurting suddenly blossomed into a headache. I slept badly and the headache exploded too. I had no medicine until this morning around 9 a.m. when some could go pick it up at the pharmacy.

So, I spent the latter half of the day, feeling as if I had been hit by a truck. I am still exhaused and on my way to bed. I've made the rounds but I don't think I can take another minute.

I am also sadly behind on Mist. Sorry. The last two weeks I was either running my legs off or I was laid out with a migraine. Not a fun week but I hope the next two days off will make up for some of it.


Friday, January 18, 2008

Nancy's Journey Ends

This morning, in the small hours of the morning, Nancy ended her battle with cancer. Alice called me about 6:15 a.m. to let me know. She said she had talked with Nancy last night and knew the end was close but of course, we can never be prepared for the leaving of a beloved sister.

If you would like to stop by her blog and express your condolences, you can visit Alice's blog or Nancy's blog and leave her a message.

Be in prayer for this family.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Since I Laid My Burdens Down

I have received such lovely comments from my friends since the last post. I will admit that I was so sad over something on Monday that I was finding it difficult to get through the day. It was not a life or death situation but it was a personal family issue that I don't want to come about and am powerless to prevent. The worry just kept coming at me all day. I really did have to say at the end of the day, "Enough. I can't change it." It didn't make me feel better but I expended a lot of energy on not thinking about it. So, I was pretty tired.

I spent yesterday evening reading other people's blogs and found that by the time I went to bed, a lot of them had made me laugh. Others gave me food for thought. And for others, I stopped to say a prayer.

So, I am feeling better although still concerned about this issue. It isn't resolved and I don't know the answer.

Today I have been overwhelmed by the thoughtful and even beautiful responses from you, my wonderful friends. I am priviliged to call you friends, blessed to be called your friend. Though I have never met most of you, there is a place that you have come to occupy in my heart because when I have been in dark places you came and shone your light and beat back the darkness.

Alice and many of you, my multiply friends, have asked what you could do for me. You have all done a lot already.

Alice, I think, you did more for me by allowing me to share your burden of worry and concern for your sister. You allowed me to be a part of a very frightening situation you are going through. I could not be there for you in body but I could be there in spirit and prayer. That was my blessing from you. And you have made me laugh for over a year, girl friend! I couldn't ask for more! But I know you willingly give more. I can count on you for the direct, straight from the shoulder truth. Alice, a gun-toting female Will Rogers who has me in stitches at times... from laughter, not bullet holes.

Sheila, sweet, battle scared, warrior woman, creator of beauty with just a pot of paint, brushes, pencils and a thought. You make me smile and laugh and amaze me with your determination to find the right path. And whose grandchildren's smiles decorate her blog and warm any cold heart. In the midst of your own pain you stop and bind up the wounds of others.

Skeeter and Amy my spirit-filled prayer warriors, possessed with vast qantities of humor.

Oh, Skeeter, my NaNoWriMo partner and mother of all, with her servant spirit, nursing the wounds of all as she serves up a heaping dish of common sense and spiritual truth. Another straight shooter but with a needle rather than a gun. Encourager of the sisteren.

Amy brings all that is sweet and kind and caring. She juggles her worries for her little girl and husband, pulls her hair over her family turmoils while finding time to say the right thing at the right time. Compassion would be her middle name.

Tracey has her struggles with her health but still stops and offers comforting Word and prayers and humor. She's a Dixie girl too and I can get a whiff of southern pine when I read her blog.

Lisa and Sunflower always have time to pray for a problem and listen to a whine and dance, offer encouraging words, and still share the amusing moments of their day.

Alisone (I know her as Maeve) encourages and shares her daily woes and whoops with family, work, Mr. Dante, and the struggle to make her way in a world as a competent young woman with chutzpa. I can count on a laugh most of the time and a pat on the back all the time.

I can be certain that Jilly's blog with entertain me for hours. Whether it is the antics of her polka-dot doggies, her five kids, her mechanically inclined husband, a contrary washer or computer, there will be something to smile or laugh about.

This is only a few of those on my contact list. And I could spend all night relating what I have gained from each of you because each of you has given me something important. You shared your lives with me. You have shared your troubles, you frustrations, and your joys. And still you find time to hold out your hand to pull up someone else. I've traveled the world to Europe and back. I have found very few places where such a diverse group of people could offer so much human compassion, and friendship.

And today, a few new people dropped in to extend their hands as well! I

had to put down the burden to reach them. I am really feeling better because of it. I wish I could give as much in return. Thanks to all of you.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Kings, Caves, and Country Music

I am in the midst of a quandry. I've spent the last several days trying to place myself in the grand scheme of things. I've learned ( actually a long time ago) that I'm not very important to anyone except myself. I don't hold a high position on anyone's pedastal. I'm not at the top of anyone's charts, although I may be on a few "lists". Most of the people I know only call me when they want something FROM me. They don't call to do something FOR me.

No, in the grand scheme of things, I probably rank up there with day old bread or moldy cheese. You can get it real cheap and it will do in a pinch. You can actually cut the moldy part of cheese off an the rest is still edible. Oh yes, it is. Cheese is soured milk! Mold is only on the surface of the cheese. Beside, mold is where penicillin comes from, too.

No, thank you, I do not want any cheese. It doesn't cure depression or disappointment. I've had a couple of disappointments this week. And you know, I am tired of the same people disappointing me!

How is that possible? Am I stupid? And why do we feel disappointment? I can't understand what makes me feel lower than a snake's belly. I tell myself that "it doesn't matter, I'll get through it" but I don't feel better. Do you know that there have been times when I have said, "I won't think about it." And I don't! But I can't always do it. Sometimes, it's just in my face.

My thought as I pulled out of the parking lot at lunch today was this. "This doesn't matter. I will manage somehow. I always do. I'll just not think about it." Now, I'm one who hates lying to myself. If it didn't matter, I wouldn't be wasting my time and energy feeling bad about it. If it didn't matter I wouldn't be thinking about it. If it didn't matter, there is no meaning or purpose. If there is no meaning or purpose. . . I'm not fool enough to think that anyone actually cares but if there is no purpose, I don't matter.

No, there is no point to this blog, it is just my time to whine and dine.

David said "Is there a cause?" Well, yes, sometimes there is. But for the life of me, I can't figure it out. Sometimes, things just don't make sense. No matter how much I look it up in the dictionary, research the web, scour encyclopeidas and devour scripture. Sometimes there is just no reason for some things.

I suspect David spent a lot of time in the caves wondering about his position in the universe. He didn't go seeking the Kingdom, it came seeking him. When confronted with taking it, he ran rather taking what was rightfully his. No one could have wanted to be King less than David. Can't say I blame him either. He didn't run fast enough.

As a child and young boy he probably lay in the fields watching the sheep and dreaming of what he would be when he grew up while he wrote country music. Well, he wrote them in the country with a stringed instrument and they are about all the problems he has, and livestock. Hello! Cowboy alert.

I doubt if he ever dreamed of being the king. It would have been sacreligous. I suspect he dreamed of the huge sheep farm he would have someday, perfect wife and beautiful brilliant children. He wrote a song about that.

He didn't get the sheep farm. He had some beautiful wives but he did stupid things to get them and one was a jealous nag. Let's face it, his children were less than brilliant. As far as I can recall, they were all pretty much stupid except for one. And even that one had some stupid moments. And like all country music singers, he always had a song to sing about his problems. Some of them were pretty depressing. So, my guess is that David spent a lot of time feeling what I am feeling. Disappointment, depression, failure. I just don't have any songs. So, I write blogs.

I don't know why I feel abandoned and alone. Maybe because my hormones are off. Maybe I didn't sleep enough. Maybe ..... maybe it doesn't really matter.

However, over the course of today, one thing has become clear. If I had my life to live over again I don't think I'd get married unless he was a filthy rich. Then I'd spend my life cleaning him up. I'd own my own mountain in the Smokies and have armed guards at the entrance. I don't know if I'd have children unless they did genetic testing for intelligence. Since that is still experimental. . .

But I sure wouldn't hang around in caves writing country music. Its cold.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Update on Nancy

Alice left a note the previous blog. She has returned from her visit to see Nancy. She says that Nancy is still among the living and that she is planning on staying there! Although she is blind now, she refuses to give up.

I'm over here cheering. And praying for her. Keep her in your prayers, too.


Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Do Not Go Quietly

My friend, Alice is on her way to Florida to say her last good-byes to her little sister, Nancy. They called her today and told her it was time for Nancy to go.

As many of you know, about two months ago Nancy was diagnosed with nasopharengeal cancer. It is an aggressive cancer and she was given weeks to months to live. Yes, it was that fast. I've asked all of you to pray for her numerous times and many of you have emailed me and contacted Alice through her site to let us know you were praying. I am thankful to have such caring friends on my list and I know that Alice has appreciated the notes and emails you have left for her.

Tonight, Nancy's time has run out. I don't know how many days or hours or minutes she has before God calls her name, but I suspect, from Alice's description of the past weekend, it will be very soon. The following is an excerpt from Alice's email.

Nancy had to go to the ER on Sunday, 01/06/08. Her left side was contracting and her had was 'drawing up'. She has lost control of her bladder and bowel.A cat scan was done - she has new lesions on her brain = the technicians quit counting after 20. Death is imminent - approximate time limit - a mere few days...She canNOT speak. But you can call her house or cell and ask to be put on the speaker, and Nancy will respond by writing on a white-erase board and someone will read it.

You can see this is not for the faint of heart. So, for this one final time, I ask you to be in prayer for Nancy and her family this week.

I am hoping Alice gets there before it is too late. It will be very hard if she doesn't get to say good-bye. I don't know what it means to lose a beloved sister. I have two younger sisters and the thought is beyond my ability to entertain. I know what I would be feeling were I in Alice's shoes. I know what I would feel if this were my child. Nancy's parents are still alive and must get through the passing of their little girl. Keep them in your prayers for the days to come. They will need it.

Nancy and Alice are my friends from 360 and just before I came over to Multiply, she got sick. Alice followed me over to Multiply and started a page for Nancy. I've known Alice over a year and met Nancy through her. We shared a love of writing. With each email, she encouraged me to keep pushing myself to write the story I am working on. I don't know if it is really as good as she said but I believe she knew what every insecure writer needs to hear. She fed me encouragement and lifted my confidence. If I ever finish it, Nancy will have played a big part. I am so thankful that I got to meet her, even if it was just a cyber meeting. I like her a lot. I wish we had an opportunity to actually meet and talk. I think we would have liked each other immensely.

Hug your loved ones close tonight. Tomorrow may be the day you have to say goodby. Don't waste your time on the foolish and petty arguments and disagreements of today. Bury them without grief. If at all possible, tell those you love them right now, before you close your eyes. They may not care today, but you can close your eyes knowing you did all you could, said all that mattered. And someday, they will be glad you did.

Good night, my good friend, Nancy. I am so glad for the opportunity to call you friend.



Sunday, January 6, 2008

Reading, Reverie, Rumors and Rants

Try saying that three time, very fast! I like my titles to have some bearing on the content. I read once that when writing, introducing something in threes was an effective technique. I've found it works really well with titles, something at which I am not very good at coming up with. Whew, what a sentence!

I have bit of a cold. I started taking cold meds as soon as I felt it coming on so I hope the worst will pass me up. Several people at work after the holiday have colds. The boss had it the day before I left and two others when I came back. One was on the mend but the other girl had to go home after noon on Wednesday. She was really sick with it. I was concerned that I'd get it during my time off but I stayed away as much as possible from the boss the couple of days he was there. I am concerned I'll catch it from the newest victims. I had to be in the room with the two girls this past week but I tried to stay far away and not touch anything they touched and wash my hands and even my face!

Normally, I wouldn't worry too much about a cold but Sarah gets very sick and if she runs a fever we are on high alert for seizures. So, I am medicating, keeping my distance, washing my hands obsessively, and just refusing to accept it. LOL Don't know if that will work but hey, can't hurt.

I had my massage yesterday. You remember, my sister bought me a gift certificate from a spa. She gives me one either for Christmas or my birthday. I loved it. She made my shoulders and neck feel so great! I came home and felt so good. Better than I have in awhile. NO pain anywhere yesterday. Today, a twinge in my neck and a longing to go back.

I've been visiting blogs this weekend, along with finishing the latest Martha Grimes novel, "Dust". I love her Richard Jury novels and have read all but one, which I did not realize I had not read. These are mystery novels. American author writing about a Scotland Yard detective. If you like long reads with great characters and good stories start with the first one. "The Man with a Load of Mischief". All her books are named for British pubs, whether real or not I can't say. I just know I love the characters and after reading her for about 20 years, I know them pretty well.

The blogs were all very interesting. Drifted into a few that are contacts of my contacts' contacts. Whew! I found a few that were really good reads. I recommend that you visit your contacts' contacts. There are some great people. Mostly, I just wanted to catch up on all of my friends. It sounds as if the week after the holidays is anti-climactic. There's not much happening, everyone trying to recover a balance after emotional highs or lows. No wonder people get sick this time of year. Perhaps too much stress floating around just wears down our resistance.

I went over to the Refugee blog and listened to the rumors that are still flying about regarding what is going to happen to Yahoo. I don't really care anymore. I still have my page up on 360 and will probably leave it until I get everything deleted or until they shut it down. I started blogging through Blogger before 360, so I don't have the emotional attachment some appear to have with Yahoo. I do like the on-line friends I found there and want to keep in touch if possble. I cross post to my Blogger blog, something I could never do with 360, by the way. So it makes it easier because I can choose whatI want to cross-post to which blog. It is awsome.

However, I do not miss the dropped comments of friends, the lost posts, the inability design the page the way I want, to add features like music and photos and interesting content at Yahoo that I get here. I do not miss the lack of support from Yahoo -- can't miss what wasn't there! And, if in fact, Yahoo adds those kinds of things, I don't think I'll bother. I'm learning to do things here and learning it once is enough for me. Yes, it is difficult but there are so many help resources it is amazing and people who know how to do it are just so good at sharing how to do things. All I ever got from Yahoo where help is concerned is a form letter and a "thanks for asking us" reply or I got instructions to consult the help file, which was no help at all!

So, Multiply, I'm here as long as you keep doing the customer service as good as it is now and as long as I can do interesting things to the site. I hope to meet new people and in fact, I've added a couple of new contacts. I welcome them and hope they don't find me tedious or boring. I can be both at times. There are times I come on and rant about whatever earthshaking event is happening in the world or in my house or on my job. I hope you are not put off by it and will continue to stop by.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend. I hope to go to church tonight. I didn't get to this morning. I made the mistake of loaning my car to my son and he decided he couldn't go this morning. I had no way to go unless I went after the car. Well, long story there that I don't want to delve into. Just hope tonight I can go.

Be safe, be well, be blessed.


Friday, January 4, 2008

Enough Stuff

O.k. I'm pretty sick of this whole mess. I have a horrible headache that I went to bed with last night and it has only worsened today. My neck and shoulder hurt too. I took two muscle relaxants last night to see if it would help but it didn't. So, my weekend appears to be going down the toilet if I can't shake this off. I am going to lunch with my son and his family and he has magic hands that I will ask him to use on the neck if he wants to get a free lunch!

I'd appreciate all you praying friends to say a prayer for me right now because I've had enough of this headache!

I have gone around to all your blogs and caught up with some of the reading. I actually realized I had not visited a few in over a month! Wow, what a busy couple of months I had. Nano and Thanksgiving in November and Christmas and two birthdays in December!

Now, I am focusing on working on Mist and I have to get busy with my church website. It has been down a year becasue I have computer problems. But my son said I could come over and put it up from his. I also want to work in my two nano novels from 06 and 07.

So, it would seem the rest of the year is already planned? {sigh} I'm tired already!

I will leave you with this thought:

Year
, n. A period of 365 disappointments.--Ambrose Bierce in The Devil's Dictionary


Thursday, January 3, 2008

Weekend Approaching - Proceed with Caution

I've been out since the 21st of December and the office was open for three days during that time. I am so buried in paperwork I couldn't see daylight when I got in on Wednesday. I am so thankful the weekend is only one day away.

I still haven't told everyone about our Winter Warm Up services. This was December 27th & 28th. Pastor Scott Graham from Illinois preached the night services and it was wonderful. On Thursday night he preached "Stay Out of the Woods" and on Friday night it was "Walls and Gates". I hoped to put something on here about them but I've just been so busy I have not had time to do much on the blog. Becca got them on cd so I may borrow them and re-listen to get some idea for posting. I wish you could have heard the whole thing.

I am going to stop now and run out for food. I have been wading through mounds of paper and can finally see a glimmer of light. I hope to be through with the five moves I have to process today! Whew!

I've changed the music on my blog but it isn't what I was hoping. I love the bagpipes playing Amazing Grace. I've decided to ask my family to have that played at my funeral. I also like the old hymns with the bluegrass sounds. But the ones I could post appear to be short clips. Still pretty though.

Hope you all have a great week and wonderful day!

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

New Year, Same Story

I hope you have all had a wonderful holiday season and that you have begun the new year with a commitment to your goals, whatever they may be.

For me, today was rather uneventful and tomorrow I must go back to the mines. I dread this but it is a necessity. My pain has been at peak levels all week because I had too little sleep. Tonight, I took a Flexril and will take another when I turn in at last to try and shake this pain in my neck, shoulders, arms and back. I really have to start going to the Y regularly now. I dread that too since every New Year's liar will crowd the place for two months.

I just posted the 29th Chapter of Hidden in the Mist. I know a couple will dash madly over to check it out. Let me warn you, it is short, too. I apologize but at the moment, it seems to be presenting itself in short segments that just seem to lend themselves to chapter breaks. The nice thing about this is that I can write more often in short breaks! I've worked out some kinks I think and now I have to get cracking on this case with Samantha. There is a murder to solve and the mystery of the Circle of Seeing relating to Samantha's sight.

When I call these chapter, you must understand that on the off chance I get this completed, the current chapter divisions will most assuredly change. The current format simply followed writting perionds. I had to stop in the middle of something... so I break in places where I "feel" that transitions occur.


I will bid you all a good night. May the One Eternal God smile on you in this new year. May He grant you grace and mercy. May He bless your going out and your coming in. And may you cultivate a desire to learn of Him, grown in Him, and live for Him. May you quench the thirsting of your soul by drinking from the living waters that flows from the eternal fountain.

God Bless and Happy New Year

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Ritual Lies

Last January 1, I posted a New Year's resonse on my Yahoo 360 page called Lies in Fancy Dress. It was to all those who spend time lying to yourselves by making resolutions. I stopped doing that a long time ago because I realized I'd made a fool of myself two months later. So, since I am a big enough fool as it is, I stopped my ritual lying. Actually, I try to avoid telling all lies but ritual lying is the subject of the blog.

I must honestly admit that I failed to attain all the goals I set. But the difference in a resolution and a goal is where we've been set up to fail. Resolutions are are things that you must do and legally bind yourself to do. Your signature is at the bottom to signify that you swear to do what you have said. Goals are always before us and we continually strive to attain them, fully knowing that we may fail! It is the attempt that counts and the prize is reaching the goal!

We may crawl across the finish line, nails ripped and torn, knees scraped raw and burning, drenched in sweat, bleeding from the trips and falls we've taken, tears pouring from tired red eyes and dead last. But. . . we will have crossed the finish line! Our goal has been reached! Regardless of the condition of our body or the position in line, to attain the goal means we won!

In Philippians 3:14 Paul stated this goal - "I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." A "mark" is a goal. Paul had set the highest goal possible. He must have been a sports fanatic because because he talked about races, and pressing forward, gaining and attaining - all words that bring to my mind sporting events. He knew what a real goal was and what was required to reach it. And he knew that while failure was always a possibility, giving up wasn't.

Don't waste time resolving to do things you will never do. Set a goal, put it in front of you where you can see it every day. And never, ever, ever, stop striving to reach that goal. No matter how many New Year's come and go, no matter how many of the failed resolutions you pass on the way, keep striving toward the mark you have set.

Read the Philippians 3. Paul has numerous goals in this chapter and you may consider using them as a pattern to creat your own goals. You can do it! I'm cheering you on!

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Writing Fuel

Since the beginning of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November I've been generating more words on paper than I have in speech! My change over to multiply has also made a difference in the word process. I seem to be putting up more focused content most of the time. I don't know if that is because the NaNoWriMo or because of Mulitply. Perhaps it is a bit of both.

I've been working on Hidden in the Mist (working title) because I have a reader hounding me to get to it. In the last couple of days some things have become more focused regarding the story. And it is about time, since my word count is over 45,000 but it has taken a year to get there! For those of you who don't have a clue about HITM I apologize. It would take too long to explain here but for those reading it (Alice) this might give you some insight.

This morning as I fixed a cup of Hazelnut coffee (Mmmmm, as Lisa says) I began to think about power. We all have power in us that is untapped, possibly because it is unknown to us. I don't mean mind bending or disappearing elephants magic. I mean mountain moving power that simply requires us to speak it or think it. The abiltiy to speak into existance things that weren't but are. There lies within each of us the ability to speak into existance good things or bad things. Motivation is what directs this power: why do we want something to exist? Negative reasons will create negative outcomes. Positive reasons will create positive outcomes. Do not come here and tell me this is impossible. I won't be deterred by the blind. You see, I've proved it too many times, both the negative and the positive. I KNOW it works.

So, as I drank my coffee and pondered my story I relized that this is what Mist is all about. Two worlds and untapped, unrecognized, misused power.

We live in a world that exist within worlds. It is a world suspended between two worlds and our world is a mixture of both. We hang between the two and are faced every day with the choice of which world we would like to inhabit.

One is a place of pollution, violence, anger, frustrations, murder, deceit, avarice, extortion, and disrespect. This world glows with a light that, from a distance, is alluring, exciting our senses. It is filled with unknown wonders; sights and sounds that please the eyes and ears and gorge the body. We are drawn to it's glittering promise, deeper and deeper until we step across the boundary into the unknown, a place that suddenly reveals that it is dark and frightening. We don't know how we got there and we can't find our way out. Every attempt sends us back into the dark. Only once in a while may we escape. But it has left it's mark.

The other world is a place of beauty, peace, harmony, respect and honor, a place where love abounds and brotherhood is in the air we breath. Every need is met. We have only to ask. It isn't shinning glittering towers of commerce, superficial decoration, and empty promises. It isn't a place of gluttony of the body but of satisfied spirit and mind. It is a place that glows with a light far brighter than any man can generate because the pollution doesn't exist. And once in awhile, we find our way there. We step across the boundary, into that world that seems at first glance, plain and untouched by progress. But, if we stay long enough, we realize that here is rest and sustenance that is constant. Here is peace and safety. None go lacking. We realize that this world is real and we can stay as long as we desire. We can leave whenever we want. And some do.

We are drawn to the one by our eyes. We are drawn to the other by our hearts. Occassionally, there are those who step into the real world with only one goal, to steal the hearts and draw us back through the Mist. It is a choice for each of us. How we choose will determine our course for eternity.

Choose wisely.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Worth a Thousand Words


We set off along the path that lead down to the church. The snow crunched beneath our feet and our breath hung in the air in clouds. The night was filled with that hush that one only hears during a heavy snowfall. Around us the trees creaked beneath the weight of snow and ice in their branches. Occasionally, we heard a snapping sound followed by a crash as a limb gave way beneath its load. Everything has a breaking point, I thought.


My heavy coat gave me a sense of warmth but everywhere the air touched was chilled. My cheeks felt frozen and my lips numb. The tip of my nose tingled. I pulled my scarf up, around my face, leaving only my eyes so I didn't fall down. I'd probably be all right if I did fall. The ground was like a feather bed.

We came out of the trees just west of the church, near Harper’s pasture. The moon was above the horizon and glowed in an opening in the clouds. I could see the church on the left and the Cooper place on the right. Their tall spruce decorated in colored lights that glowed against the snow frosted branches and turned the snow beneath it into a multicolored carpet from an some exotic land. Lights glowed from every window of the Cooper home and I could see Mr. Cooper's car in back. He must have closed the drug store early tonight because of the weather. Not many would venture out on a night as cold as this. They were a large family with half dozen children. Always when I walked by I could hear laughter or the wild chattering of playing children. It was a happy place. Even the snowman, in his scarf and slouch hat, wore a grin and waved.

I slipped my gloved hand into the crook of Tom's arm as we passed the end of the rail fence around the pasture. He smiled down at me and my heart leaped from the highest peak. He could still do that to me, after all this time. I slipped on a patch of ice and he steadied me, still smiling.

As we passed the church, Deacon James was leaving and he tipped his hat to us. Mr. Irving and his boy Billy slogged across the church yard toward the warmth of the sanctuary. It was such a lovely little church. I thought how much the windows looked like precious gems set in the walls. I suspected the windows of Heaven would look much like those windows, with their glowing jewels and the light of God illuminating them. As if to confirm it, in the stillness it seemed as if the voice of an angel floated out on the air and up the road, flowing among the houses and into the mountain valleys in the distance. It was Maggie O'Hara, singing O Little Town of Bethlehem with the choir. I doubted if any angle could utter notes as beautiful as Maggie.

The blanket of snow that lay over roofs and mountainside alike reflecting the silver of the moon created a strangely comforting landscape. I looked up the road and in the distance, I could see the lights of the other village houses along the hillside. We lived on the edge of town and from here, the warm, soft glow was as peaceful and serene as ever a place could be. We walked in silence past the church and as I hugged Tom’s arm, I thought there was no place on earth I’d rather be tonight than in this snow covered place, listening to an angel’s voice sing of the new Savior of the World.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

In the Still of the Night

It is quiet in the house. There is no one at home but me. I've spent the day doing good deeds for others, getting home around 10:30 p.m.. I've bought gifts for one set of children and my grand-daughter and my spouse. I still have one son to go and a birthday gift for the other. He was born on Dec 30th, an annoyance to both of us. And I have to get my sister something special. She shopped with me tonight.

But now, the house is quiet and only the clicking of my keyboard can be heard. Rain has fallen all day and it is a small, cold drizzle at the moment. The promised snow storm has not appeared but there are a few flurries here and there. I suppose we should be thankful but I do love snow. We Southern Belles view it as a special treat designed just for us.

I've not been writing for several days now. I've been restless and unable to forment a thought. So, here I sit, in the stillness of the midnight trying to convey what I am thinking. There is something about midnight that I really love. I tend to be a night owl and this is one of my favorite times. The world has all drifted off on whatever dreams they dream. The racous glare of the day has slipped into a quiet darkness that I can wrap about my shoulders like a velvet cloak and stroll along silent streets that echo the sound of my heels. Or I can simply sit here, in my dimly lit study and write about the cushion of darkness that buffers me from the harsh reality of the daylight.

Perhaps that is what I really like about the midnight hour. All the troubles of the day, the trials and tribulations of dealing with people or just the trauma of survival are somehow lessened in the down-filled darkness where the gentle twinkle of stars and a silver orb lull one into a sense of peace.

Dreams are dreamt at night because the intrusion of reality is weakened at night and the mind can race along paths never opened in the light of day. God is closer at night. I think it is why more people die at night. It's true, you know, they do. Ask the hospitals. I don't believe they are giving up because the darkenss overwhelms them. I think their bodies struggle in the light of day to survive but with the coming of midnight, they find that, in the stillnes of the night, is a sense of peace that becomes a stronger draw than survival.

I'm going to bed soon and dream some dream that will be driven back by the rising of the sun. Another day to survive until the still of the night returns.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Top of the Hill

Ah, Wednesday. Standing at the top of the hill looking down is an awesome sight. If I look behind me there is a pile of stuff back there. Best be careful and not tip over or I'll end up back at the bottom!

But forward, well, it's a steep road down. I don't have much head for heights anymore. (Me the tree climbler and roof runner. That's another day's story.) And there is just as much stuff on the downhill side as there was on the uphill side. Thing just go faster on the downhill side. I just have to check the wheels on my skates. Yep, they are running smooth as silk. It isn't my equipment but the debris in the road that is the killer!

We had a case manager leave and they distributed her case load between the five remaining case managers. That leave me with 365 case files. In additiion to the landlord accounts. I've getting buried quickly, particularly since the girl who left has files no one wanted because they are such a mess.

However, God gave me this job a long time ago and as long as I am here I guess He still wants me to do it. So, {rolling up sleeves and pushing back hair} here goes.

Several have said a prayer for me and I do appreciate it. My husband suggested I stay home today and it sounded nice. But no sick time! So, here I am at the top of the hill. My pain level has been horrible. My back is in pretty bad shape today. It has been building for several days and last night it was at the point I considered going to the doctor. Shoulders are bad, particularly the left. My knees, oddly enough, are much better. I guess the Y helped on Monday night. They just are very stiff. I lower legs feel as if I have shin splints but LOL, I haven't done anything to cause it! I need to go back tonight but my back really is not good at all and has spread from the lower back all the way to my shoulders. What is it like? Hmmmm, someone took a rolling pin and pounded me on the back with it, all but the place in my lower back that feels like a knife is sticking in it.

Ok enough of the complaints. I hate whining over aches and pains but some days this is the only place to pour it out. And some things are better for you if you pour it out rather than keep in it.

I got my leave approved for Christmas. I have 11, count them, ELEVEN days off. I just took three vacation between Christmas and New Years. When I get off on December 21, I don't have to be back here until January 2, 2008!

I wasn't going to take it because of all the work but I finally decided it was going to be here whether or not I am here. It isn't going anywhere. So, I'll be taking that vacation time.

So, with all that said, I'll start my journey down the hill. Someone move that log out of the way! Here I go! YeeeeeeeeeHaaaaaaaawwwwwww!

Monday, December 10, 2007

Beyond Endurance

Somehow a rainy Monday is a nice way to start a week. I always like waking up on Monday to rain. I know, that's crazy but it seems to me such an awful day must have a redeeming quality if it starts with rain. There is something cozy about rain and any day with rain feels less painful.

Although, today and all weekend the rain has probably been the reason for my elevated pain levels. I have a doctor's appt this morning at my rheumatologist, not that it will do any good. I wish I could wear a heated coat.

I took four hours vacation time for this morning so I could do this appointment but probably won't need it all. I will go in to work as soon as it is over and spend the rest of the day doing work I should have done on Saturday.

I sat on the edge of my bed this morning an realized what my problem, well at least one of my problems is. I've been praying for strength for years. And you know, I have people tell me, "You are so strong. I don't know how you handle all you are handling. I couldn't do it." I realized, sitting on the edge of my rumpled bed in my p.j.s that the way you gain strength is by adding weight. Each time you reach a comfort level, you add weight. Once you can lift that weight comfrotably, you add more. Duh! Basic weight training.

The strange thing about all this realization stuff is that I went to bed praying to understand what was wrong. I was asking for answers to questions to which God never seems to respond. But when I woke up, the answer was there. You see, every time something got heavy, I'd pray for strength. The load only got heavier. I never prayed for patience, but when you are carrying a heavy load, patience is required so it is a secondary effect of the training. It takes time to build strength. Patience isn't a problem when strength is the goal.

It was at that point in my revelation that I decided now's a good time to stop praying for strength. I'm tired. I don't want to lift any more weight. I want someone else to carry the load for a while. I don't want to bear anyone's burden. I don't want to solve anyone's problem. I don't want to carry anyone. I want a place to rest and sit down while someone else gets strong, I don't even want to be strong anymore. Every weight trainer has a limit. You can work toward that limit and even strive to go beyond it but there is a point in time when the body builder reaches a maximum limit. They can do irreparable damage trying to go beyond their enduance.

So now, my body is breaking down from the weight. I can't carry any thing else. The result of too much weight is stress. The stress is probably the biggest factor in the pain I have. When I am off work for any length of time, I feel better in 24 hours. When I take a vacation from my family I feel better in 24 hours.

So, I guess I got an answer. I don't know if it is what I wanted to hear but at least I understand the cause. I just don't know how to fix any of it. Story of my life. When that happens, I've always asked for strength.

Not today.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Achey, Breaky Body

I've been busy all week and today I was supposed to work. However, when I woke at 7 a.m. to get up, I couldn't. I hurt all over. I rolled over and thought I'd go in a bit later, when I could move. I got up around 9 a.m. but still felt terrible so I just lay down on the sofa and went back to sleep. I slept until noon! Lazy bag of achy bones.

Anyway, I got up and did a load of dishes and then went out shopping for a very short time, looking for the kids Christmas presents. I bought for Sarah but found nothing else for anyone. I just don't know what to get them. I came home, and then my sister came by around 7 p.m. and we went to Sears where I preceeded to buy the skirts I needed. Bought four and got them all at about half off. Still too expensive but at least I have some things to wear to work for a bit until I can get others. Nice to see I could wear a 16 in a skirt. My top is still pushing an 18+.

Well, it is after midnight and I am going to get to bed. I still ache in places but I believe cold wet weather is my enemy. I have a heating pad in the bed to warm where I put my feet and I think this has helped me in the mornings since my feet are not hurting as much. Go figure.

Night all!

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Autum Leaves

It finally arrived. The cold, biting chill of Winter arrived on my doorstep, hautily huffing and puffing its way in, just like a rude vagabond looking for a handout. The pouring rain Sunday was a tearful Autumn bidding farewell and by Sunday night, Old Man Winter had arrived in full force and began to unpack his bags. Until then, he'd only stuck his nose in brifely to find Autumn stubbornly clinging. It was a sad parting and I will miss Autumn. But I'm certain she'll return. Spring will arrive and run the old man out of town on a rail.

National Novel Writing Month ended just before Autumn caught the last train. So, all in all, it was an exciting month for me. I miss NaNoWriMo, too.

So, here we are, in the midst of a chill following the thrill. I find myself excited about moving forward on some things. I want to work on Mist and move the story forward. I also want to pull out a story I started some time ago that has morphed a bit. It's called Dark Mountains and my unnamed 2006 NaNoWriMo is the sequel that. So, a lot of stuff to work on in that department.

I also need to make some clothes. I have reached a point that I'm beginning to wear out the skirts I bought. . . well, I'm embarrassed to say how long ago, but let's just say they are no longer fit to work in. In my job I have to look fairly professional and I wear black skirts a lot. So, must either buy them or make them. I want to sew for Sarah so I can sew for me while I am at it.

Christmas is weeks away and I have to put up the tree. I suspect I won't have any Christmas time off. I asked for three days but even if they are approved, I may not take it. I will be completely out of vacation time if I do and I'm not comfortable with that. We'll just have to see.

Thus begins December. I'll be busy and ready for the approaching new year. I suspect it to be a year of changes and surprises. Keep dropping by and see what happens.

Monday, December 3, 2007

T'is The Season

It is so neat the way everyone is trying on new holiday backgrounds in their blogs. Some of us are copying each other's backgrounds. For women, it is a bit annoying for another woman to show up somewhere wearing the same dress as another. I hope copying blog backgrounds doesn't cause the same annoyance. The first time it happened to me, my nose was a but out of joint but then I realized that all these nice extras multiply provides is why I love it. And the people creating the backgrounds are willingly sharing them. How generous to give your work away! So I went an copied someone else's background.

This morning, I visited my friend, Skeeter's blog and found she was dealing with the old Christmas tree/pagan idol thing. It is an interesting argument and one that has been around for decades. I think she and her husband have worked it out.

We had a tree at Christmas all my life but I was never under any impression other than my family celebrates Christmas because it is the day we honor the birth of Jesus Christ, our savior. We can't know exactly what day he was born on so, someone used a day, widely celebrated at the time, to mark the most momentous event in history. I think that overshadowed whatever the pagan ritual was back then.

But there will always be people who feel strongly about Christmas trees. Not too long ago I found that Christmas trees are actually mentioned in the Bible. Oh, they aren't called that but when you read it you won't have any problem understanding what it is talking about. Frankly, I always check the Word for any confusion I have on any matter. I've read all the other scriptures people tout as proof that God hates Christmas trees and that to have one you are worshiping an idol. I don't particularly feel that way.

But for those of you confused by the issues, for those who think they know the all the answers, for those who haven't decided but kind of lean toward getting rid of tree, for those who haven't decided but kind of lean toward keeping or getting a tree here is what Jeremiah says. I used the New King James Version but you can take a quick trip over to Biblegateway.com and use any translation you like.

Jeremiah 10:1-5
1 Hear the word which the LORD speaks to you, O house of Israel.
2 Thus says the LORD:
“ Do not learn the way of the Gentiles;
Do not be dismayed at the signs of heaven,
For the Gentiles are dismayed at them.
3 For the customs of the peoples are futile;
For one cuts a tree from the forest,
The work of the hands of the workman, with the ax.
4 They decorate it with silver and gold;
They fasten it with nails and hammers
So that it will not topple.
5 They are upright, like a palm tree,
And they cannot speak;
They must be carried,
Because they cannot go by themselves.
Do not be afraid of them,
For they cannot do evil,
Nor can they do any good.”

Jeremiah had seen the trees, too. To him it was just a silly tree, he said futile which mean pointless, with no power to do anything. Of course, maybe they didn't plug their's in...

So for those of you against trees, that's all right. Just stop quoting what you think is a prohibition. You can put up all your nativity scenes and let the world know what Jesus Christ means to you.

Of course, if you insist that your intrepretation of "Christmas tree sin" is right, you might want to consider another scripture, just to be totally right. Those little nativity scenes you put up instead of a tree... they are graven images. The Bible is pretty clear on those.

Personally, it is those stupid blowups of Frost the Snowman with the lightbulb inside that I find a sin.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Uneventful Weekend

The weekend is over and was rather uneventful. I am so glad I was able to go to church tonight. I didn't get to go this morning as I intended. I kept Sarah last night and she kept me up most of the night. Every hour she woke up crying and I had to get up and settle her down. I put her to bed with me and she rolled all over the bed when she slept! She's busy even in her sleep! So, by 9 a.m. I was exhausted and could barely sit up. I got up and thought about church but I fed Sarah and put her down on the floor to play and I went to sleep on the couch with her in front of me. She eventually came and climbed on top of me and went to sleep, too.

But I did go tonight. I was so good to be back. I was surprised when my assistant pastor read an email he got last week. When he started it I thought, I've read that then I realized, it was my blog post about Black Friday and called A House of Worship! I chuckled but kept quiet. At the end he told everyone who wrote it. It was very nice to hear someone appreciate something you wrote.

After church, my son was telling me that he and the sound guy were listening and David told the sound guy, "Someone has too much time on their hands." At the end, when they told who wrote it, David said, "Oh." I cracked up when I heard it. It was so like David to speak first and ask questions later.

I rained all day today,hard and I just knew that it was going to turn cold. It has! It was 55 this today and rather warm when we got to church at 6 p.m.. Right now, it is 36! I will hate having to go in to work in this cold!

Well, I'm signing off for now. Hope you all stay very warm and cozy and have a great week.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Glory Be!

I got my car back on Thursday with the transmission fixed. I can now go back to church! I have not been in a month and I miss it.

So, with that said, I'm off to bed.