Contentious Times and People

 

It was a great revelation for me today to see the blessing it is in my life being somewhat surrounded by contentious times and people. I do not know about anyone else, but for me, I would much rather learn the important lessons in life, while in the valley of the shadow of death, rather than on the mountain top, where I want to enjoy fully the beautiful blooming flowers in full array of colors so beautifully displayed in the warm shining sun with diverse textures and fluffs of clouds passing overhead.

Contentious times. They cause me to reflect on family and friends. To reflect on lessons learned, both theirs and mine. To reflect on wisdom, knowledge and blessings previously received from GOD. In a nutshell, to inspire me to look deeper, which I seldom do unless prompted by a direct and prolonged onslaught of contention.  Off track here, but a friend once told a friend of his, “hell she’s shallow and happy, so why change her?”  I had to smile at that, he knows me so well, and knows how to rid me of unwanted interests as well. Kudos brother I love ya!

Contentious People. Simply the standard clichés always are symbolic of these. Misery loves it`s company. Misery hates to see anyone not as miserable.  Jealousy inflames contention, due to not seeking GOD for an individuals own talents and gifts. But I realized today, that these individuals also bring with them the power of sickness and disease with a level of exploitation.  To let their misery into my life, my realm, is also to allow entering into my life all manner of sickness and disease that is carried with it. For is that not how disease enters a healthy life?  I must guard against these as I would a literal physical evil, unless of course, I would choose to succumb to the misery, sickness and diseases which afflict the miserable. As Jesus stated, let the sick take care of the sick, they have each other to comfort and to care for; therefore abandon that ship if you are healthy and whole! Most often I find these are the people who are continually plagued by some misfortune or another and rather than seeking GOD and examining themselves as to why, they rather try to drag healthy souls into the chasm with them.  In a neighborhood this would resemble the “Stepford Syndrome” where all the wives are “happily” married with 3 children, all join the PTA, with 2 cars, and role model their lives one after the other on their block; completely lacking any individuality or independence from one another.  The movie, “The Help” is a great example of this sickness. AND, how un-Christ like! GOD created each one of us to be individuals, not monotone robots. Though HE does expect harmony, HE does not ever state that we are to be created after the image of our neighbor, or sister or mother.

Perhaps in their defense, I can see conformity as a way of eliminating jealousy and severing any bipartisan relations.

However for my situations experienced, this is a blanket disguise covering the deeper motive of power and control out of or beyond the realm that has been granted to any individual or group.

Far too often individuals are imprisoned for having vision and wanting to have wings to fly. Look at the lives of Hilary Swank and Taylor Swift, both of whose parents chose to take the road of loneliness and poverty for a season with the knowledge and understanding that their current locations would snip the wings and eventually the heart of these talented women by enforcing them to be what GOD never created them to be. By Hope and Faith, these parents chose to move them to where they could grow, bloom and fly after their GOD gifted talents. And life should be as such for every created human being on the face of this world today, and forevermore.

I toast those who don’t fit in when not of their GOD given talents or interests or abilities, but are fully conformed to GOD’s vision and creation of their lives.

And in closing, I want to say, that contentious times and contentious people ARE created by GOD for the purpose to inspire me to dig deeper and seek HIM.  Reading today in my Bible, we, as HIS believing children, are to dig deeper and seek HIM for as long as the trial of contention continues. It is HIS way of testing our faith, testing our commitment to HIM no matter what. Adult Peer Pressure! Let us as Christians remember Noah…everyone thought he was crazy building an Ark when the people had never seen rain, and Joseph who was the carefree youngest of 12 boys who saw that one day GOD would cause him to rule in majesty over all of his family, and Daniel who several times over remained unwaveringly faithful and obedient to GOD and gave no regard to the “whims of status quo” created by GOD’s enemies who surrounded Daniel in the Babylonian empire.

In closing, ALWAYS SEEK HIM – Read and Study Your BIBLE!

Pre-Election Campaigns

Today someone sent me a photo of Donald Trump supposedly imitating and mocking a handicapped person; which of course sent me into a rage. Not anger, rage. Rage that the freedom of the press can so malign any individual in the guise of “News”.

Besides the horrific rise in false advertising due to the internet and the ability to graphically alter any photo, any caption; it generated my thinking process to what is really of value in presenting ideas to secure voter’s favor? What are truly key issues that a country should address in bringing balance into a country so torn and disheveled due to following the dictates of the Guinness Records for “firsts”.

Is it discussing the issue of abortion? Or is it the variations of marriage? Or addressing what is marriage? Is it shamelessly looking the other way when presented with the absolute possibility of blindsiding your constituents if they follow a strategic command issued by you outside of the current situation? Or is it a popularity contest? Or just another judicial ‘quilting bee’?

Which brought me to thinking about marriage, and my parents. I am in full support of marriage, if it is something that is truly a blessing to both individuals. Individuals, yes!  A marriage is a blending together, a harmonious melding of two equally valuable and contributing strengths.  And I thought of my parents. They slept in the same double bed until the last 5 years of their marriage, my mom then 82 and my dad, 70 years of age. That, for me, indicated a lot of love, respect and admiration.  They both snored louder than any freight train.  Both talked in their sleep.  But their love and respect of each other overshadowed all annoyances, and they actually slept in the same double bed for 42 years.  That is a commitment to someone you know brings out the best in you, and you in them. But is this truly a concern of Government? Should our Government be interested in what constitutes “marriage”?  Really? Seriously?

My point?  What a horror to expect anyone to stay in a marriage because they have made a public vow when lives change; relationships can begin on devious, hidden and ulterior motives that are not realized until years later.  My parents were always very open and communicative with not only each other, but others as well; but as I have experienced in life, most people are not. Most people are not secure enough in themselves to be open, vulnerable and communicative. So why should the government enforce regulations binding persons into a relationship of hell.  Is that really a topic that should be of governmental decision?  Really?  Seriously?

And that brought me to abortion. There is no religion, there is no law, there is no entity which would ever allow me to stand in support of a woman not being able to terminate a pregnancy, if she so desires, when it is the result of incestuous relations or rape or anything outside of a mutual endorsement of awareness of creating a being from the two souls. I find it completely outside of my scope of endorsement to bring any form of honor to that which was completely the act of dishonor.  As my dad would have said, “if you plant a seed, beware, you will reap a harvest, and you owe society the provision of being able to properly care for that harvest”. Which brings me further on this subject to say, “in my opinion” I am fully in support ofGgovernment surgically sterilizing criminals and men and women who live on, or work the streets. But again, are these truly issues for the Government to focus on?  Really?  Seriously?

And back to square one. Are these issues that Government Rule should be concerned with?  Are these issues that should be vocalized on the campaign trails?  Really?  Seriously?

I know my vote will go to the best application of how taxes are taken equally from all, no matter the income earned. Of rewriting Social Security that in order to collect at 65, you must have first worked in this country for a minimum of 20 years, and contributed at least a base amount of your income to Social Security fund (which such a law would do away with immigrating relatives in order that they can collect Social Security of which they have never made a contribution towards). Of finding improvements for national health care (and allowing families to include their aged family members if they so wish to pay for it on their program), national security and defense, foolproof immigration vetting, care programs for veterans, seniors and the mentally and physically challenged.  Bringing manufacturing and productions back into our country, increasing the opportunities of small community self-employments.

All of the above is only the frosting on the cake of a very, very monumental decision of whom we now have to make a choice thereof; and I have mentioned just a few of the key items important in determining my personal voter’s checklist.

But discussion of marriage rights, abortion rights?  Really?  Seriously?  Or are we really shadowing the determination of the next Guinness Record?

True Rest, Peace Amidst Turmoil

Today reading Matthew 11:29 I was so excessively impressed with the revelation of the verse as provided by Henry Drummond that I had to put it into print here.

The rest Jesus Christ affords each believer is a rest from our mind itself; a rest from the thoughts of our own soul.

Picture a powerful waterfall thundering down into a fast flowing river below. You can see a scant and thin Aspen or Birch tree, some branches so bent from the winds of time they toy with the water below. Nestled securely and peacefully in a crook of a branch that is just out of reach of the vast spray projected from the force of the water at the base of the falls, is a Robin sitting on her nest; peacefully and contentedly performing her task of warming her eggs for hatching.

True rest always encompasses two elements: tranquility vs energy, silence vs turbulence, creation vs destruction, and fearlessness vs fearfulness.

This is the picture of perfect rest in Jesus Christ.  Do I reflect this in times of stress?

Miss Peeps

I like to take my daily life experiences and find Biblical correlation or revelation of kind.

This Spring I was filling the Bird feeders for the little tiny birds, Chickadees, Juncos, Finches, Canaries, and on the last fill, made a mental note when out shopping to stop and get a new bag; which I did do.

This time however I chose to get the ‘Exceptional Quality Version’.  The bag that states the birds will be so overjoyed at the provision of such, they will sing their little hearts out day in and day out.

And, the claims are true.  The tiny little creatures spread the word rapidly that “Aunt Mary bought the really really great stuff this time!”

My desk and my laptop are situated so that I can look out onto my glass railed balcony and view the expanse of nature’s territory within my scope of life; makes for the most delightful interruptions.

This one particular morning I was hearing a continual succession of “peep – peep – peep – peep”.  Not too quick on the reflex, after about 30 minutes of this I decided that maybe this was not the repeated chatter of a young fledgling, but perhaps a wee bit of a distress call.

Looking up, I could see on the edge of the balcony was a young fledgling Junco female appearing to be doing “squats” while chirping “peep – peep – peep – peep”.

While watching her it became evident that she was performing “squats” on the edge of the balcony to build up momentum to fly the 10” to the feeder, hosting dual 8” perches.  Just as she would take off from the balcony, another bird would swoop in from the tree or space and land on the perch of the feeder ahead of her.  Caught in the adolescent world lacking flight experience, she would panic and fly back to her family nest; only to start her process all over again.

She would fly from the nest, about 25’ to a large Magnolia tree, located about 3’ from the balcony; then from the Magnolia to the balcony.  Here she would rest for a bit, while chirping her “peep – peep – peep – peep”.  Once rested from her juvenile extended flight, she would begin “squats” and chirping her signature, “peep – peep – peep – peep.”  But each time as she left the balcony for the feeder, another bird would swoop in from somewhere and land on the feeder before her. Lacking balance and control, she could not land on the available perch, but would panic and then fly directly to her family nest.  I watched as this process repeated itself for well over an hour.  As she tired, I could see that her right leg was either deformed, or injured, as it became increasingly difficult for her to maneuver the leg and it would dangle loosely and uncontrollably beneath her.

Watching her, my mind filled with scriptures about “even the sparrow….” “God provides food ….” “A man is revealed in how he treats his animals…” and so many other scriptures on kindness, compassion, mercy, love”.  And during this scriptural process, the thought came into my mind, why not sprinkle food across the balcony so that “Miss Peeps” (she now had a name expressing a reflection on her personality as in Biblical times) would not have to fly to the feeders, but rather could simply eat off of the deck itself.

I had a baking tray with a half inch lip, and about 10” wide by 14” long. I put double sided tape on the back to adhere to the deck (did not know if her siblings would join her and perhaps with several onboard the tray, would cause a shifting of the tray around the balcony) and poured a light layer of the “really good stuff” onto the tray. I then placed the tray on the deck near the edge of the balcony.

The next flight of Ms. Peeps, she instantly saw the tray.  Though hesitant to approach, her chorus of “peeps” must have signaled her Dad; because soon enough her Dad arrived on the scene. Dad checked out the tray while Ms. Peeps humbly huddled near the edge of the deck where she usually began her routine of “squats”.  Dad must have given the A-O-K because as he hoped to the edge of the deck, Ms. Peeps struggled to hop to the tray.  Hesitant at first, but never slowing or stopping the “peep – peep – peep – peep”, Ms. Peeps ate.  At first, humbly, hesitant, showing all signs of humility and not wanting to press the boundaries of approaching the provision with boldness and assertion.

The first and second day following, Ms. Peeps, escorted by her Dad, came first thing in the morning, and then last thing in the evening.  The third day was the unleashing of Ms. Peeps.  She came on the hour, and ate with boldness and courage. By the fourth day, she seemed to claim this fortune as being designated for “Ms. Peeps”!  Should any other species of bird attempt to land and eat off of the balcony, Ms. Peeps would chatter and with boldness run them off of the balcony.  This was HER private feeder, ‘Thank you very much Aunt Mary’!

Dad always stood in attendance on the final feeding of the evening, and would escort Ms. Peeps back to the nest when she had finished feeding for the evening.

Ms. Peeps never stopped the “peep – peep – peep – peep” whenever she would come to the balcony. To date, this is still her personal signature.

Juncos grow up so quickly.  Within weeks, she had grown from a ruffled feathered little soul who appeared thin and lacking in luster and health to a gorgeously groomed specimen representing the female Junco.

After about a month or so, when Ms. Peeps arrived shortly before dusk (she now only comes for food last thing of the day-and usually only eats off of the feeders) when she finished feeding, she looked back at the house window, and standing upright and very tall, stretched her right leg out behind her, flexing toes out in a full extension from her leg as if to show me that her leg was now fully healed and 100% sound.

Ms. Peeps still has a non-stop “peeps” when she arrives at the feeder.  She often will bring her younger siblings to feed off of the tray, while she feeds from the hanging feeder.  I was going to sweep up the seeds and remove the tray; and announced such to the birds, as there was no need of the deck feeder with Ms. Peeps fully healed and sound.  The same afternoon, Ms. Peeps arrived with a younger ruffled brother and 2 younger sisters, equally rough feathered and so very tiny in comparison. Ms. Peeps stood in supervision “continuously peeping” while the younger siblings ate from the tray; thus stating that “Aunt Mary my little brothers and little sisters still need the deck to feed until they become big and strong like I have become”.  The “deck feeder” will now remain until late into the fall.

Ms. Peeps has completely stolen my heart; and now when she comes to the deck with her incessant “peeping”, God fills my heart with HIS overwhelming love and passion for HIS creation.  HIS eye is on the sparrow, therefore I know HE watches over me and all who seek HIM and are called by HIS name.

My Reflection on Current Politics

With the passing of Rob Ford this morning in Toronto, I wanted to write my reflection on current politics.

First let me say, no matter how Rob Ford lived his life, he is now being blessed by God, and no one can take that from him.

I find it interesting that people have at last discovered “we have the power in our/the vote!”

Far too long, people have either not voted or mistakenly believed that wealth meant proper discipline and operation of our country(s), and thus voted for the most popular wealthiest politician whom seemed the most popular among the rich and appointed.

I do not think that anyone would disagree that it was a brilliant and influential press campaign that secured President Obama’s two terms in the White House.

But I am seeing that people are finally awakening, so to speak. People are realizing that yes, if the middle and lower classes do their due diligence and get out and vote, we can decide on who runs our country(s).

I say we, as to this moment in time, I was born into, and have remained, in the lower half income earners in my country.

But I am impressed and I am thrilled that a very large majority of people have finally realized that they do have the power through the power of the vote to determine the direction of a country, and things are not as they have always been.

The current USA election has revealed this change in the majority of people’s perceptions.  And, I must confess, the political debates have exposed characteristics coming from individuals I found to be shocking, and of whom I would never have detected these less than quality characteristics to have dwelt within them, except for the expose the current arena of the political debates has revealed.  And for that, I am relieved to know in advance, rather than after the fact of the inner voice of traditional politicians.

It would appear that history is carving new paths; my first awareness of a form of grass roots political identity was Toronto’s Mayor Rob Ford.  Not by any determination possessing any Political Savvy, nor a Suave demeanor, Rob Ford proved he could identify and relate with the middle and lower class of people, people who form the largest voting demographic in North, Central and South Americas. And for that, he became the Mayor of Canada’s largest city.  No matter how you lived, God is now blessing you Rob Ford!  And no one will ever be able to take that crown away from you.

Next, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, whom had no political identity (except as being the son of a past PM), with no business administration experience, yet, he captured the imagination of the middle and lower classes with the hope perhaps he could identify with their needs, wants and dire to escape the confines of their restrictions imposed upon them purely by lack of not being born into the privileged silver bowl of the highest society.

And that brings me to Mr. Donald Trump. I hope sir, you are able to obtain the office of the White House. You have never been anything but “authentic” throughout your entire campaign. And although at times, iridescently rough on the edges, I do believe you will do your utmost to execute change within the USA and emerge as a worthy president for the people of the United States of America. Interesting how your campaign has brought to the surface the hidden afflictions of your opponents, both within your party and without.

In closing I must add, as much as I as any woman, would love to see a woman in the highest position of government, I do not extend any respect towards Hilary Clinton.

I see in her the female epitome of the male chauvinism of pomp, wealth and power that it appears the common people are rising up against, At LAST!  To quote one of the evening talk show hosts, “Hilary, you keep lying, and say that you have never lied!”  “Is this a reflection on the characteristics of your husband, and what worked for him, may indeed work for you, when he claimed he had never had sex outside of his marriage?”  A term which he tried desperately to redefine the common tried and true understanding of marriage and sex outside of.  Hilary, you are just a counterpart of what the middle and lower class voters are trying desperately to be rid of, double talking politicians who only want to get richer and increase the titles on their names!

God Bless Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, God Bless Mr. Donald Trump, the next 4 to 8 years will reveal the changes which are yet to come.

 

So How Did I Determine I Wanted A Dalmatian?

A few years after the heart breaking passing of the last of my Afghan Hounds, I began searching for a “short haired” breed of dog. After 20 years of grooming up to 5 dogs every day, after I had arrived home from working all day, I was completely and utterly groomed out.

Backtracking a bit here, I had moved into a beautiful suite situated above 4 car garage located on 20 acres. And it was here my last Afghan Hound passed away.

Once my heart had healed I began researching breeds of dogs. Several breeds captured my imagination, but I kept returning to one, the Dalmatian. And the choice was largely due to my new social environment, not the standard cliché of which Dalmatians are most noted for, the Disney movie.

Daily, driving to work I would have to stop at an intersection few blocks from my home, to allow a man riding a horse to cross the street. And daily I would have to allow this same man to cross the street on my return drive home from work, though he was usually riding a different horse, on my return trip.

I remember after the first day of this unexpected crossing, I could hardly wait to get home and telephone my dad.

My dad had catered to my passion for horses from the time I came out of the womb, wanting to ride a rocking horse! Kidding. But if they could not find me, I was always asleep on my rocking horse. A feat that my parents could never understand how I did not fall off while in deep sleep. Perhaps this was God’s way of showing them the passion that would reveal itself throughout my lifetime. And this was my passion which my dad always did his best to ensure I remained immersed in my environment.

“Dad guess what?”

“What” came his reply?

“I ran into a guy riding a horse both this morning and again on my return home from work. How exciting is that!”

“My goodness must be a keeper then!”

“And, get this, he was actually riding English, not Western like most men do!”

“Oh a keeper for sure then!”

This intersected stop continued daily throughout the rest of the week. The conversation on Friday night added new and tremendously significant details, it went like this:

“Dad, guess what now?”

“What, oh I don’t know, you got a ring?”

“No don’t be silly; every time he is on a different horse, and all of the horses have roached manes!”

“Roached manes did you say?”

“Yes, I did; yes, ROACHED manes!”

“Ohhhh. Hmmm. Now I AM thinking this is a real keeper, don’t chase him away!”

“Oh, you are saying, ‘be nice to the boys, Fancy!’”

“Well I don’t think I would be going ‘that’ far, but you get my drift, if the horses have roached manes that probably means that he plays Polo, and at least can afford your lifestyle; and to get me off the hook would be nice!”

“Dad!”

“Keep me in the loop, this is actually very interesting.”

A few days later I was in the neighbourhood pub with a friend having dinner. We were invited to join a table of “what appeared to be fellow equestrians”.   And, they were the real deal.

I gave one gal at the table a ride home, as she had invited us both to go riding with her the following weekend.

And take a guess where she lived?

At “the Polo barn”!

When I dropped her off, she gave me the tour. She had one sweet deal, rent free cottage in exchange for feeding the polo ponies.

The Team had jointly purchased a 20 acre farm bordering on an 1800 acre designated Equestrian Park (the property where my suite was located was on the opposite side of the park). They offered self board to the public; but this gal, though not a Polo Groom, was offered a sweet deal feeding in exchange for the cottage.

The Team consisted of City Firefighters and City Lawyers, all of whom owned at least 4 Polo Ponies each, with reserve horses in each one’s string. And what an assortment of personalities comprised the team!

I am so bad, the wheels had started turning at an accelerated pace in my mind!

Maybe I had better wait until we all had that ride together before I mentally had moved all my belongings into the cottage! But I hope you can see, the breed of dog I was searching for, had already been chosen, it simply had to be a Dalmatian!

Polo Loves

Little Miss Cone Head or Miss Bucket Head!

Horror of horrors, Gennevieve was now confined, restricted. Her world had come crashing to a limited vision and ability to move. She who had known no boundaries, now had a very confining and restrictive world.

Very similar to what I imagined a bull in a china shop would resemble, was Gennevieve with a Conehead. She crashed into everything. And she blamed everything but herself for those crashes. After the first 30 minutes or so of banging into counters, furniture, walls, Gennevieve would bark at whatever was restricting her passage. Her fury was released through her vocals. And vocal she was! She was going to shout at the world to move and let her through!

She could not understand why the Veterinarian would have put this contraption on her head. He must hate her! And she in turn would hate him from this moment in time forward! Let’s keep the balance scale even. Records up to date. And it would not be until she went to the Veterinarian years down the road from now, and he was to relieve her of pain, that he would be permitted back into her world of persons of acceptance!

Conehead 2                          Conehead 1

Unfortunately as is common with pets and children, they do not comprehend the why and why not of certain restrictions in life. Excellent training for us however for our future experiences in life. Restrictions should be there to protect us, to aid and abet us in progressive and controlled development. But Gennevieve did not perceive this restriction in that manner at this time.

Gennevieve was having her first lesson in learning to think before she leaped in life. And she was not enjoying the learning experience nor the journey. She needed to stop and think about where she was, where she wanted to be, and the widest and most unencumbered path to traverse from position a to position b. She had to slow down and think all things through before she bounded into action.

Perhaps this is when Gennevieve began composing her Life’s Book of Rules. Maybe this environment stimulated her to want to begin to record life’s dos and don’ts, in order that she may always be on top, and always be the winner, always have the answers.

The characteristic to be the winner in all that she did in life, began when she was born. This was an innate quality of her personality, and specifically was why Gennevieve came to live with me so very very early in her life. More on that later; that story will be called, “Why I Was Chosen As Gennevieve’s Mom”.

She had to be the first, the best, the strongest, the smartest, the quickest, the cutest, and she would fly into a whirling dervish if she wasn’t. To watch such a small, tiny puppy have a temper tantrum at only 10 days of age is quite the scene. She would scream and growl and blow herself up into such a stature, all to be the one and only of the moment.

This Conehead was stopping all of that. And she was angry, and she was going to exercise her anger at everything opposing her paths. But to get so angry was not helping her to be rid of the cone, nor widening her path of travel, and was also terribly exhausting for her. (Go figure! lol)

Her first solution was to sit and stare at the wall. She sat and contemplated the wall for quite awhile, at least 10 minutes. When all of a sudden, she ran strait, square and directly into the wall. Poof. The cone shattered into pieces. She paused, sat and looked at the mess around her for a few seconds and then turned wiggling with joy and delight that she had conquered her problem! She had climbed the mountain and won! She was victorious. Now she got it, this was simply another test for her to win. And she had won. The cone was off. She was free again. She was the victor! But not to wear such a crown as the Conehead!

But the reason for the cone was not yet satisfied nor fulfilled; she still had stitches in her ear. And her ear had the highest level of fragility, and the easiest to re injure without the protection of the cone.

So back on the new cone went. That is the first I remember what I later termed her “ballistic face”. She could bore holes into your soul when she was angry. There was no questioning the “ballistic face”, the complete expression of eyes, brows, muzzle, lips and posture always stated clearly, she was angry!

And so back into the wall she ran. Poof, off it came again. This time however it did not break, but only separated at the seam. And she looked at me as though, there, I will do it again, and again, and again, as long as you put that horrible thing on my head!

Gennevieve, you do not understand sweetheart, the cone is to protect you from further injury, and I cannot let you learn this lesson through the road of hard knocks and suffering. You must wear the cone!

Now her solution of getting this thing off of her head, was challenging me to find a way to prevent wall shattering removal immediately following application. So as every farm owner knows, I reverted to the be all and end all of farm emergency products: duct tape! And I then duct taped the seam, the edges – top and bottom, inside and out. Now let’s try this all over again. And it worked. Duct tape, every horsemen’s cure all to a myriad of farm challenges!

And once again, Little Miss Princess was horrified her solution was not working for her any longer.

Gennevieve clumsily suffered through the next ten days with the cone. Stories will follow of her plotting with the cat, the humiliation suffered from the laughter of the horses, and the joy of scaring the Blue Jays, all in the attempts to win a victory once again over the cone!

The Exuberance Of Youth

Christmas Day.  A brighter and humorous post.

Quite a few years ago I was moving into a new place (new to me).

Perdita, my Dalmatian puppy was now about 4 months old, and stayed at the barn during the day throughout the week while I was at work.  She was happiest there, had her own stall to stay in for the day, so that she could potty at will, had her toys, her food and water, and this was the safest and best location for her while I was at work.

The last 10 days prior to occupancy, the old residence had expired, and the new was delayed by renovations. I made the decisions to stay in a Motel, Monday through Thursday evenings, and then “camp” over the weekend at a KOA across the Border.  Perdita was unaffected by the change, as she continued to spend the days at the barn, and the nights where I was. And to her, as long as I was there, food and water, a place to potty, life was no different.

On the Friday night, I arrived at the KOA after 11 pm.  Found a parking spot for the camper, and then set up the rig for the night.  I walked Perdita to the KOA washrooms, which were located quite a distance from the parking place the camper was located at. Due to the hour of arrival, I could not determine the lifestyles nor types of occupants of the neighboring campers.  Chance to do that in the morning.

We returned to the camper and got settled in for the night.

About 2 am I awoke and had the overwhelming need to empty my bladder, ‘quickly’ very quickly.  I woke up, and so very quickly made a snap assessment of the surroundings determined from “our walk” earlier.  It was 2 am. To walk all the way to the washrooms, I would have to get fully dressed, get Perdita outfitted with collar and leash, and search for the flashlight and puppy bag (just in case she decided she needed to go), and then hope I actually made it in time to get to the washroom.

My snap judgement was to simply sneak behind the camper and then boil water over the spot in the morning or use disinfectant or whatever.  It was 2 am, I did not want to fully wake up, just to potty; when I could properly deal with the aftermath in the morning sometime.

All I had on was my panties and a T-Shirt.  I stepped out of the camper, gently closed the door so as to not wake Perdita, and walked a few feet to the rear of the camper.

Just as I was pulling down my panties, I heard the horrifying noise of “click, click, click, click, click” in a rapid succession.

Horrors, NO! You Have Got To Be Kidding Me!

I jumped up and ran to the door. You guessed it, locked! Locked solid as electronic locks can lock up.

I looked to the Driver’s window.  This little white face was noodle wiggling in celebration of waking up, and finding me, though I be outside and she inside.

After wanting to cry, I wanted to die. You can not jimmy electronic locks.  I was standing outside of my camper in my panties and a T-shirt in another country at 2 am. No keys, no money.

I went to the window and tried to have Perdita imitate me by licking the lock upwards.  I spent over 15 minutes on this tactic, which just made her wiggle noodle all the more, “mommy was acting so funny!”

I then tried to have her stand on the panel again, this time stepping on the unlock button.  No avail.

I then remembered that the entrance to the KOA had a payphone. So off I went praying with all my heart and soul that no one would drive by.

I got to the payphone and called the Operator.  When she came on, I explained my situation and asked her to call Roadside Assistance collect. The Operator refused. She told me that it was an Out of Country Long Distance Call and she refused to put the call through collect. She also stated that they could not come to assist me in a foreign country!!!! So I asked her if she would call “911”. Again she refused, saying that this was not an emergency, I should just go and wake someone in the campground and either ask for their cell to call or for funds to make the long distance call.  Now, in hindsight, I should have asked for her supervisor, but at the moment, I was far to vulnerable and fearful of the state of my dress.

So, I made the choice to walk the 6 miles to the International Border and have the Border Guards call Roadside Assistance.

Every time I heard a car, or people talking, I dove into the bushes until they passed.

About 6:30 am I walked into the Border and Customs office at the International Border. My feet were literally black as tar and I must have been a sight. All the Inspector on duty said was, as he gave me his jacket, “Who do you want me to call, I won’t ask any details.” Which I found to be very funny, and so it let loose a flood of held in stress, and I started to laugh uncontrollably.

After a few minutes of explanation, he called Roadside Assistance, but neglected to say it was an emergency.  And so I sat, in T-Shirt and panties for another hour.  As soon as I spotted the Roadside Van, in one swift movement, I returned the Inspector’s jacket to him, threw back a quick “thank you” and flew out the door to the Van.

The Driver had only started to open his door, and never had a chance to swing his legs out, and I was at the passenger door knocking for him to open it.

He took one look at me, and started to laugh.  I waited a few minutes for his laughter to slow a bit, and then said, “I guess I learned my lesson to not ever take a midnight potty behind my camper, ever again.”

While I retold the experience of the evening, the Roadside Driver could not stop laughing. Once I finished he looked at me and asked,  “do you want to hear the frosting on the cake to your evening?”

“Sure” I said, couldn’t get any better than this can it?

Still laughing he said, “You are my first call after being on my honeymoon vacation for 3 wks.; a honeymoon vacation that did not go so well.”

I looked at him, and we both burst into tears laughing.

We drove back to the Camper in the KOA laughing our heads off together.

He made the unnecessary remark of “if this ever happens again, do not say anything to the Operator, but to put through an emergency call to Roadside to arrange for a tow to the Border for your vehicle, they will then put the call through.”

I looked him in the eye and said, “Happen again?” “Are you serious!”  “This will NEVER happen again. My keys will never leave my hand, ever, ever again!”

And they never did.

When we arrived, there was Perdita sound asleep in the bed.  Camper locked up tight as ever.  And when we unlocked the Camper, she opened an eye, stretched and looked as if “did you have a good sleep too mommy?”

Yes dear. Splendid.

My saving grace was no one nearby appeared to be awake yet, or “home” when I returned to have my camper opened up.

Ah the innocence of children and pets’ actions.  Teaches us adults to stay accountable at all times at all costs!

Life As A Fish In A Bowl or A Bird In A Cage

As I stated much earlier, God has always provided me with glimpses of the road ahead, or revelations or insights into the root of a situation. Now to say that is to also say, I am not ever the quickest study, and it is often not until completely coming through the situation or storm, that I then realize the earlier vision – revelation – insight that was given years prior.  God is such a good God, for He truly has uniquely formed each and everyone of us to be the creation that He has designed, not any of us to be a “man-made” creation; however he uses our neighboring masses to form and to shape us into the person He wants each of us to become.  In situations where individuals want to be “our God” I can hear God tell the individual or the masses, “Go get your own dirt to start with!”

Let me remind the reader, that I grew up with a father with 4 brothers, all but one were jocks, all were talented and creative in differing venues, and 3 of the 5 were pretty “hot”. But only perhaps one, was chauvinistic, and borderline abusive. The other 4 all respected women as equals, possessing a mind and skills that God had designed for His purpose for their life.

This post will be about how where we are situated is entirely God Blessed or Man Made. It can be both, but it will be perfectly clear when it is one, the other, or both; and I have lived in all three.

In a God Blessed environment an individual has favor from both God and your neighboring humanity.  Here a person thrives, lives in a continual “Rock Star” environment.  You love everyone, and everyone loves you. Not for what you can give, not for what you can be or do for them, but exactly for who you are, without any changes, complete with spots, blemishes, scars and dysfunction. And this is truly Agape Love as was John and Jesus relationship and love for one another. Here, you literally can not ever fail. You are so blessed with favor, that every situation in your life is “covered, provided for, secured” that it is similar to living in the womb or being born into unlimited wealth combined with unrestricted love, care and concern.  What you vision for your life, and the vision others have for your life, is one and the same; no variations from one another in the two perceptions. You are living the Rock Star life day in and out.

Man Made is the title of the post, Life In A Fishbowl or Life in A Bird Cage.

The vision of the Man Made environment, God gave to me while I was living the life of a Rock Star. The vision opens where I was sitting in a kitchen filled with men dressed in “typical blue collar attire” and “wife beater” attire. And God portrayed this in such a manner to give me an indication of the road ahead performed by individuals who generally speaking are not in search of education, personal and mutual respect, and moral integrity of one another.  Remember, God was speaking to me in terms I would understand His prevailing message directed to me.

The vision begins with one of the men walking into the kitchen with a bird in a cage. At the table was seated 8 other men.

The bird in the cage was a Canary. A Snow White Canary without any markings of any kind.

The canary however was a female.  A female, not a male. As many know, males are the notorious singers, while females are very, very selective and reserved singers.

The man sat the canary in the cage in the center of the kitchen table. Though the table was large, seating 8 people comfortably, not the place to put a bird in a cage.

The vision progressed over years.  But the scenarios that played out were all with the same intention.  How to get this bird to sing.

Each of the men tried their hand in the attempts. The schemes they used were first with food, placing the cage by the window, completely covering the cage, shouting at the canary, banging and smashing the cage on the table top, poking sticks into the cage, removing all ornaments from inside the cage, removing food and water from the cage for extended periods of days on end, putting cats on the kitchen table to attack at the canary in the cage, playing blasting rock music next to the cage. All to no avail. The white female canary refused to sing.

The white canary was me. Isaiah 54:17 No weapon formed against me shall ever prosper. Read the Word of God outloud!  For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.
And it is effective, we use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments.

One day while the kitchen was empty, with no one around, Jesus walked into the room, and opened the door to the cage and the canary leaped onto His hand.  Jesus walked to the door leading outside, opened it and went out; all while the canary sat comfortably on His hand. He walked to the edge of the balcony and threw the canary up into the air. Fly sweet bird, fly free and soar. The canary never returned to the house but could be heard for years to come singing throughout the trees of the surrounding woods.

Merry Merry Christmas!

Jesus is Love, pure unadulterated love, unconditional love, mutual love but always with respect.

My Interpretation of Bathsheba

My interpretation of Bathsheba

Let me start this by saying, I hate religion. I love Christianity, and a relationship with God. But I find religion hard to take.  And for this post, I am referring in particular to the supported premise of “marriage until death do you part”.  I personally do not find many marriages to be God glorifying, and I most definitely do not accept anyone should stay in any relationship if there is ANY form of abuse or destruction to one or more of the principles. Whether that abuse or destruction is mental, psychological, physical, sexual or in what form. I would be gone in a New York minute. And nothing will change my view of any such relationships. I have walked with God for over 35 years now, and I do not believe for one moment, that abusive relationship are supportive in any fashion of who and what I believe God of Christianity expects from any one of us. Period. Now read on and enjoy my interpretation of Bathsheba.

I am under the belief that Bathsheba was a very, very intelligent woman; besides being very beautiful, as the Bible states.

Bathsheba was married to Uriah. From the Biblical accounts of Uriah, I do not believe that he loved her, so much as the attention he received from being married to her. She was favored by all. Beauty does that, draws attention, and favor. Being beautiful inside however, is the ingredient that retains quality friendships who are initially attracted to the exterior.

Uriah was intent on proving himself to people as worthy. Uriah was the one to go over and above the call of duty, if it made him appear all the more diligent, all the more committed. Uriah sought the applause of people, not God.

And Uriah was shallow. Uriah was afraid of transparency. Uriah was afraid of candor. Uriah sought the safety of relationships of no depth and no intimacy. Relationships of casual acquaintanceship. Relationships where there is little accountability, little change or refining or improvement of character.

Bathsheba was an intelligent, beautiful, talented woman. She gave in abundance, but in giving, she also expected equally in return. And from Uriah she was sorely neglected. The Bible says so. She wanted an attentive husband and a family and the nurturing and close relationships that come from having a family. But Uriah was more concerned with how he appeared to everyone of “authority” in his world, above and below him in his world.

Bathsheba understood the customs and the times in which she lived. She knew full well that the only way out of marriage was adultery. But, adultery came with the penalty of being stoned to death. Bathsheba understood that though she was incredibly beautiful, talented and intelligent, these qualities would be overlooked by men and women, for the justification of the act of adultery, and she indeed would be stoned to death.

I can imagine her thinking of ways of how to get out of her marriage. And then one night while sitting in her bath on her rooftop, she looked up and saw the King’s palace above her. Clearly. An unrestricted view above her. She could see the King’s terrace just as clearly as he could see her rooftop.

She began to watch from her window the King’s routines, when he would appear on the terrace. Then the thoughts began to form within her. The King had a penchant for beautiful women. The King was also attracted to women in need of protection and defense. And then she began to plan. If she could time her ovulation just right, maybe, just maybe she would be successful.

Bathsheba realized that her only chance of not being stoned to death by adultery was if she was to commit adultery with someone of great authority, and the King would have the power to stay the execution. Yet she also needed a man who had great compassion for women. Was this her answer, this man, this King, who’s courtyard looked down upon her lowly rooftop?

And so Bathsheba began setting her bait. She began to bath on her rooftop when she was sure that King David was in his quarters. And she began to pray. Pray God would cause King David to come out onto his balcony while Bathsheba was having her evening bath. And, King David began to inquire as to who was this rooftop below his palace? Who lived in this particular house down below. King David was relieved to hear that this was the home of one of his soldiers. A man who was married to the most beautiful woman, only to neglect her in order to fully and unconditionally serve the needs of his community; simply because his soul found delight in the spoken and voiced approval of people, not in developing a one on one relationship of transparency and consideration and equality with his wife, and potential family of children. And most likely, Uriah would have to learn how to refine his personality and characteristics.

While planning her ultimate bath, the timing of her ovulation was clearly on her mind. Bathsheba planned and executed the days prior to her best day of ovulation, providing glimpses of what David might have, if he so chose. During those preparatory days, King David would only get glimpses of Bathsheba. Glimpses of her stepping out of her bath, glimpses of being wrapped in towels by her maids. Bathsheba was building each day with longer and longer glimpses and increased seduction in her robing and brushing out of her hair, sometimes dry, sometimes wet.

The night of her initial stages of ovulation, Bathsheba waited to bath much later in the night. Later, when most everyone had retired for the night. All alone, without her maids attending. Bathsheba waited behind the window, watching for King David to frequent the balcony in search of her. And when she anticipated he could not live another minute without seeing her bathe, she came out onto her rooftop. She drew her water alone. Scantily clad in clothing that clearly revealed her nakedness underneath. And dropping her robe, she stepped into full view before King David as she stepped into her bath.

King David jumped at the bait, running inside his room, calling his attendants, he commanded them to go and to bring Bathsheba to him, immediately.  And as the Bible states, they did.

Bathsheba then waited.

The courage it took Bathsheba to notify King David she was pregnant was nothing when compared to the realization of what would happen to her and her child if she simply waited out the pregnancy. Could she actually pretend that the child was Uriah’s? Did she want to continue this marriage? Could she exist raising a family basically alone; though she may have a husband, was this a man, a man she wanted raising her children with? Was this a man who would love and nurture her children alongside of her? Most assuredly not. How can I say not? Did not the lineage of Jesus come down through King David and Bathsheba?

Bathsheba decided to complete her plan. Bathsheba put the ball back into King David’s court. Let King David decide her fate. And so she sent King David a private note delivered by her maid. No one was to know. Her letter, as her fate, was sealed. In her note, she informed King David she had not been with any other man, not even her husband, months prior to, and up until now. This was stated so King David clearly would know that the child was his, and his alone.

The rest is Biblical history. King David pulled Uriah home from the war. Uriah refused to go home, and chose rather to sleep at the city gate, as pursuant to Uriah’s crowd pleasing personality. And hence King David chose to have Uriah killed in action.

This was the lineage that God chose to have Jesus descend from. God knew and planned all along for this relationship to happen. King Solomon was God’s chosen passage of Jesus birth. Bathsheba’s plan was ultimately God’s plan.