In the Sand or in the Hand

Sometimes I choose to put my head in the sand. Actually, I choose to do that often and about many issues and subjects. Sometimes I do that to survive. I scan my horizon and see so many things I could be concerned about. Other people seem concerned but I choose not to be. Consider global warming. Or the next president of the US. Maybe I even do that over the war in Iraq. There was a time in my life I would be highly opinionated about all three of those subjects. Today, I take a different approach. Why? Because I've learned that my opinions on issues such as those do not change those things one iota. Let's take global warming. I remember well when one wasn't so concerned about the environment. I don't mean that was the correct approach but we didn't get so bent out of shape about our place in preserving God's creation. It was there and I think we had a sense that God would take care of it with us or without us. It is very clear to me that we shouldn't throw things out the car window as we did when I was a child. (I also remember taking the tractor and trailer to the back woods with the trailer piled full of garbage. It was thrown on what we called our dump. You city dwellers don't remember not having a garbage man. We burned what we could and piled the rest in a place unseen. That pile is still on my father's property.) We need to care for our world better than that now that we can. I also believe we shouldn't contaminate the earth or air with toxins. But I have come to believe with all my heart that God has built into our world a restorative power. It is first of all His, He made it and He sustains it, why should I fret and worry? I'll do what I can to be a responsible steward but I'm not getting myself involved in a theory like global warming regardless of what the scientists say. Next subject. Will it be Obama or Hillary or someone else? In the past I've gotten all wrapped up in the hype. I choose not to at this stage of the game. I have an opinion (hoping it is neither) but I'm trusting God will put into office the person of His choosing. I feel I can do much more by praying for His will in the matter than by arguing or fretting or prophecying bad news if one or the other wins. The war in Iraq. First of all let me say that I have more faith in President Bush than most of the people I hear on the news. I believe his confession that he listens to the advice of God. Yes, I think he gets caught up in the power that money can buy but I cannot for the life of me believe that he is an idiot. I choose to believe that he knows a whole bunch more than I do and more than the reporters know. I also believe that as a powerful nation we have been given the responsibilty to expel evil both at home and around the world. Recently we visited the Holocaust Museum in DC. The visit confirmed in my heart that we cannot let violent rulers have their way in this world. So, without a lot of true knowledge about the war, (because I don't think we can believe most of those reporting it) I must trust the people in our government that are responsible for making the decisions. Again, my biggest contribution is my prayers that God will have His way in Iraq as well as in the US and around the world. I believe my prayers (your prayers) release God's power in Iraq. Pray for wisdom for our leaders. So instead of sticking our heads in the sand, perhaps it is a better thought to stick our concerns in the Hand.

Memorial Day 2007

In the '50s and '60s my grandparents would work through Memorial Day and didn't seem to feel they were being cheated in anyway for not observing the holiday. As a child I thought they were missing out as we went off to the lake with our boat to welcome the first weekend of the summer swim season. Guess who didn't do anything to mark the holiday yesterday? Actually, I was busy most of the three days of the weekend but we didn't have any Memorial Day plans. I accompanied my daughter on a grocery shopping trip to Meijers yesterday morning. When I returned, my husband grilled a couple of burgers and we shared our Memorial Day cook out with each other at the kitchen table. Nothing special, nothing big, BUT, very relaxing and restful. I didn't feel like we were missing out on a thing that we didn't have a big cookout planned or that we weren't going anywhere for the day. I suppose one would say we are getting old. If getting old includes being content, bring it on.
On Sunday evening, my husband and I drove to the local cemetery and took a walk around. I grew up in this community and because it was small, I knew most of the people whose bodies are laid to rest there. There are some that were from before my time but I am always surprised that I can put faces with most of the names on those stones. It is a walk back in time and somehow I think a good practice to review history as I recall each one and how families are tied together, etc. I noticed that my 87 year old father had been there prior to our visit and planted some geraniums on his parent's and my mother's graves. He never misses a year. I admire him for that. Even though he is remarried, he has not forgotten my mother, his first wife. I noticed that my mother's parent's graves had no flowers so I determined to get back to the cemetery some time over the weekend to get something on the grave so that other visitors would know by the sight of their grave that they were loved, appreciated and remembered.
So yesterday afternoon when the rain stopped and the sun broke out, we called our daughter and asked if she and the kids wanted to meet us there. Our daughter, feeling the importance of showing her children respect for the ancestors who have gone before, met us there. After we planted something on their great grandparent's graves, we took a walk with our grandaughers. It was so interesting to see the decorations on the graves. It gave new meaning to the old name of the holiday which was "Decoration Day". There were some graves elaborately adorned. Others were marked with a small single blooming plant. Some of those marked with a single plant were very old graves. It warmed my heart that the family had not forgotten those people. Silk flower pieces were the choice of many. One need not worry about watering those.
One grave marker was extremely elaborate. It was very wide and covered several grace sites. The marker was for only two people so it was obvious the wife had purchased more than two graves in order to have room for the huge grave stone. On either side of the stone are two very large urns each filled with a cazillion geranuims. Beautiful? Yes. Overdone? Depends on one's opinion. My eleven year old grandaughter looked at the grave, pointed to it and said, "What does it matter, they are dead, they don't know it anyway!". I had to smile. Even at eleven, her system of values is keen enough that she could draw a line and say that was too much.. She is right. There is a difference between honoring a departed loved one or building a shrine. Many years ago, my eldest daughter and I visited a beautiful Spanish Catholic church in southern Arizona. I have been there several times since and it is one of my favorite places. On one of my visits, a funeral was in progress and the church was closed to the public. I listened to the angelic singing coming through the short arch shaped wooden door. Later I watched as they put the pine box on the back of a pickup truck, along with flowers in pop bottles vases wrapped in aluminum foil. I visited the cemetery on my way back to the main highway. The decorations were common items and colorful. There were trinkets of every kind; flags, silk flowers, pictures, angel replicas, dolls, teddy bears, crosses and many pop bottle vases with a flower bud. It reminded me of a hospital experience I had when one of my children was in the children's unit. A gypsy family had a very sick child in one of the cribs. The crib was lavished with every imaginable trinket. My guess is that those items were supposed to make the child well or at least bring good luck. It made me very sad that they were relying on those things. I feel somewhat the same way when I see some of the grave sites at our own cemetery. It is sobering when those very decorated graves are those of Christian family members. It makes me wonder, what is their motive? I'm with my grandaughter on this one. It is most important and appropriate to honor those who have gone before us. On the other hand, to lavish a gravesite with elaborate flowers and enumerable trinkets, seems to me to be inappropriate. As Sydney said, "They are dead. They don't know. What's the point?" We don't communicate with the dead. Those departed souls are with Jesus and no amount of flowers and trinkets will bring them back to earth nor would they want to come back. Let's let them go in dignity and peace. Honor them with a flower? Yes. Build a shrine for them? No. To do so smells pagan to me.

Letting Them Fly Free

Patriarchal system
I am of European descent. Not many generations ago, the European patriarchal system was the system by which most families functioned. In those days it was customary that the man was not only the head of the family but also the controller of the family. Many families had loving and caring fathers but there were also many that were cruel and abusive, controlling their wives and children for their own gain. I am thankful that both of my grandfathers were for the most part loving and caring. Yes, they were influenced by the thought of their day but certainly not controllers. My great grandfathers on my father’s side are the only ones I know much about. My mother’s grandparents died young so I know little about them. The great grandfathers I knew about were also gentle and loving men, at least by the time I came around. One wonders what kind of husbands and fathers they were but there is no way to unlock those secrets today. My father is a gentle and caring man. He has had two wives; my mother and my stepmother and has treated both of them with the highest of respect. I don’t recall their being any hard and fast rules of control in our home with my dad and my mother. God’s rules were upheld, but not forced. Fortunately, I found a husband that is willing to be the head of our family but is not controlling in any way. I don’t think I would have done well with a controlling husband. I know some women who are of my generation who have husbands with my ancestry. Some of those men aren’t happy unless they have the wife and/or their children under control. I have observed that the control is often things of little importance. One example is that many wives in our area who are of my generation may not drive north of Route #30. (Approximately twenty miles north) The first time I heard that limitation, I was shocked. My father taught me to drive all over the United States. This was a ludicrous thought to me. Is the concern that the wife isn’t safe north of Route #30 or is it because she may not be home enough or perhaps she may find things north of #30 that wouldn’t be good for her or the family? I also know of husbands who control what their wives eat and what they wear. Do they not know their wives have brains? I suppose one hears a bit of rebellion in me. I don’t think it is rebellion because I have freedom in my relationship but I can predict that if I had been in a relationship with such a man, father or husband, I would have rebelled. I thank God for those graces in my life. What I have found over the course of my life is that those husbands and sometimes both fathers and mothers try so hard to control the family end life with devastating results. Control leads to rebellion. Wives resent their husbands, children resent parents and they live unhappily ever after. One rule we always lived by while our children were growing up was to hold them in our hands with space between our fingers. We wanted them to know they were safe with us but we gave them space to be discovering whom God had made them to be. I truly believe that is the way God would have it because it doesn’t take any trust in God to exercise control. Control trusts self and one’s own power. It takes trust when we open our hands and ask God to do what we can’t do for our spouses and our children. I think those are good rules by which to live in all relationships. During her teen years our daughter hung a poster in her bedroom that said, "If you really want something, let it fly free. If it returns to you, you will know it really belongs to you." Letting "it" fly free is the challenge. Help us in all our relationships, God.

Fur Balls Again Today

When our oldest children were about 7-9-11 we decided to get some chickens to raise to put in our freezer to enjoy those traditional Sunday dinners. We fixed a pen behind our barn turned garage. We lived in town across the street from the bank. There were no ordinances prohibiting animals in town then. I don't know about now as we long ago moved out of town into the country. Our children enjoyed the new chicks as much as I did when I was a child until the pressure of responsibility was upon them. One of our daughters was in charge of watering them. Being living things, chicks need much water, especially when it is warm weather. One day our daughter who was seven at the time forgot to water the chicks. We had several die. It was a sad moment. When we talked with our little girl about the experience and reminded her of her responsibility, she vigorously replied, "I HATE responsibility". It was one of those moments when a parent wants to laugh hysterically but knows to reject the tendancy and hold things together. I thought to myself, "Sometimes I hate responsibility, too." A few days into our chicken venture while feeding the chicks and moving backwards, I accidently stepped on one. What I felt was horrible but what I heard was worse. It was a premature cluck that ended abruptly and it was all over for that little chick.
Two springs ago, Isaiah and I got four bantam chicks. Bantam chickens are small birds with beautiful feathers of varying colors. I am intrigued by them. The beauty of God's creation is so evident in them. We had beautiful birds. One was a furry white bird with fluffy feet. Another was a black bird with irridesent green painted on her black feathers.One looked like a pheasant and one a quail. Isaiah named each one. One of them was "Speedy" because she was hard to catch. Both of us grew very close to those six week old little birds. One morning when I got up I gazed out the sunroom window to see the chicks. I didn't see any activity but thought I saw a pile of feathers. I ran to the bedroom to get a pair of binoculars to see more clearly. I didn't like what I saw so when my husband got up I explained my concern to him. He is the man of the family so to him falls these kinds of uglies. After he got ready for his day, he walked out to the pen. He didn't come back right away so my anxiety raised. I finally went outdoors to ask what he had found. His reply was, "they are all gone". Obviously an animal had gotten into our fence and eaten all of them leaving a fluff of feathers in the corner of the pen. I was crushed and knew it was not going to be a pleasant task to tell our nine year old grandson his pets had been eaten. Isaiah and I shed tears together that day. We both decided we were finished with chickens, we simply couldn't go through that again. Grandpa had another idea. He said we had to get more chickens to get over our loss. He finally convinced us and we went on a late spring search for more baby chicks. They were hard to find but we eventually found some in a country hatchery about twenty miles from home. They would sell us no less than six. Isaiah selected each one. While they grew to be beautiful in their own right, they never quite met the standard set by our first batch. We enforced our fencing with narrow gauged wire and were successful in keeping them safe for two summers and one winter. When the second fall came around, both Isaiah and I were finally really finished with chickens. We gave them to a farmer who accepted them with joy so it made three of us happy. Even though I don't care to try it again, I have a hard time not longing to go to the hatchery and pick a new batch. Many of life's lessons are reinforced through experiences with nature. I will always remember with fondness, the sweet little yellow balls of fur that have given me such joy.

Spring and Baby Chicks

It's that time of year again. Farm stores advertise baby chicks and ducks and my heart longs to do it one more time. However, that one more time was about two years ago when we got about six bantam chickens. My grandson and I enjoyed caring for them and watching them develop from palm size to adult size. After caring for them two summers and a winter, we decided to give up farming.
My first remembrances of spring chicks were seeing a whole coop of them, a couple hundred, at my grandparents farm. When I was big enough to accompany my grandfather to the hatchery, he would take me along. The hatchery was owned by Al Melchert and his wife, Helen. In our small town, we usually knew the background of the people around but I don't recall knowing much about them. Grandpa and I piled covered cardboard boxes with airholes into the car and drove those little chicks the mile and a half home. There was such joy in holding those small yellow fur balls. Even their smell was delightful, at least for the first couple of days. That soon changed however. One of the things Grandpa fed the chickens was buttermilk. It came in a fifty gallon wooden barrel with a wooden lid. The buttermilk was in the form of a grey paste. As neighborhood kids, (our house was the next house down the road from my grandparents) it was our habit to sneak into the chicken coop and poke our finger into the paste and eat it. We would get caught if we didn't replace the top securely. Nice midmorning snack then but now I could vomit just to think of it. The chickens grew and when they had gotten to be fat adults, I had to help gather the eggs. Grandpa taught me to reach under the warm belly of a hen and take away her egg. I felt a bit guilty when I thought of the hen but I got over it. Worse than stealing eggs was the happenings of Saturdays. It was a family (cultural) custom to have a big Sunday noon meal after returning from church. We called it Sunday dinner. Grandpa had a wooden handled wire with an end that had a hook bent into it. He would survey his choice of hens and finding the fattest, he grabbed the foot of the poor thing and that was close to her end. Out side and with her head on a stump, Grandpa did the dastardly thing. Off went her head with one swipe of his small axe. He then flung the headless body into the grass where it jerked and bleed until all life had ebbed away. After that the body was dipped in boiling water and the feathers were plucked, the innards removed and she was ready for roasting. In the world we live today, we rarely see what has to happen to the animal before it is placed on the table for consumption. It all seems so brutal to me now. Then it was a way of life and I must admit that I loved Grandma's roasted chicken. Twas the best. More about chicks and chickens tomorrow..

The First Boy in My Life

Memories. They rush in like a flood when I think of my childhood and my next door neighbor, John. He was the youngest of his family and I was the eldest in mine so our family positions were so different. John had two adult brothers and I had a three year old brother and a new sister. John's mom was on the tail end of her mothering career and my mom was at the beginning of her career. I am amazed when I think of the patience John's mother had for my daily visits. My first memories are of going to his house each day after school to watch "Howdy Doody", "Mickey Mouse Club" and Garfield Goose. The reason for my going to his house was that we didn't have a television and they did. The year was about 1950 and television was a new medium back then. I remember sitting on the floor in the small living room of our neighbors home soaking in those kid programs already thinking of coming back the next day for more of the M-i-c-k-e-y M-o-u-s-e song and of Frazier Thomas, the prime minister of the United States who served his King, Garfield Goose. Actually, Garfield never said a word, he clacked his beak and Frazier would interpret for him. Howdy Doody was a puppet that was activated by Big Bob Smith. Big Bob would open the show by greeting the viewers with a "Ho Ho Howdy Doody!". School children sold many television sets by sharing their show talk with fellow classmates. I think my friendship with John was cemented by sitting at his side watching those historic shows. One activity led to another as we explored ditches, built a tree house, and skipped stones on the river. On rainy days we worked in the basement of his house with his jigsaw and cut out patterns of horses, birds, and other things, which were then painted. When we wanted to prove our bravery, we went into the haymow of the barn on his place and jumped out the two story door. We had to make sure my mom wasn't watching though because the door was on the side of the barn she could see from our house and she would have stopped that dangerous fun. John introduced me to the interests of a boy. He was a good boy, not rough and tumble, but a genteel one. We remained friends inspite of others who would have torn us apart by scorn and tease. John invited me to his church's VBS and it was a highlight for me each summer. I loved the crafts we made and thoroughly enjoyed the refreshments each day. I think it was the first time I had Kool-Aid. I don't remember the Bible stories but I know they are imbedded in my mind. When we reached the preteen years, my dad decided it would be nice to invite John to go on vacation with us to a cabin on Silver Lake in Traverse City, Michigan. John's dad, a dear man, but one who saw teaching a boy work ethics as important, thought John should stay home and hoe the corn rows. Dad somehow convinced Sam to let the boy go for a nice time of rest and relaxation. We had a wonderful time those few days. My most vivid memory happened as we accompanied my dad into the town of Traverse City. Unknown to us the Cherry Festival was in full swing. Dad went to the hardware store for something and let the two of us explore the streets of the city. Suddenly two people came up and grabbed an arm of each of us. The question asked was, "Did you eat your cherry pie yet?" Being totally in the dark, we gulped and admitted our guilt. No, we hadn't had cherry pie yet, whatever that meant. We were escorted to a kangaroo court in the city square and pronounced "guilty". We had to serve a sentence of ten minutes in stocks. There were fears going through my head as I was bent over with my head and arms immovable. I worried that my dad may not be able to find us and worse yet, that he would be angry with us for disappearing. When we were finally released from the stocks and from our embarrassment, we were given small cherry pies to eat so that we would now be redeemed. I needn't have worried about my dad. We eventually found each other and listened to his deep chuckle as we explained our experience.
In our teen years we always knew what was going on with each other. One night a friend and I were riding with John and looking at a condemned house. The car died there and we had to walk to my home to get my dad to help. It was over a mile and it was night. I recall my dad, with tongue in cheek, giving John a very hard time about that night. If my dad had any worries about John's gentlemanly character, he need not have. In all the years of our friendship, John always treated me with respect and care. Not once was there even a suggestion of anything that wouldn't have been approved by my parents, his parents or by God Himself. John graduated a year ahead of me, went off to college and our paths seperated. He had a family, endured the breakup of a marriage, remarried an old sweetheart and I believe he is now very happy. At a recent reunion, we gave each other a warm hug. He asked me, "Why didn't you marry me?" I answered, "You didn't ask me." We laughed deeply knowing that we don't have to be married to love each other and enjoy the memories of our childhood. Thanks John for the memories. My life is richer for having you as my neighbor and friend.

More Comfortable Days Ahead

The beginning of a new work week. The sun is shining in all its glory. Temperatures are supposed to rise again after a very crisp and cool weekend. I wore capris and sandals to church yesterday morning but when we went for the evening service I was back into warm slacks and socks and shoes. Brrrrrrr. Somehow I don't remember May being so fickle but this one has certainly been. I look forward to warmer and more comfortable days.
I have the same longing in my heart regarding other matters. Praise God the tests my daughter had last week came back negative. At least three out of four of them did. The fourth one showed a slight abnormality with her heart so she had an echocardiogram on Friday. The cardiologist that read the report saw no problem with her heart but said she has some fluid in her lungs. The diruritic she was given has resulted in the loss of some of the water weight but her breathing has not improved as much as I'd like to see. She is to go back to the doctor this afternoon so perhaps we will know something more today. I look forward to better health and more comfort for her.
Alex, our thirteen year old grandaughter, fell on her field trip to Indianapolis and broke her ankle. That little mishap spoiled the long awatied field trip for Alex as she spent the biggest portion of her day in the emergency room of a hospital. At thirteen, Alex is a big help to her mother, especially right now when mom isn't feeling well. Now they both occupy a chair or sofa in the living room waiting for healing and resoration.
Jesus is our great physician. I implore Him for his healing and grace in the life of our daughter and family. I'd appreciate you joining me.

My Humble Opinion

Perhaps it is that I'm considering retirement but I see everything through dark glasses here at school lately. Behavioral problems up, academic performance down. Trying our darnest and getting no where. Only 16 out of 48 juniors repeating the state graduation equivilancy exam passed this spring. What is wrong with our school? This is supposed to be one of the good ones. This semester the big push has been to use graphic organizers. While I realize they can be used as good tools in education, graphic organizers are not going to solve our academic problems. It goes so much deeper than that. Way too large a percentage of our kids don't care a fig if they pass or not. They see education as a farce. I think values are not taught in the home as they once were. In my parent's home, education was important and if you got disciplined at school you got double at home. If you got bad grades, there were consequences that were upheld over the long haul. Ken and I took the same approach. Fortunately, our kids are doing the same with their kids. But today, many parents fight the school over any effort toward disciplining their children. I am frightened about the future of education. Yesterday, the sophomores were taking a core 40 test, another test meant to measure how we are doing. Some teachers challenged the kids by offering exam exemption in their unrelated classes if the students performed at least an 80% on the test. In actuality, no grade is normally given, the test is simply another measuring tool. However, so many kids blow off tests like that so some wise teachers offered a reward. Good for them. I hope it made a difference. I was proctoring that test. In the large lecture hall where I was proctoring, a boy refused to take his CD player's headphones out of his ears. I politely asked that he give me the player until after the test. His response was, "Away! Go away. I'm fine". I calmly changed the words, asked again and received the same response. I walked to the other proctor and whispered the situation to her. She approached the boy and made an attempt to get him to comply. He responded the same to her as he had to me. Then she gave him the choice of surrendering the player or going to the office. He chose to go to the office. In checking his record, I found he had 20 discipline referrals to the office this school year, one of those on the first day of school. Why do we put up with this kind of thing?
Our academic and behavior challenges are not simply the school's challenges. Our challenges can be placed in the lap of every mom and dad in every home. The question is, how do we get moms and dads to recognize their responsibility in placing values in their children that would cause them to behave well and try their best to learn what is being taught to them? Instead of being concerned about their child's "rights", parents need to focus on their child's "responsiblities". My humble opinion.

"Lay it All on Me" Jesus

Stress is all around us. Life seems to be stress in a nutshell. I used to respond to that stress with sleepless nights, reasoning to figure it all out, worry that things wouldn't turn out as I hoped. Yada yada yada. I've been feeling that stressful feeling the last week or so. Many things are happening that are beyond my control. People I love get sick. People I love act in unkind and unpleasant ways that I wish I could change. Some people in my work place have no business working with children at all, they treat kids in such unproductive ways. All the little irritants mount up and the stress level rises. When the stress level is raised, the irritants don't have to be much to irritate even more. Even though my personality traits have not changed I have learned to deal with my stress in healthier ways than I once did. Joyce Meyer has a saying to which I can put my amen. She says, "I'm not where I want to be but thank God, I'm not where I used to be". Jesus tells me to lay my burden on Him for He will care for me. Ah, yes, those are freeing words, are they not? So this morning, Jesus, I lay before you my burden for my daughter who isn't feeling well. Give us contentment and faith while we wait for test results. Heal and strengthen my friend that struggles phsyically presently. Bless one of those whom I love who has such a difficult time with relationships. Bring that one help this day. Be with that staff person that seems to find joy in looking for things which can get students in trouble. Meet his need of salvation. Bless with comfort the Perzee family that needs relief in their tremendous grief. Lord, I refuse to try to reason all these situations out to line up with my will. I just want your will for each of the people for whom I am concerned. Then your name will be lifted high above the earth. Father God, lighten my load this day in the name of your Son, Jesus.

Grief Beyond Understanding

Sometimes in the course of history, especially history we live and make, we lift our hearts to God with a cringe and dare to breathe the question, "why?" Our community experienced one of those days yesterday. About a year ago, one of the recent graduates of the high school where I work, was killed on the ski slopes in Colorado. She was a red haired beauty, tall and athletic. She was working her dream job at a ski resort. Her parents grieve the loss of their youngest daughter. Such losses are beyond the expression of mere words. How do parents cope with that sort of thing? It seems the hemorraging wound is barely scarred over yet and now there is another huge, gaping battle wound. Yesterday morning, a young adult son, age 26, of the same family was killed on a motorcycle inside the city limits of our small town. A car came out of a side road directly in front of him. The driver of the car must not have seen him coming. Oh, the agony of such a thing. How do these parents even endure the news of such tragedy. I can't imagine being the message bearer. Oh, God, send mercy to these dear parents and surviving brother and sister.
John and Janet are Christians. They believe that God is sovereign and though they are surely in a despairing condition, pray that God will heap tons of comfort on them today and in the days ahead. Also pray that all family members will turn toward the Comforter rather than away from Him

Mother's Day 2007
Mother's Day is always a bitter sweet day for me. I find thanking a mother or mother-in-law or step mother much easier than accepting thanks myself. I think back to my mothering and know I made a million mistakes. I yelled when I should have hugged, I spanked when I should have kissed, I accused when I should have listened. I did it all and if you're a mom, you probably did, too. We are all human and can be grateful that it is the nature of humans to remember the good and forget the bad. My kids have forgotten when I wasn't the mom I should have been or else they choose to not talk about it. I feel so blessed to have children who have grown into mature and sincere adults. Many of them have families of their own now and run into the same snags that challenge parents of all generations. I watch my kids deal with their kids and smile. Things don't change much. True, spanking has had a bad rap for awhile, but for the most part, parent-child relationships are about the same. My precious and precocious little grandson, age six, got taken out of church yesterday for misbehavior and his daddy spanked him. That is a rarity. That little boy is the apple of his daddy's eye but when Daddy has had enough, Daddy has had enough. There were some chuckles about that experience around the table yesterday and that sparked a few stories from our children as they remembered the same thing happening to them. There is a fine line in discipline, isn't there? If judged by today's cultural standard, I was hard lined. If I had to do it all over again, I would probably change some things. The point is we only get once to parent a child. When they are grown, it is all over and we don't get another opportunity. I remember while actively parenting praying that God would bless what I was doing right and negate that which I was doing wrong. When I look at our children and the lives they live, I am thankful that God has blessed that prayer. My children aren't what they are because of me but because of God's grace in their lives. Yes, God used me in that process but my children were first of all God's children and He takes His parenting seriously. We often think God is using excess discipline, too, don't we? On the other hand, we wonder why He is so lenient in other situations? Good thing He is God and not subject to our judgement. He is my judge and I thank Him for His forgiveness for my mothering that didn't meet His standard. Fortunately, He did answer that prayer I prayed so many times. Yesterday was a sweet day of family celebration. What a joy to see happy children, especially when they are the adult kind. God is faithful.

Older Than Dirt

I just took a test and scored in the highest percentile. You'd think I'd get some kind of good reward, like an A or Excellent or something like that. Nope, my reward is that I can consider myself older than dirt. You may have taken a test similar to this one. It tests one's ability to remember trivia from days long gone. One of the questions is what candy was the most popular in the 40s and 50s. No challenge there. I remember those wax coke bottles of sweet syrup very well. I thought I was in heaven when my mother would let me buy them. There was something about her hesitation that told me they weren't all that healthy. I was in Marie Oosting's store on the west side of main street in our town gazing into the candy display. Marie was an interesting lady. She wore a lot of makeup. I remember being a bit afraid of her, but she kept the best candy counter in town. There was every imaginable kind of candy. The price of each was a penney or two. Candy bars were the most expensive. We had to give up a nickel for those. The great thing about miniature wax coke bottles was that you had two thrills. The first was slurping the liquid candy from the bottle and the second was chewing the wax like it was gum. It was flavored but it certainly wasn't gum. After chewing it a short time, it fell apart and one ended up with a mouth full of small chunks. Yuk Another of my favorites was rock candy. I'm not sure why. It was probably the interesting look of the stuff. It truly looked like rock; translucent rock. The taste was that of sugar, nothing added.. Candy cigarettes were something I sometimes bought. I loved the taste but there was something about the fact that the real thing was forbidden fruit in my family (thankfully) so there was a bit of rebellion in that choice of candy.

Marie's husband seemed a great deal older than she. I am not sure that was the case but through my ten year old eyes that was the way I saw it. He was a shoe repairman. He had his little shop set up in the dark and dingy basement of the store. Our visits to Marie's wasn't frequent but my dad always went to Herman for his shoe repairs. Whenever the soles of his shoes looked like those of President Truman's, Dad would head to Herman's to have new ones put on. I can smell the odor of that shop when I recall the memory of walking down the squeaky stairway. Herman, standing in his black bibbed apron, would be using some black glue on some soles or some black paint on a heel. The big peddle style sewing machine went into action if a zipper needed repair. Oh yes, he fixed zippers as well.
Herman died years before Marie and she kept the store operating. Marie's store started as a general store but changed over time. Eventually, she focused on antiques and developed a trade for visitors. Her candy counter remained an attraction for many years. After Marie couldn't care for the store, her daughter ran it for awhile. Eventually, Evelyn closed the store. Today, a florist occupies the space. It is old and quaint, such a perfect setting for flowers and the other beautiful things set out to tempt me to take home. I guess I could say that things have improved. The odor of glue and paint has been replaced with the wonderful aroma of fresh flowers and
potpourri.
Yep, when I read this, I'm convinced, I am older than dirt. You haven't lived though, until you've had miniature wax coke bottles. Find them if you can and give it a try.
FYI It turned out that Marie's grandaughter married my youngest brother so now it's "all in the family".

All Moms Receive a Place of Honor

It's a beautiful sunny Friday and payday. Does it get better than this? I just received a call from our youngest daughter that she and her husband will come for Mother's Day. So far, that makes our number about seventeen for Sunday dinner. The challenge of a hostess is decide on a menu. That is difficult for me to do until the last minute. For my step mother, my last minute ways are concerning. She asked what she may bring some days ago and I haven't gotten back to her yet. I know she is waiting and probably rather impatiently. She is one of the world's greatest cooks and hostesses so she eagerly offers her services which I appreciate. We know we can always count on her for pickled beets which some of the family love and others don't touch. Those that love them have a standing request for them to be included in the meal plan. Because it is such nice weather, a cook out seems appropriate. Last Sunday our son cooked chicken on the grill. It was especially good. His wife had boiled it in lemon juice and water until it was just white on the outside. Then John put it on the grill and rubbed it with the juices as it cooked. The chicken was so tender it melted in our mouths. It also had a lovely lemony flavor. So, I think it is going to be chicken breast on the grill. I also have some Polish sausage in the freezer that we will cook up along with some hotdogs. My husband knows that today it is his job to make the potato salad. Our potato salad is known by many to be very good. I learned to make it from my mother and have since taught several of our children and my husband to make the same recipe. Actually, the amounts are not written any where. Our recipe is in our heads and in our habits. My mother used to say that the trick to potato salad was to mix it while the ingredients were still warm. I think she had a point there. The flavors seem to blend together in a way that they don't if all the ingredients are cold.
Now I have the main entrees decided. I will ask Grandma to bring some fresh asparagus as that is the local vegetable in season now. She always cooks it just right. Fresh asparagus will also bring a smile to some of my out of town kids who will be in attendance. If I add a salad, get some KFC cole slaw, run to Cosco for one of their good desserts, the dinner will be successfully delicious. I will be busy but won't have put a ridiculous amount of work into as has been my habit in the past. I'm learning. One my married daughters said to me this week, "I'm a mother, too". Hmmm, I guess that meant she didn't want to cook because she is also a guest of honor. Well, with the meal nearly ready to put on the table, we can have a wonderful meal with a little work by a few because many hands make light work. All the moms present can enjoy their place of honor. Being a mom/dad is one of greatest blessings of life. May all the moms in my area of influence enjoy a beautiful Mother's Day as her children rise up and call her blessed.

Half the Joy is Anticipation

One of my dreams has been to take a vacation with my siblings. We had such good times on vacations as kids that I'd like to do it again. As young children under the care of our parents, we were vacationed every summer and every winter. Winter vacations were to Florida but summers, ahh, the summer. My dad made sure we had a great vacation and many times those vacations were in the form of a road trip. Most road trips were made to the west. My father loves the west and takes every opportunity to obey the command, "go west, young man, go west". The Montana town of Columbus is my father's birthplace. Born to a family of homesteaders, he spent his first three years out west running on the prairies with the rattle snakes and riding in horse and wagon on bumpy dirt paths. One is hard pressed to believe that is only a generation prior to my own. Even though his family lost their dream there with crop failures year after year, my dad continues to have a passion for that area of the country. The west has been beaconing me for some time but time and money hasn't come togetheryet. This year, I may be getting my dream come true. My brother, next in line but five years my junior, was here, along with his wife, to visit a few weeks ago and we began to dream together about visiting Yellowstone again and enjoying the exploration of the wonderful state of Colorado. I think its going to happen!
You know people talk of surprise parties or surprise gifts. I'm one who appreciates the value of anticipation. The trip out west will be twice the joy if I think about it the next two months and then experience it first hand in July than if someone said, "We are going out west so get in the car". So, the upshot is that I will take great joy in the planning and dreaming.

Beards and Black Dresses

We are so blessed to be within two hours of Amish country here in Indiana. It is my pleasure to visit there a couple of times a year. The area is so clean and attractive. The houses of pure white and the impecable yards give an aha to my soul. I love the area and I love the people. About twenty five years ago we met an Amish couple who were neighbors to mutual friends of ours. Harley and Liz were young then and had several young children. As I recall their eldest son was eight. We had a good time getting to know Harley. Liz was more shy and I believe at the time, she felt it was best to keep her distance from such worldly Englishers as we. Well, wordly, at least from her perspective. Harley is just a very happy and jolly fellow. He loves everyone he meets. He worked "out in the world" so had developed an easy way with those outside the Amish fold. He and my husband developed an appreciation for each other and began a relationship of tease. You know the kind, one man tries to outdo the other by throwing zingers and the best zinger wins. They had such fun together. As the years went by, I began to know Liz a bit and would be surprised when we visited that there was another baby in the making or a new one on her hip. By the time their family was complete, there were ten children.
When their oldest daughter was eleven, we took an exchange student and her parents from Belguim to Harley's and Liz's home for a noon meal. There were five of us and when we walked into the Amish home we were delighted to learn that Liz was having a quilting bee. We could see through a long hallway to the living room where a big frame was set up and there were several women with covered heads bending over the frame working on a quilt. Most of the ladies were sisters or sister in laws. We were told everyone was staying for dinner (noon meal). There were 21 on us seated around their gigantic kitchen table. The oldest daughter's job that day was to cook for us. We were shocked to find unending courses to a beautiful Amish meal. Fried leghorn chicken was piled high on a serving platter. That was complimented by potato salad, mashed potatoes, noodles, green beans, and homemade bread and shoofly pie. I'm sure I'm forgetting some of the dishes but it was an outstanding meal. I knew then that Mary would make someone a good wife one day.
That meal experience rather cemented our relationship. Since then, we don't go to Shipshewana without stopping at Harley's and Liz's. We had asked them for years to come to visit us but time passed by and it hadn't happened. Last fall, we arranged our mutual friends to take them to our home for Sunday dinner. They arrived early on that Sunday morning and went to church with us. That was an unexpected honor. When we were seated, I leaned over and asked if they had been in an English church before and they said they had been to weddings and funerals but not to a service. I was so pleased they chose to honor us with their presence that day. Outgoing and accepting Harley said he really liked the service. I don't recall Liz making any comments but I'm sure she felt a bit uncomfortable. They did meet many of our church friends that day who immediately received them warmly. Today, one of those friends, Cindy, came with me to visit the Shipsey area. Our initial goal was to shop at the flea market and the local shops but once that was over we both wanted to visit Harley and Liz. After we had visited with Harley a few minutes, Liz came into the room wearing a black Amish dress. She truly looked the part of mourning. I asked where she was going and she said they were going to a "viewing" of a 21 year old boy who was killed on his bicycle yesterday. My heart fell for them. Harley commented that it opened up their hurt all over again as they knew the grief the boy's parents would be going through. Harley and Liz lost their oldest son, Sammuel, in a car accident when he was nineteen years old in l992. Parents don't get over the loss of a child. I've often wondered what thoughts went through their minds when the modern form of transportation they reject was what took their precious son's life.
Cindy and I enjoyed getting the latest news on their children and grandchildren. One of their grandaughters, six years old, has been very ill with pneumonia and has had very high temperatures. She was doing some better today and they were thankful for that. They told the story with great concern. I assured them we would pray for their little one.
When it was time to leave, they invited us to come for a meal sometime this summer. I'm sure we will do that soon. It is good for both of us to get to know the other's heart. Christians of different brandnames, even one that seems so different from our own, struggle with many of the same issues. As we sat there today, a very cute English girl came into the home and was introduced to us as their son's fiance'. After she left, I broached the subject. Liz painfully told us that their son had left the Amish church and gone to a different Christian church. I commented that it was good that he was in a church and she said "I guess so, but we wish he had chosen to stay with what we believe". We told her we feel the same way about the way our children choose to worship. It always feels better when they follow the path we have laid out for them. We could identify with Liz's heart and respect her mother concern. The reason why our friendship with our Amish friends is so precious is because both of us are stretched.
PS I asked Liz's and Harley's daughter Miriam if I could take her picture and she was readily willing. I told her I didn't want to offend and if taking her picture caused her offense to please feel free to tell me. "Mom and Dad wouldn't like to have their picture taken, but they don't care if people take ours" she replied. So in front of her rig, she and her precious little girl posed willingly.
PPS On May 26th, my work mate and her Austrailian father-in-law and wife asked me to be their tour guide to Shipshewana. While there, we ended our tour with a quick visit to Harley and Liz. After reading this blog some people had asked if Harley and Liz would have to practice shunning the son that left the Amish faith. I didn't know, I just remembered Harley say, "we still love him" and that was good enough for me. On this past trip, I asked if shunning was still practiced and they both said it was. I asked, "then what about Alan?" They told me that because Alan had never joined the Amish church, they didn't have to shun him. I am so grateful. I wouldn't want them to have that pain.

To Bloom Again

A flicker of red flew past my sunroom window this morning. It went under the eaves and stayed. When I leaned down to look at what it was, there on the electric lead into the house sat a big fat cardinal. What a thrill the sight of him was for me. The unexpected brilliance of the cardinal's color never ceases to excite me. We get so many of those unexpected thrills in the spring. While we were in Michigan yesterday we enjoyed the beauty of many blooming trees and bushes. I wanted to take pictures of each one but we whizzed by them so quickly, there wasn't opportunity for that. During March we had a week of beautiful weather. The temperatures were in the seventies and low eighties as the early spring sun warmed the earth. That did pose a problem. Plants thought it was time to rise above the ground and begin their yearly growth. Two weeks later, the temperatures plunged and the wind blew. Temperatures fell to 18 degrees. The cold spell lasted much too long and many of the plants that had poked out of the ground got their heads frozen off. My daffodills had already begun to bloom. The wind blew them over in a limp defeated heap and the cold air froze off their bloom. Many of my tulips didn't even bother to bloom. The threat of frost is gone now and true spring is upon us but that cold spell left its mark. Lilacs which were profuse with bloom last year are but a shadow of that beauty this year. The blooms are very small and bear only a small resemblance to what a blooming lilac is supposed to look like. One isn't tempted to pick a bouquet because they aren't pretty in the least. While the lack of beautiful lilacs is disappointing, we know that there is always "next year" for which to hope.

Have there been cold spells in your life that have frozen off some buds in areas where you are supposed to bloom? Sometimes the things we experience do such frozen damage to us that we don't bloom as well as we'd like. God shows us in nature that He understands. He knows about spoiled plans, failed performances, broken relationships. Remember that God in His wisdom points us to the hope He offers. We can bloom again after a cold spell. There is always 'tomorrow' or 'next year'. The strength the lilac has to overcome this year's failure, will restore it next spring with renewed vigor. That same strength, the creative strength, is ours as well for each time we fail to bloom. It is God in us that gives us the strength to do anything worthwhile. His plans cannot be foiled. You know the old adage, 'bloom where you are planted'? I'd add to that, 'bloom again if you have once lost your buds to the cold experiences of life'.

Soak it Up

We drove to St. Joseph, Michigan to vist our son's family. John is a pastor in a church there and so it is a pleasure for us to go for a Sunday, listen to him preach, eat a delicious meal together, visit awhile and then head back home. John and Kim have five children. Their eldest is nearly sixteen and the youngest is four. While there today, John and Kim talked about how much they enjoy that little one. Kim noted that when a child is young, they are consistently happy. They don't get hung up on the things from which the older ones dangle. She was quick to point out that she enjoys her big kids as well but that there is a specialness in sharing life with a preschooler. Katie is the kind of preschooler that creeps up to one unannounced and suddenly is in your lap soaking up the love. Quietness is one of her personality traits. Once on our laps, she just looks up at us with a deep love that radiates from her crystal blue eyes. She doesn't ask for anything special. She doesn't have to be entertained and doesn't interupt our conversation. She is content just to be there.
During John's sermon this morning, he read from Mathew where Jesus says that unless we become as little children, we cannot enter the kingdom of God. I think I learned a bit about what He meant by the way Katie responds to the people she knows love her. Katie isn't shy about wanting to sponge up our love. She came to me several times today. She just sided up next to me and somehow with out too much effort, she was as close to me as she could get; right in my lap with my arms securely holding her. She trusted that Grandma would welcome her affection. She knew without a doubt, she would get mine. I truly loved having Katie seek my love today. God is a lot like a grandma/grandpa. He seeks our love every day. Our heavenly Father truly loves to have his children sidle up to him, crawl in His lap and let Him wrap His arms around us and allow Him to pour His love onto us. He is so honored to have us relax there awhile and soak up His love. He finds joy in recognizing the contentment in us as we rest in His embrace. Yes, we need to be like a little child in our relationship to God. A child has to trust his parent because if he doesn't, his needs aren't likely to be met. He or she doesn't have the resources to supply their own needs. A child (at least one in a healthy family) doesn't fret about whether there will be food on the table tomorrow or whether Daddy will have a job tomorrow or or or ....... A child simply trusts and knows that somehow Daddy or Mommy will see to it that their need is met. Hmmm, our heavenly Father can be trusted far more completely than human parents. He tells us He will meet our needs and He is trustworthy. He isn't going to turn us away or be too busy for us. Recently I heard a television minister say that as God's children we need to focus on His love for us. His point was that when we focus on trying to prove our love for Him, we find ourselves falling short. I couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly with that preacher. If I had to trust in my love for Jesus, I'd not have to even think I would have salvation. BUT, knowing God loves me with all His heart regardless of my faithfulness or unfaithfulness assures me of eternity with Him, my Savior. I praise Him for the forgiveness and reconciliation I have received through the blood He shed on the cross for me. And for you. So, I encourage each of us to crawl into His arms of grace and let Him care for us while we look into his loving eyes with devotion and gratitude. Soak it up!

In the Palm of His Hand

Hands intrique me. One can tell much about a person by the way their hands appear. Hands betray the heavy work one does or their lack of hygiene. Hands can reveal a hint into the type of work a person does. A bump on the middle finger of the right hand may suggest they push a pencil much of the time. Paint around the nails suggests one may be a painting contractor. Greasy hands belong to the rugged type who work on engines. Hands with fingernails bit down to the quick reveals a person that is high strung. I have seen men's and women's hands that are finely manicured. In the last ten years it isn't uncommon to see perfectly shaped and polished nails on women. Manicures are in vogue. I have seen men wear clear polish on their nails. This preoccupation with our fingernails can mean a couple of things. It can express a pride in one's appearance that may be healthy or not so healthy. It could mean people make their living using their hands so manicured hands are an important part of their presentations. Personally, I can't imagine working with long fake fingernails. For me, wearing them would inhibit my production. While I love the look of perfect nails, I can't make them work for my lifestyle. I know my manicure would be a wasted effort the first time I did a sink full of dishes. I try to keep my nails looking presentable in their natural state. It works for me most of the time.
This all may suggest that I observe people's hands and indeed I do. When I was young, it was a man's hands that would be attractive to me. My husbands hands are very precious to me. When I look at them I remember the effort he made with them to support me, the way that he cradled our children with them, the way he tickles the grandchildren before he swoops them up in his arms for a hug, the gentleness with which he has wiped tears from my eyes. With them he has shown his deep affection for me. The Bible tells us that God's hands are important for many things. The thing I hold most dear is written for us in Isaiah 49:16.
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. It doesn't say that he has engraved my name in his hands. It says He has engraved ME in his hands. All the support of my husband's hands doesn't hold a candle to the significance of being ENGRAVED IN GOD'S HANDS. What a comfort! He won't let me go, but more importantly, He can't let me go. I'm engraved in those hands. I'm there for good.

Morning in Place of Mourning

As long is I'm on the subject of mornings, I will pursue it a bit more. Mornings are the very best time of day for me. I love the stillness, the newness. Creation seems to be garnering its strength for a whole new day. The wind is non existent. The sun isn't yet full. Busy-ness hasn't yet begun. Anticipation hangs in the air. We are at the beginning of a continuim that will end with darkness and bedtime at the end of the day. As I drive into town early in the morning on my way to work, I relish the cleaness, neatness and freshness I see in the people I meet. Hair is combed neatly. Faces shine. Smiles and gentle "hellos" come easily. The scents of cologne, hair products, after shave, soap; it is all distinguishable. I love it. There are other scents that are also vivid in the morning that satisfy so much better in the morning than any other time of day. Coffee, donuts, bread, bacon and eggs. Can you smell them? As I thought about mornings and the specialness they are to me, I remembered that I had written a couple things about mornings in the past and wondered if they were retrievable. I found the following poem on "My Documents". I see that I wrote it in the fall and so it is probably more appropriate to put in this blog later, but I'm afraid I will forget and not retrieve it at all. So, I'm sorry to mix spring with fall but here it is:

Mornings

The beauty of morning, can I adequately extol?
What is it about its innocence that quiets my soul?
Every man, woman, and child a clean face presents
To receive new mercies with the new day’s events.

Seven birds stoically sitting on an electric line
Silhouetted against the morning sky
No alarm clock, but got up just fine
Don’t need man’s help to know how to fly.

Yellow with dryness from summer sun steady
Signaling the farmer that it is ready
Heavy ears of corn hang from motionless stalk
Waiting patiently for relief of harvest talk.

The trucking company still asleep
Ten trucks parked in a row makes up the fleet
Engines still cool from a weekend of rest
Not yet a creature stirring a request.

Downtown displays the American flag
On every electric pole we can brag
The still of the morning belies the nation’s state
As each flag hangs limp, the winds await.

Like all of creation, I love his new mercies each new day. BTW, today is National Day of Prayer. The last two lines of my poem give cause for pause as we consider the state of our nation. It is far from what God wants it to be. On this day we kneel before the Heavenly Father in humilty. Let us mourn the sins of our nations and implore Him for new mercies in the areas of government, media, churches, schools, and family. Perhaps in His grace He will allow us to experience a NEW MORNING for our nation. Oh God, have mercy.

New Every Morning

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

This morning, I came out of sleep into conciousness around 4:45 to 5:00. Darkness was beginning to lose its grip and through the ebbing darkness the world was becoming brighter. As I lay there in the very stillness of early morning, I heard through our open window a song being sung. What seemed like hundreds of birds were singing God's praises while the morning was still a promise and not yet a reality. I lay there for at least a half hour listening to the singing and pondering the verses in Lamentations. His compassion for us never fails and they are new each morning. Isn't it interesting that the birds have no problem believing what we seem to forget? The birds believe in the faithfulness of God who supplies all their needs. They prove it with their early morning song. The Bible tells us in
Matthew 6:26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

In that verse, God tells us that we are more valuable than the birds so it follows then that God will supply all our needs as well. Let's emulate the birds and make God's face smile by waking up with a song of praise on our tongue. Lessons learned from very small creatures.

Truth According to Whom?

Have you wondered where truth is in our world? It seems to be a very difficult thing to find. If you think what you hear on the news is truth, you may be deceived because days, months or years down the road, we learn that what we heard was totally untrue. I would venture to say that truth is more difficult to find now than it was fifty years ago. When I was young, I thought everything I heard was truth and most of it turned out to be true. As time goes by and I have become older, I realize that very little of what I'm told, read or hear is truth. Most everything we allow into our minds has been altered by someone's opinion. Following are a few subjects that we hear nearly opposite opinions on; health issues, exercise, diet, child rearing, political issues, the president, the church. Now one at a time.
Health Issues. I recently "heard" a Christian commentator report that there is proof that when sacharin came on the market, the sugar industry designed a perfect remedy to protect their market. They fed sacharin to rats in such an exagerated way that the rats developed cancer cells. If they could prove sacharin was dangerous to one's health, they would protect the income from their product. Makes me wonder about the credibility of all the "studies" we hear about.
Exercise One need only to open two magazines to discover the promotion of opposite opinion on exercise. Should it be cardio, should it be weight lifting, should it be running, walking, etc? Today, one of my friends stopped by and told me we shouldn't do cardio exercises any longer because it makes us hungry and then we eat more than we should.
Diet We should eat meat for protein. We shouldn't eat meat because it rots in our stomach and causes disease. We should eat carbs because that is where our energy comes from We shouldn't eat carbs because that causes us eat too many calories which causes obesity. We shouldn't have fat. We need some fat.
Child Rearing Spanking is out and time outs are in. We should ground kids from the priviledges they enjoy. In order to be all around educated grown ups we need to provide our children with all the necessities of life; Baby Eisteins, lessons of all kinds from dance to soccer to musical instruments, video games systems, I-pods, cell phones, computers, cars, etc.....So to grow up a good kid, one need only take away one of the necessities of life from them to bring about good behavior and conform to a parent's will.
Political Issues We should encourage smaller government to allow the individual the opportunity to use his/her opportunities and intelligence to succeed. We should encourage larger government to give those that don't have what everyone else has the opportunity to let the government supply their needs.
The President He is the worst ever. Got us into this war and can't get us out. He is the best ever. He has a plan and knows a bunch more than you and I. We must trust his good judgement.
The Church The church should be more involved with society and faith based organizations can help cure the societal ills. The church should mind its own business and tend only to people's souls. Let the government take care of the societal ills. Church and State should be seperate.
Are you as tired as I of all the rhetoric? The only place I know to go for absolute truth is the Word of God. Then we still find difference of opinion in the interpretation of that Word. Makes me realize that language, yes, even English, is limited in expressing truth in any form. We are in a broken world, aren't we?