October finally arrives in Oklahoma, the hot wind and temperature of summer are now a bad memory. I take my morning coffee to the patio and breathe in the crisp pre-dawn air, just enough chill to give me goose bumps. Watching the eastern sky the yellows, reds and oranges of another beautiful sunrise was just peeking over the horizon, I had a thought, no a brilliant idea and it was time for action.
I ran inside and grabbed my shop keys, I then told Beautiful to go get dressed, that we’re going for a ride. I opened my shop and after taking the car cover off, I dropped the top on my 1950 Dodge Wayfarer Sportabout. I started it and moved to the front of the house, once inside I grabbed a jacket for me and Beautiful, along with a blanket for her to wrap up in. I then made a thermos of coffee, grabbed a couple of bagels and apples. By then Beautiful was ready, so we hopped in and took off. If we hurry, we can catch the last of the sunrise on Mount Scott in the Wildlife Refuge.
The Old Gal purred as we climbed the mountain, and the car ran well also. At the top, we parked and watched the last oranges turn to red then to yellow before the sun chased the colors away and replaced it with a bright blue sky. We watched as the world came alive, the birds started singing, we watched the buffalo herd head towards the lake, and the park ranger asking us why we were up there before the park opened.
With a last sip of coffee, I crank the old flathead six over and we head to the house, the highlight of the day over, or maybe not, in about twelve hours the sun will have to set, sounds like another road trip is in our future.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Sand Pebbles
Remember the wet sand between our toes,
As the waves kissed our feet?
The midnight moonlit walks
With stars in our eyes.
We swore that we would live there
Some day.
Now I wash the blood soaked sand
From my boots
The stroll we so loved
Now tarnished with war.
Never will I yearn to feel those sand pebbles again,
If I return to you.
As the waves kissed our feet?
The midnight moonlit walks
With stars in our eyes.
We swore that we would live there
Some day.
Now I wash the blood soaked sand
From my boots
The stroll we so loved
Now tarnished with war.
Never will I yearn to feel those sand pebbles again,
If I return to you.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Sandra Dee, We'll Miss Thee
It's been a while since my last "It's been a while" post. I've gotten skinny and then I've gotten fat. I've lost more hair, and my job is really boring at the moment. So why am I back after such a long absence? I'm glad you asked.
I recently heard of the passing of a "on-line" friend, a fellow classmate of my first writing class. She had a writing style all her own, one that left you waiting, hoping she'd post another one of her creations. That class was a lot of laughs, at lot of learning from each other and from Ann, the teacher, it was one of the most enjoyable times in my life.
Here is what I posted on Ann's Writing site
I recently heard of the passing of a "on-line" friend, a fellow classmate of my first writing class. She had a writing style all her own, one that left you waiting, hoping she'd post another one of her creations. That class was a lot of laughs, at lot of learning from each other and from Ann, the teacher, it was one of the most enjoyable times in my life.
Here is what I posted on Ann's Writing site
- The one regret about learning to love new friends through a online class like BWW is that we never meet face to face. We learn about each other’s heart and soul, we become as close as those that we daily on a personal level, always hoping that one day, lkwe can give each other a physical hug and sit and tell stories and tip a glass to our health. Thus its a sad day when we hear that we will never have the chance to sit and listen to Sandra Dee spin a story just for us.I don’t remember where it was exactly, maybe in BWW, but we talked of a time where we’d meet on Gully’s deck with our laptops and write. Maybe that will be a part of Heaven, Sandra Dee waiting on us with her glass raised.
- I don't know if I'll ever meet my cyber friends, It doesn't really matter. What matters is that I have gotten to know them, love them, and gotten to know their hearts through their writings. They have taken me on journeys around the world with their words, and taken me inside myself to reflect. So, it doesn't matter if we meet, a piece of each lives within me, and I proudly carry them with me wherever I go.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
New Year, New Post
To say it's been a while, is an understatement. I've had plenty to say, but I just didn't put it down on paper. Before I knew it, 2015 was a bad memory and 2016 swooped in to pick up where it left off. I was going to rant about several things, but decided I'm going to try to be positive this year. That will be hard for a old fart like me. Instead, I think I'll take a cue from the Jerry Seinfeld show and post about nothing. Hope you enjoy it.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Blind Date
From a writing prompt @Ann Linquist Writes:
Use these phases;
- Isn’t anyone going to give me a break?
- Am I going to have to separate you two?
- Who said?
I climb into the back seat of my friend’s ’57 Chevy and come face to face with one of the most beautiful girls I ever seen in person. Now who is going to be self-conscience. Introductions proceeded, yadayadayada, I sit back on the passenger side of the back seat and before I can say “sockittomemama” she was at my side. We proceeded to talk and get to know each other, and before I knew it, her hand was high on my thigh, “Oh my.” she said, “is that a banana or are you just glad to see me.” Really, did you just say that? Her cousin, yelled from the front seat, “Believe me, that ain’t no banana.” How did she know?
We were on our way to a pizza place in another town, a 30 minute drive. With it being January in an old car with a bad defroster, before long the back side glass was steamed up, not that we noticed. We pulled into the pizza place, and my friend and his gal stepped out of the car, he pulled the seat forward to help us out but we were in lip-lock heaven. He yelled at us, “Hey, am I going to have to separate you two?” We didn’t budge, “Come on, isn’t anyone going to give me a break? I’m starving.” She broke off the kiss and started buttoning her blouse, I tried to get my hair to lay down, along with other things. It was a long journey inside with the limp I had to walk with.
While we were waiting for our pizza to arrive, the song “If” by Bread came on the jukebox. She stood and grabbed my hand and we slow danced in the isle beside our table. Before the chorus started another couple started dancing beside their table, our friends joined us as we slipped into a world of our own. Before we knew it the clock was striking 12, and where the Chevy didn’t turn into a pumpkin, it was time to part. A long goodbye kiss, an exchange of addresses and phone numbers with the promise that we’d once again meet.
Who said blind dates are a bad idea?
Sunday, August 24, 2014
The Middle Of Rubble
I look at pictures of the rubble after 9-11, and wonder just what my life, my heart, looks like. I wonder if for a moment I saw my soul in all it's sinful condition, the way God see me, how would that change my live? I know me, probably better than anyone else on this green earth, and I know that sight wouldn't be pretty. Pretty scary actually. And the fact is, there is nothing I can do about it. Yes, I'm probably not on the Charles Manson, crazy pycho scale, but neve-the-less, my soul is black, I fail consistantly, I walk my path and don't bother to ask for directions from the One whom would guide me down the narrow path safely until I made it Home. Yes, I would be scared to see me as God sees me except for one thing, one choice I made many years ago.
Just like the pictures of 9-11, my soul was rubble, a burnt out, blackened shell. Now I know that what God sees when he looks at me, isn't the junk, the poor choices, the stupid stuff that I do. No, just like the picture from 9-11, what God sees when He looks at me is the Cross, He looks at me through "rose colored glasses" tinted by the blood of Christ. My soul is His, as the song says, "I'm washed in the blood," and no longer is the rubble I've made of my life visible to Him, as he forgives and forgets.
Other attacks will come, there will still be rubble in my life, but I no longer fear them, as I know I will rise from the rubble, to a life I can't now imagine. And as another song says:, "O What A Day That Will Be."
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Why I Don't Write Poetry 2014-1
Love descended on her,
Not expected.
Making her life a blur.
Would it last a season?
Or last a lifetime?
No time to think, to reason.
I watch with eyes fully open
As this Love unfolded
Between the two chosen ones.
But Love is cruel,
Vicious, unkind.
Making someone always play the fool.
The wind came one day of gray,
And with the leaves,
Whisked her Love away.
He left for a world of sand,
Sent to defend a people,
A selfish land.
The letter said he was very brave,
Protected his men, his life,
Until the very last wave.
Now she holds a metal of gold,
Something to be proud of,
That's what she's told.
But a metal of gold,
Won't hold you tight,
Or shield you from the cold.
But she'll go on.
And she will fight her own crusades.
Another casualty of a battle won.
Not expected.
Making her life a blur.
Would it last a season?
Or last a lifetime?
No time to think, to reason.
I watch with eyes fully open
As this Love unfolded
Between the two chosen ones.
But Love is cruel,
Vicious, unkind.
Making someone always play the fool.
The wind came one day of gray,
And with the leaves,
Whisked her Love away.
He left for a world of sand,
Sent to defend a people,
A selfish land.
The letter said he was very brave,
Protected his men, his life,
Until the very last wave.
Now she holds a metal of gold,
Something to be proud of,
That's what she's told.
But a metal of gold,
Won't hold you tight,
Or shield you from the cold.
But she'll go on.
And she will fight her own crusades.
Another casualty of a battle won.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Ann's Writing Prompt
My writing teach, Ann, had this challenge on her blog: Write a story using these phases:
A big E
Macaroni and cheese
An annoying limp
A woman named Red Hannah
Here's my go:
My hometown was full of interesting characters. One was a woman named Red Hanna, that was our name for her anyway. Her real name was Hanna Motova, and hailed from somewhere in the depths of Siberia. We called her Red because she was the only Communist that we knew. The rumor was that she was the love child of Leonid Brezhnev and Bess Truman, but that was never proven.
She wasn’t a bad looking woman, as least as a junior higher I didn’t think so, but she was on the strange side. You’d ask her a question and she’d say, “A big E” and then go into a rant about how Macaroni and Cheese was best if you added some tripe to it. She always had a glass of red Kool-Aid in her hand and a paper sack that had our imaginations running wild. Some said it was her dead cat that she brought from Russia, others said it was the hand of her lover back home, others said it was a pickle loaf sandwich. I didn’t want to know, especially since I worked at the grocery store sacking groceries and had seen her buy pickle loaf.
Red Hanna lived in a hut down across from the grain elevator. I always felt sorry for Red Hanna, she walked with an annoying limp which she tried to hid by walking with on foot on the curb while the other was in the street. She could make you sea sick if you watched her bopping up and down as she walked. She always swung her arm with the paper bag high in the air while she was walking. If there was a strong head wind, she would turn around and walk backwards. If it rained, she would put a laundry basket over her head. It didn’t matter the weather Red Hanna was going to be going somewhere.
One day she didn’t make her appointed rounds and the police was sent to check on her. She wasn’t at her shack, and to this day there hasn’t been a sign of her anywhere. Of course the rumors ran wild about how the Russians kidnapped her to take her back to the homeland, and they could be right since sitting on her kitchen table was her glass of red Kool-Aid and her paper bag.
A big E
Macaroni and cheese
An annoying limp
A woman named Red Hannah
Here's my go:
My hometown was full of interesting characters. One was a woman named Red Hanna, that was our name for her anyway. Her real name was Hanna Motova, and hailed from somewhere in the depths of Siberia. We called her Red because she was the only Communist that we knew. The rumor was that she was the love child of Leonid Brezhnev and Bess Truman, but that was never proven.
She wasn’t a bad looking woman, as least as a junior higher I didn’t think so, but she was on the strange side. You’d ask her a question and she’d say, “A big E” and then go into a rant about how Macaroni and Cheese was best if you added some tripe to it. She always had a glass of red Kool-Aid in her hand and a paper sack that had our imaginations running wild. Some said it was her dead cat that she brought from Russia, others said it was the hand of her lover back home, others said it was a pickle loaf sandwich. I didn’t want to know, especially since I worked at the grocery store sacking groceries and had seen her buy pickle loaf.
Red Hanna lived in a hut down across from the grain elevator. I always felt sorry for Red Hanna, she walked with an annoying limp which she tried to hid by walking with on foot on the curb while the other was in the street. She could make you sea sick if you watched her bopping up and down as she walked. She always swung her arm with the paper bag high in the air while she was walking. If there was a strong head wind, she would turn around and walk backwards. If it rained, she would put a laundry basket over her head. It didn’t matter the weather Red Hanna was going to be going somewhere.
One day she didn’t make her appointed rounds and the police was sent to check on her. She wasn’t at her shack, and to this day there hasn’t been a sign of her anywhere. Of course the rumors ran wild about how the Russians kidnapped her to take her back to the homeland, and they could be right since sitting on her kitchen table was her glass of red Kool-Aid and her paper bag.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The Key
I jerked open my junk door looking for some batteries, Monk was coming on and the blasted remote was dead. The drawer’s catch broke, and I flung the drawer across the room, sending it’s contents over the kitchen floor. Between my curses I find a long forgotten treasure causing memories of my past to come flooding back. Jessie’s voice sounded as clear as the day she said them, “I have something for you,” holding up a key for me to see, “it is for a red bound book in my library. You’ll know the one, it’s the only book with a lock on it. And no, it’s not my diary, it’s much more important than that, but you have to promise me, don’t open it until I show it to you or unless something happens to me. You have to promise that.”
I made that promise that day so many years ago. I placed the key in the drawer as she watched, and until now, forgotten all about it.
They say women has this sixth sense about them, I believe that to be true. Six months to the day later, a man walked into the grocery store and shot at his ex-wife, only mine was standing between them. The doctor said she felt no pain, that death was instant. I guess that was intended to make me feel better, there are some strange things people say during times like this.
Now all that I repressed is welling itself back up. I started questioning why now that I had to find that key. Why now that I was starting to get my life back together, why now when I felt like I was ready to love again?
“Why, God, why now?”
I close my fist around the key, she was the last person besides me to touch it, the sensation of that thought rippled through my body. I suddenly could feel her touch, smell her scent, and hear her voice. Her face shone in my memory and her smile, I’d forgotten how wonderful her smile was.
“Why God, why Jessie?” I must have asked that question a million times, and a million times the answer I recieved was silence. Still, I’ll ask it again one day, and the day after that, until either I join her or God reveals the reason someone as wonderful as Jessie was taken so early in life.
I walk to the room Jessie made into her library. This was her favorite room, all her books were here and here is where she loved to be. She had her favorite authors, Snyder and his drunk Basset hound made her laugh, Weiland took her to castles and knights in shining armor, Yezak took her back to her biggest dream, riding in a rodeo. Those books were right beside the big red book.
You can tell it has been years since it had been touched, dust covered it and the bookshelf where it laid. I blow the dust off and place it on her reading table. The key slid in and the lock popped open. I hesitated before opening the heavy cover, my mind full of what I’d find, but it slowly opened, dust flying as it landed with a thud on the table.
The first page was a dedication, I guess you’d call it that, that spoke of how Katie Lynn Mathis received this book from her mother on her eighth birthday. Katie Lynn, who was Katie Lynn? Mathis was Jessie’s maiden name, but her full name was Jessica Gail Mathis. Who was this Katie Lynn?
I turn the first page and there is a light blue envelope with my name on it. My stomach tightens as I pick it up, I look at Jessie’s handwriting. My tears land on the envelope beside existingssmudges. Jessie’s Teardrops? I pull the letter out, two pages handwritten by my first and only love. The emptiness came back and tears blurred my vision. Oh, how I miss her. I miss her laugh, her smile, the way she’d twist the Frito bag closed. I miss her scent, her soft snoring, her touch. It’s amazing how two sheets of paper would open up those memories.
I unfold the letter and begin to read, “My darling. If you are reading this letter then I know I must be gone. I am sorry, I wanted to tell you but I didn’t have the nerve, the opportunity or the words. I hope you are moving on with your life. Be happy.
Love again, even if it is painful, you are too wonderful to be alone. So find love, but remember, I loved you first, and I still love you. Now there is some things I must tell set straight.”
“This red book was a gift I gave someone very special in my life. Katie Lynn was my daughter. When I was fourteen I thought I was in love with a seventeen year old boy. We made love and I became pregnant. Everyone tried to make me get rid of it, but I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. Katie Lynn became my reason for living. We weren’t only mother and daughter, we were best friends. On her eighth birthday I gave her this book to write her most inner feelings and dreams. She was quite a gifted writer for her age, read her entries and you’ll see what I mean.”
“About a week before Christmas that year, Katie and I were shopping for Grandpa Robert’s Christmas gift. She was beside me one moment, and the next she was gone. I don’t know how they grabbed her without someone seeing, but they did. The police gave up looking after a couple of months saying that after that amount of time, chances were slim that she’d still be alive. I know better. I know she’s still alive, still out there prisoner of some sick perverted mind that keeps her away from me.”
“This is the reason for this letter, please keep Katies memory alive,one day she will return home, freed from her prison. Welcome her and tell her I loved her with all my being. Tell her that my heart ached everyday for her hug and kisses. Tell her that you will be her father if she will let you. Open not only our home to her, but open your heart. When you marry, make sure she will love her also. I know your love, I have felt your love, and I know you’ll love her with your whole being, I can rest easy, knowing that.”
“I never told you about her because I didn’t want you, my hero, to go riding off on your stallion to rescue her. I know you wouldn’t have stopped until you found her and I couldn’t take that chance of losing you also. I am sorry that I didn’t trust you with this, but I couldn’t survive losing you.”
“Now my love, I’ll leave you to read what was in Katie’s heart, and what I hope still resides there. I know you’ll develop a love for her from her words, amazing words of an eight year old. Also know that I love you with my whole being, physical and now spiritual, also know that one day I’ll meet you as Jesus leads you into paradise. All my love, Jessie.”
I slowly turn the page and look at the scrawlings on it. Definitely written by an eight year old. After several pages I put the book back on the table and wipe the tears from my eyes. The words were amazing, so full of life, so full of hope, so full of wisdom. She definitely was or is her mother’s daughter. Jessie was right, her words put a love for this little girl in my heart.
I stand and start down the staircase, as I reach the bottom I hear a knock at the door. I open it and there stands Jessie;s dad, Robert, and a young teenage girl. Robert’s eyes are red rimmed as if he had been crying, but they were dancing with delight. I look at the girl and see Jessie’s eyes, her nose, her shy smile. My heart skips a beat as the reality of who she is floods my mind, “Katie?” She nods and we fall to our knees, sobbing as we embrace. I look up at Robert who has tears running down his cheeks, he said, “She was taken my a couple of old maid sisters who wanted a child to raise. They loved her as if she was theirs and treated her like the princess she is. When they read about Jessie death, they decided Katie needed to know what was left of her family. It took them some time to prepare Katie to meet her real family.”
Her real family, that sounds good, no, that sounded great. I looked her in the eyes and said, “Welcome home Katie Lynn. Come inside, your mother has something for you. A key to a red bound book where you can write all your thoughts and dreams.”
I made that promise that day so many years ago. I placed the key in the drawer as she watched, and until now, forgotten all about it.
They say women has this sixth sense about them, I believe that to be true. Six months to the day later, a man walked into the grocery store and shot at his ex-wife, only mine was standing between them. The doctor said she felt no pain, that death was instant. I guess that was intended to make me feel better, there are some strange things people say during times like this.
Now all that I repressed is welling itself back up. I started questioning why now that I had to find that key. Why now that I was starting to get my life back together, why now when I felt like I was ready to love again?
“Why, God, why now?”
I close my fist around the key, she was the last person besides me to touch it, the sensation of that thought rippled through my body. I suddenly could feel her touch, smell her scent, and hear her voice. Her face shone in my memory and her smile, I’d forgotten how wonderful her smile was.
“Why God, why Jessie?” I must have asked that question a million times, and a million times the answer I recieved was silence. Still, I’ll ask it again one day, and the day after that, until either I join her or God reveals the reason someone as wonderful as Jessie was taken so early in life.
I walk to the room Jessie made into her library. This was her favorite room, all her books were here and here is where she loved to be. She had her favorite authors, Snyder and his drunk Basset hound made her laugh, Weiland took her to castles and knights in shining armor, Yezak took her back to her biggest dream, riding in a rodeo. Those books were right beside the big red book.
You can tell it has been years since it had been touched, dust covered it and the bookshelf where it laid. I blow the dust off and place it on her reading table. The key slid in and the lock popped open. I hesitated before opening the heavy cover, my mind full of what I’d find, but it slowly opened, dust flying as it landed with a thud on the table.
The first page was a dedication, I guess you’d call it that, that spoke of how Katie Lynn Mathis received this book from her mother on her eighth birthday. Katie Lynn, who was Katie Lynn? Mathis was Jessie’s maiden name, but her full name was Jessica Gail Mathis. Who was this Katie Lynn?
I turn the first page and there is a light blue envelope with my name on it. My stomach tightens as I pick it up, I look at Jessie’s handwriting. My tears land on the envelope beside existingssmudges. Jessie’s Teardrops? I pull the letter out, two pages handwritten by my first and only love. The emptiness came back and tears blurred my vision. Oh, how I miss her. I miss her laugh, her smile, the way she’d twist the Frito bag closed. I miss her scent, her soft snoring, her touch. It’s amazing how two sheets of paper would open up those memories.
I unfold the letter and begin to read, “My darling. If you are reading this letter then I know I must be gone. I am sorry, I wanted to tell you but I didn’t have the nerve, the opportunity or the words. I hope you are moving on with your life. Be happy.
Love again, even if it is painful, you are too wonderful to be alone. So find love, but remember, I loved you first, and I still love you. Now there is some things I must tell set straight.”
“This red book was a gift I gave someone very special in my life. Katie Lynn was my daughter. When I was fourteen I thought I was in love with a seventeen year old boy. We made love and I became pregnant. Everyone tried to make me get rid of it, but I couldn’t and I wouldn’t. Katie Lynn became my reason for living. We weren’t only mother and daughter, we were best friends. On her eighth birthday I gave her this book to write her most inner feelings and dreams. She was quite a gifted writer for her age, read her entries and you’ll see what I mean.”
“About a week before Christmas that year, Katie and I were shopping for Grandpa Robert’s Christmas gift. She was beside me one moment, and the next she was gone. I don’t know how they grabbed her without someone seeing, but they did. The police gave up looking after a couple of months saying that after that amount of time, chances were slim that she’d still be alive. I know better. I know she’s still alive, still out there prisoner of some sick perverted mind that keeps her away from me.”
“This is the reason for this letter, please keep Katies memory alive,one day she will return home, freed from her prison. Welcome her and tell her I loved her with all my being. Tell her that my heart ached everyday for her hug and kisses. Tell her that you will be her father if she will let you. Open not only our home to her, but open your heart. When you marry, make sure she will love her also. I know your love, I have felt your love, and I know you’ll love her with your whole being, I can rest easy, knowing that.”
“I never told you about her because I didn’t want you, my hero, to go riding off on your stallion to rescue her. I know you wouldn’t have stopped until you found her and I couldn’t take that chance of losing you also. I am sorry that I didn’t trust you with this, but I couldn’t survive losing you.”
“Now my love, I’ll leave you to read what was in Katie’s heart, and what I hope still resides there. I know you’ll develop a love for her from her words, amazing words of an eight year old. Also know that I love you with my whole being, physical and now spiritual, also know that one day I’ll meet you as Jesus leads you into paradise. All my love, Jessie.”
I slowly turn the page and look at the scrawlings on it. Definitely written by an eight year old. After several pages I put the book back on the table and wipe the tears from my eyes. The words were amazing, so full of life, so full of hope, so full of wisdom. She definitely was or is her mother’s daughter. Jessie was right, her words put a love for this little girl in my heart.
I stand and start down the staircase, as I reach the bottom I hear a knock at the door. I open it and there stands Jessie;s dad, Robert, and a young teenage girl. Robert’s eyes are red rimmed as if he had been crying, but they were dancing with delight. I look at the girl and see Jessie’s eyes, her nose, her shy smile. My heart skips a beat as the reality of who she is floods my mind, “Katie?” She nods and we fall to our knees, sobbing as we embrace. I look up at Robert who has tears running down his cheeks, he said, “She was taken my a couple of old maid sisters who wanted a child to raise. They loved her as if she was theirs and treated her like the princess she is. When they read about Jessie death, they decided Katie needed to know what was left of her family. It took them some time to prepare Katie to meet her real family.”
Her real family, that sounds good, no, that sounded great. I looked her in the eyes and said, “Welcome home Katie Lynn. Come inside, your mother has something for you. A key to a red bound book where you can write all your thoughts and dreams.”
Saturday, August 24, 2013
National Attention
My hometown is currently the attention of the world since Christopher Lane was gunned down while jogging. I didn't know him, but I have worked with his girlfriend's father for almost thirty years, so it hit a little closer to home than I'm comfortable with. All that I've been told about this man was good, he was funny, cared about people, often helping someone out even though he didn't know them, and on and on the accolades go for Chis.
I guess that's what disturbs me most about the incident, a good man is gone from this world while three thugs live on, dancing at their booking, showing no remorse. Wannabe gangsters, wannabe tough guys. I wonder how tough they're going to be when Bubba wants them for his girlfriend in the Big House.
I've sat back and looked at how things have changed in my short life time. Gone is respect. Gone is courtesy. Gone are the values that grew this nation, faith, family and hard work. All replaced by the victim mentality. Now instead of working for something, it's perceived that it is all owed. Now instead of respecting others, it's how am I going to get what they've got. Now Dad is replaced with a welfare check and food stamps. Now God is replaced with worship of self and selfish desires.
What is the result? A good man gets gunned down for fun, because they were "bored". Countless lives changed because of a single act.
So who is responsible for these boys and others like them throughout the nation? I think there's blame enough to go around, but here are a few reasons that stand out to me......
1. National Black Leaders. To name a few names, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and even our President Obama. When a black youth was shot while attacking a man, they were on the news within hours if not minutes commending it. The silence after Chris' murder is deafening. Where are these race baiting men that have kept the Black community down now that a more heinous crime was committed by someone of their race? Is it not profitable to call for a march for justice for Chris? Did Chris look like the President's son if he had one? The result, generations that hate other races because they have been taught that those races "hold them down". The good examples of blacks that have succeeded is endless, from Oliver Cromwell who fought beside Washington in the Revolution, Fredrick Douglas who escaped slavery and worked with Lincoln on the Emancipation Proclamation, in the earlier years of our country, one of the Speaker of the House was a black man, and on and on to this day when there are living examples like Clarence Thomas, Alan West and others who stepped out of the role of victim and exceeded, not letting that mentality hold them down.
2. Our Government. Particularly the Democrat Party. For decades, probably since, if not before, Woodrow Wilson, the Democrat's have been the party of entitlements. Win votes with freebies. The result, mother's having as many kids out of wedlock as they could so they could get that big check. I could go on and on with facts about how the Democratic Party wanted to hold the Black race down, from forming the KKK to the entitlements of today. A good book on this is David Barton's "American History in Black and White", it opened my eyes on a lot of things. But the Republican's aren't blameless either, they have no back bone to do their job, thus they have rendered themselves impotent.
3. Their parents. Why were they bored? They were left to themselves, no supervision, no guidance, left to do whatever they pleased. One parent even said that he knew his son couldn't have done this, even after the fact they refuse to parent, refuse to accept responsibility. They could have made them get a job, whether mowing lawns, carrying out groceries (one place in town still does that), to cleaning the side of the road. They could volunteer, they could practice sports, play a music instrument, work on a old car. A sister of one of them said it was the towns fault because there was nothing for them to do. I guess a free daycare for teens is what is needed, another entitlement.
It comes down to one fact that is rampant in our society today. We no longer fear the consequences. I'm not talking about going to jail or even the death penalty, but the fear of spending eternity in a hell where there will be eternal "weeping and gnashing of teeth". We have no idea just how much hell we would go through in hell. I could go on about the saving grace that is provided to us free of charge, paid for by Jesus Christ, but I'm sure you have heard it before. Let me just say, it is real, it is personal, and it makes life so much more fun and enjoyable.
Ok, rant done. I could fill a multi-volume set, but I'm sure you're bored already.
Blessing to you, may your life be fill with joy and laughter.
I guess that's what disturbs me most about the incident, a good man is gone from this world while three thugs live on, dancing at their booking, showing no remorse. Wannabe gangsters, wannabe tough guys. I wonder how tough they're going to be when Bubba wants them for his girlfriend in the Big House.
I've sat back and looked at how things have changed in my short life time. Gone is respect. Gone is courtesy. Gone are the values that grew this nation, faith, family and hard work. All replaced by the victim mentality. Now instead of working for something, it's perceived that it is all owed. Now instead of respecting others, it's how am I going to get what they've got. Now Dad is replaced with a welfare check and food stamps. Now God is replaced with worship of self and selfish desires.
What is the result? A good man gets gunned down for fun, because they were "bored". Countless lives changed because of a single act.
So who is responsible for these boys and others like them throughout the nation? I think there's blame enough to go around, but here are a few reasons that stand out to me......
1. National Black Leaders. To name a few names, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and even our President Obama. When a black youth was shot while attacking a man, they were on the news within hours if not minutes commending it. The silence after Chris' murder is deafening. Where are these race baiting men that have kept the Black community down now that a more heinous crime was committed by someone of their race? Is it not profitable to call for a march for justice for Chris? Did Chris look like the President's son if he had one? The result, generations that hate other races because they have been taught that those races "hold them down". The good examples of blacks that have succeeded is endless, from Oliver Cromwell who fought beside Washington in the Revolution, Fredrick Douglas who escaped slavery and worked with Lincoln on the Emancipation Proclamation, in the earlier years of our country, one of the Speaker of the House was a black man, and on and on to this day when there are living examples like Clarence Thomas, Alan West and others who stepped out of the role of victim and exceeded, not letting that mentality hold them down.
2. Our Government. Particularly the Democrat Party. For decades, probably since, if not before, Woodrow Wilson, the Democrat's have been the party of entitlements. Win votes with freebies. The result, mother's having as many kids out of wedlock as they could so they could get that big check. I could go on and on with facts about how the Democratic Party wanted to hold the Black race down, from forming the KKK to the entitlements of today. A good book on this is David Barton's "American History in Black and White", it opened my eyes on a lot of things. But the Republican's aren't blameless either, they have no back bone to do their job, thus they have rendered themselves impotent.
3. Their parents. Why were they bored? They were left to themselves, no supervision, no guidance, left to do whatever they pleased. One parent even said that he knew his son couldn't have done this, even after the fact they refuse to parent, refuse to accept responsibility. They could have made them get a job, whether mowing lawns, carrying out groceries (one place in town still does that), to cleaning the side of the road. They could volunteer, they could practice sports, play a music instrument, work on a old car. A sister of one of them said it was the towns fault because there was nothing for them to do. I guess a free daycare for teens is what is needed, another entitlement.
It comes down to one fact that is rampant in our society today. We no longer fear the consequences. I'm not talking about going to jail or even the death penalty, but the fear of spending eternity in a hell where there will be eternal "weeping and gnashing of teeth". We have no idea just how much hell we would go through in hell. I could go on about the saving grace that is provided to us free of charge, paid for by Jesus Christ, but I'm sure you have heard it before. Let me just say, it is real, it is personal, and it makes life so much more fun and enjoyable.
Ok, rant done. I could fill a multi-volume set, but I'm sure you're bored already.
Blessing to you, may your life be fill with joy and laughter.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Memorial Day
She adjusted her pearls in the mirror as the sounds of her family
gathering below flowed over her like the smell of her favorite perfume.
It’s been so long since we’ve been together, she thought, now everyone
is home. She tugged at her blouse one last time and turned to go
downstairs to join the family. Standing in the door watching her was Jed
Delaney, her sweet Jed, her beloved husband of over thirty-five years.
“Martha, you look radiant as usual,” Jed said as he took her hand, “the gang’s all here, are you ready?”
“Yes, darling,” she said as she pecked him on the cheek. They descended the stairs into the front parlor, a crackling fire welcoming them.
At the bottom step waiting on them was their oldest son, Michael, who had arrived just a few moments before. Michael grabbed Martha and gave her a big bear hug, “Mom, it is so good to see you and dad, I’ve missed you so much.” Beside Michael was Jackie O, as they called her, a nice Irish girl named Jaclyn Katharine O’Reily before she became Michael’s bride and mother to their two sons, Matthew and Mark, and yes, they are working on Luke and John.
Mary Beth, the only daughter, sat in the overstuffed leather wing chair, looking like the princess she was. As her mother approached, she rose and they embraced, communicating as only a mother and daughter could. Mary Beth hooked her arms through Martha’s and they turned toward Ross.
Ross was the baby of the family and Martha mothered over him as he grew up. Often Martha refused to let him join in with his friends, “They’re such a rowdy bunch,” but Ross never really would mind as he knew Martha would make it up to him somehow, usually in the form of fresh baked cookies or pie. Martha walked over to Ross and adjusted his tie, “A man in uniform can’t have a crooked tie,” she said. “You look so handsome in your dress blues.” She reached down and put a letter in his hand. “You can read it later, it’s just mushy mom stuff.” She looked at Mary Beth and together they straightened the flag that draped Ross’ coffin, Martha looked back at Ross. “Welcome home baby boy, now the family is all together once again.”
“Martha, you look radiant as usual,” Jed said as he took her hand, “the gang’s all here, are you ready?”
“Yes, darling,” she said as she pecked him on the cheek. They descended the stairs into the front parlor, a crackling fire welcoming them.
At the bottom step waiting on them was their oldest son, Michael, who had arrived just a few moments before. Michael grabbed Martha and gave her a big bear hug, “Mom, it is so good to see you and dad, I’ve missed you so much.” Beside Michael was Jackie O, as they called her, a nice Irish girl named Jaclyn Katharine O’Reily before she became Michael’s bride and mother to their two sons, Matthew and Mark, and yes, they are working on Luke and John.
Mary Beth, the only daughter, sat in the overstuffed leather wing chair, looking like the princess she was. As her mother approached, she rose and they embraced, communicating as only a mother and daughter could. Mary Beth hooked her arms through Martha’s and they turned toward Ross.
Ross was the baby of the family and Martha mothered over him as he grew up. Often Martha refused to let him join in with his friends, “They’re such a rowdy bunch,” but Ross never really would mind as he knew Martha would make it up to him somehow, usually in the form of fresh baked cookies or pie. Martha walked over to Ross and adjusted his tie, “A man in uniform can’t have a crooked tie,” she said. “You look so handsome in your dress blues.” She reached down and put a letter in his hand. “You can read it later, it’s just mushy mom stuff.” She looked at Mary Beth and together they straightened the flag that draped Ross’ coffin, Martha looked back at Ross. “Welcome home baby boy, now the family is all together once again.”
Friday, May 10, 2013
Why I Don't Write Poetry 2013-1
Haven't written in a while,
I've gone a few feet - even miles.
The muse really isn't much use,
A fragile thing easily beaten and bruised.
Waiting on it to inspire
To write words you'd admire,
But instead this is all I've gotten,
A missive, easily forgotten.
Still I hold out all hope,
That I don't sound like I'm smokin' dope.
Waiting on the words to come together,
Wound together like on a tether.
Instead all I get is tripe,
But really, who am I to gripe?
At least I've gotten a tickle,
From that muse, so temperamental, so fickle.
I've gone a few feet - even miles.
The muse really isn't much use,
A fragile thing easily beaten and bruised.
Waiting on it to inspire
To write words you'd admire,
But instead this is all I've gotten,
A missive, easily forgotten.
Still I hold out all hope,
That I don't sound like I'm smokin' dope.
Waiting on the words to come together,
Wound together like on a tether.
Instead all I get is tripe,
But really, who am I to gripe?
At least I've gotten a tickle,
From that muse, so temperamental, so fickle.
Monday, February 4, 2013
An Imagined Love Story
I don't know if you remember the time, I think we were nineteen or twenty, and we spent a week at Marco Island on the beach? I remember watching you as you laid there, memorizing every curve of your body, loving every strain of hair blowing in the salty breeze. Man, you drove me crazy with desire, crazy wanting to feel every inch of that sun tan lotioned body, crazy wanting to hold you close next to me.
Remember it was that time that we were walking on the sidewalk along the beach, you in your yellow bikini, and that mail truck ran into the parked UPS van as the driver was ogling you. That was funny then, that is funny even now. I loved that yellow bikini, and I guess the mailman did too.
Those were good days, young and so alive, but now, now we are in our great days. Maybe it's because our years are getting shorter, we're in what Frank called the autumn of our life, that makes us appreciate our days more now. I don't know, don't care as long as you are walking beside me. Why you ask? Because you still drive me crazy with desire, I still want to feel every inch of your body. Yeah, I'm still crazy after all these years, all because of you.
Remember it was that time that we were walking on the sidewalk along the beach, you in your yellow bikini, and that mail truck ran into the parked UPS van as the driver was ogling you. That was funny then, that is funny even now. I loved that yellow bikini, and I guess the mailman did too.
Those were good days, young and so alive, but now, now we are in our great days. Maybe it's because our years are getting shorter, we're in what Frank called the autumn of our life, that makes us appreciate our days more now. I don't know, don't care as long as you are walking beside me. Why you ask? Because you still drive me crazy with desire, I still want to feel every inch of your body. Yeah, I'm still crazy after all these years, all because of you.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Happy New Year -Why I don't write poetry
Another year has passed
Lots of good happened
And some things I couldn't grasp.
Laughs, tears, many emotions
Many Highs and many lows
Like waves on the ocean.
The new year, yet untried
Will fall on us like a rock
With blessings undefined.
Grab it and hold on tight,
May your smiles be wide and many.
Always doing what is right
And thanking Him whom gives life
Friday, December 21, 2012
A Recycled Christmas Story
From A Shepherd's Eyes
We had just settled down on top of the hill to eat our meal when suddenly the sky was brighter than day. We fell on our faces afraid of what was happening when we heard this beautiful voice that said, “Do not be afraid, I bring you the most joyful news ever announced, and it is for everyone! The Savior, yes the Messiah, the Lord, has been born tonight in Bethlehem. How will you know Him? You will find a baby wrapped in a blanket, lying in a manger.”
That’s when the most amazing thing happened, the angel was joined by a multitude of heavenly host and they were singing praising God, and they were picked us to give this message to. We three lowly shepherds, were given the message of the good news.
Needless to say we forgot all about our five fish and two loaves of bread. I said, “Lets get to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see this amazing thing the Lord has told us about.” So off we went, leaving sheep and cloak behind, we ran as fast as these old feet would go.
We entered the town and asked a couple of men if they saw what we saw and they looked at us like we were sick in the head. So we started looking on our own. We were going down Ceasar Avenue when Thaddeus shouted, “There’s a stable behind this inn, should we check out it’s manger?”
“Yes!” I yelled, “Lets not leave a manger unturned until we find Him.”
We ran to the stable and was met at the door by a man. We told him of what the angel told us and how the choir sang for us.He was smiling as he said, “I know your angel, he spoke to me a few months ago. Hallelujah, God’s promise is true. I am Joseph, husband of Mary who is mother of Jesus. Come, see God’s blessing.”
We slowly walked in, amongest the cows and donkeys, Mary sat on a pile of hay with this newly born baby in her arms. She seemed to glow, I guess it was the glow that every new mother has, but the baby, aw, the baby just radiated. He was so pure and innocent as He laid so quietly in His mother’s arms. I still get choked up just thinking about it.
Joseph walked up behind us and said, “His name is Jesus, God’s gift to all people.”
Mary looked up, “Just as He promised in the Law and Prophets. His name has to be Jesus, which means Savior.”
I suddenly realized how hard I was breathing. I don’t know if it was the running or the magnificence that we were in the presence of. I’ve had my own sons, but I didn’t feel like this at their birth. Something was different besides the appearance of the angels and the fact that He was born in a stable. My knees became weak, could this really be the Messiah? Could our salvation be before us?
Then something wonderful happened. The donkey that was standing behind the pile of hay, walked around to the mother and child. It looked at Mary and then at Joseph as if it were asking permission, it then stretched his neck out and softly touched his mussel to the child on His cheek. It backed away and returned to where it was munching on the hay.
Thaddeus, whom you know is the smartest one of our family, he fell to his knees and bowed his head. Daniel and I then also knelt in awe of this baby.
Mary spoke, “Oh, how I praise the Lord. How I rejoice in God my Savior! For He took notice of his lowly servant girl, and now generation after generation forever shall call me blest of God. For He, the mighty Holy One, has done great things to me. His mercy goes on from generation to generation, to all who reverence Him. How powerful is His mighty arm! How He scatters the proud and haughty ones! He has torn princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly. He has satisfied the hungry hearts and sent the rich away with empty hands. And how he has helped his servant Israel! He has not forgotten His promise to be merciful. For He promised our fathers, Abraham and his children, to be merciful to them forever.”
How do you respond to someone that speaks so? All I could think to say was “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” I guess that was appropriate, it just seemed pitiful after the blessing that Mary gave. Sometimes silence is truly golden. We bowed before the child and bid our farewells as we had to get back to the sheep. Now you little ones know how sheep are, without their shepherd to keep them together and protect them, they usually scatter and are prey to animals stalking about. When we returned to the herd, they were as we left them, eating peacefully, full and content. Another miracle in a night of miracles.
Daniel, Thaddeus and I sat down and picked up the meal we left behind. We talked of the angel and the things we saw that night. We told it over and over as we didn’t want to forget any of it, I knew one day I would be telling my grandchildren about it.
Eight days later, Thaddeus and I went to the temple to pray. We met cousin Simeon outside the gate. He was in a hurry, it seems the Holy Spirit had told him to get to the temple, that his prayer had been answered. Remember that Simeon was told by the Holy Spirit that He wouldn’t die before he saw God’s anointed King.
We were following him and up ahead they were performing the circumcision ceremony. There stood Mary and Joseph, the couple with the child in the stable. I started towards them but Simeon beat me there, he moved pretty fast for an old man. He took the child in his arms and started praising God. “Lord, Now I can die content! For I have seen Him as you promised me I would. I have seen the Savior you have given to the world. He is the Light that will shine upon the nations, and He will be the glory of your people Israel.”
Mary and Joseph stood there with their mouths open, marveling at what Simeon was saying about Jesus. Simeon then spoke blessings over them, but he turned to Mary and said, “A sword shall pierce your soul, for this child shall be rejected by many in Israel, and this to their undoing. But He will be the greatest joy of many others. And the deepest thoughts of many hearts shall be revealed.” He handed Jesus back to Mary and turned and left, with the biggest smile over his face.
I was standing there looking at them, I was a little amazed at Simeon myself. Joseph looked at me and smiled, nodding his head in remembrance of that beautiful night. Before I could acknowledge him, a prophetess walked up to them.
Every time I went to the temple I saw the prophetess Anna there, She came up as Simeon was walking off and she also started praising God, and telling everyone that the Messiah had finally arrived. Did you hear that children, the Messiah had finally arrived.
I was still trying to process all this. Why did the Messiah come to a poor couple? Why was he born in the most dirty, worthless part of Bethlehem? Why did the angels come to lowly shepherds? I didn’t know, I still don’t know, but it must have been God’s plan from the beginning. I was always told in the synagogue that the Messiah would come riding a white horse, delivering Israel from our oppressors. This child didn’t look like a warrior.
Several years later, I was standing in the field close to the road. It was another one of those glorious days that make you are glad to be alive. I stood there with staff in hand letting the warm sun soak into my face when I hear a commotion. Along the road came a whole group of people. All of them trying to get a man’s attention, they were yelling His name, “Jesus, over here.” “Jesus, tell us a story.” “Jesus, perform a miracle.” The crowd quieted and a man walked through them, it was Jairus the leader of our synagogue.
He fell to his knees in front of Jesus and said something to him that I couldn’t hear. It must have been important for Jairus to bow before a common traveling preacher. But that was when a memory came flooding back into my mind, of a night when I knelt before a baby in Bethlehem, and yes, oh yes His name was Jesus. The angel said He was the Messiah. There before me was standing the Messiah.
I dropped my staff and run toward the crowd, I had to tell Him my story, of how I had been there just after His birth. As I neared, Jesus stopped suddenly and turned. I could plainly hear His voice, “Who touched me?” A crying woman admitted that she had, and then Jesus said the most amazing thing, “Woman, your faith has healed you, go in Peace.” As I stood there He had healed that woman. This was no normal man, this had to be the Messiah.
I heard stories from time to time about this prophet that was healing people around the countryside, and about the wonderful words that He spoke about God’s kingdom. All this time I was wondering when He would mount that white Stallion and free us from our bondage. Then I heard the news that they had crucified Him. The priest had Him killed because His message convicted them. I thought, well, that is that. Maybe Jesus was the forerunner of the Messiah and the Messiah was yet to come.
Then a man stopped by while I was beside that same road where I had seen Jesus. He asked if I had heard of Jesus and I said “Yes I had.” I then proceeded to tell him my story of the Angel and Simeon and even what I saw on that same road. He then told me what he had seen.
“They tried, convicted and hung Him on the cross. After three days He rose again from the dead, I saw His empty tomb. He then appeared to us again and taught us and told us to spread His Good News throughout the world. He was the Messiah, He saved us from our sins. He is God’s perfect lamb, sacrificed for us who could never pay the price for our salvation. He is whom He said He is, and He wants you to join Him in Heaven where together, you will worship the Holy Father God. Salvation is a gift for you from Jesus the Christ, all you have to do is accept it, accept Him as the Messiah.”
It all became clear to me then, the Holy Spirit cleared my mind and I saw God’s deliverance. I saw that the Messiah wasn’t sent to save us from Rome or our oppressor’s, He was sent to save me from me and my sins.
So there you have it, little ones, the story of a baby born to save us. One day, maybe this day, you will have to decide for yourself if you want to follow Jesus. May my life be a gift to you, an example of listening and following the Chosen One, The Bright and Morning Star. Now go play, your Grandmother and I have a feast to prepare.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
A Stable?
It was a stable. A dirty stable filled with animals and all the things
associated with them. Cow patties, donkey dung, sheep sh--well, you get
the idea. What a place for the Savior of the world to be born.
But that was the plan, a plan that was put in motion all the way back when Adam and Eve ate the apple. A lot of water had passed under that bridge between Adam and the stable. Prophetic promises answered, the King of Kings, the Bright and Morning Star, the Messiah was born. Born in a dirty and stinky mess, to save us from our mess.
Merry Christmas, may the One we celebrate this season bless you this coming year.
But that was the plan, a plan that was put in motion all the way back when Adam and Eve ate the apple. A lot of water had passed under that bridge between Adam and the stable. Prophetic promises answered, the King of Kings, the Bright and Morning Star, the Messiah was born. Born in a dirty and stinky mess, to save us from our mess.
Merry Christmas, may the One we celebrate this season bless you this coming year.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
This is one of my favorite poems I've written, so I'm recycling it. Enjoy.
Christmas Poem
I look in the mirror
And what do I see?
That Santa’s my daddy
It just has to be.
Our hair is white
And so is our beard
We look so much alike
That it’s really weird.
Our belly’s will bounce
Like a bowl of full of jello,
We both like to laugh
Are jolly good fellows
We’re cranially challenged
Our heads big and round.
We’re known to be different
We continually confound.
We do have our differences
A few I do see.
You Ho Ho Ho
One’s enough for me.
I admire the color blue
Red’s kinda scary.
The white fur trim, I feel
Makes you look like a fairy.
So dear Santa
I think you can see
Why I think you’re my dad
Do you believe little ole me?
And what do I see?
That Santa’s my daddy
It just has to be.
Our hair is white
And so is our beard
We look so much alike
That it’s really weird.
Our belly’s will bounce
Like a bowl of full of jello,
We both like to laugh
Are jolly good fellows
We’re cranially challenged
Our heads big and round.
We’re known to be different
We continually confound.
We do have our differences
A few I do see.
You Ho Ho Ho
One’s enough for me.
I admire the color blue
Red’s kinda scary.
The white fur trim, I feel
Makes you look like a fairy.
So dear Santa
I think you can see
Why I think you’re my dad
Do you believe little ole me?
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Christmas Musings
The Christmas story is unique, it is intriguing, it baffles me. Why would God come down in human form to give us a way to spend eternity with Him? Why would he come as a child and not as a king. He came and they didn't or wouldn't believe that He was indeed the Messiah.
Mary did you know that your baby boy would some day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.
Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.
Do we today believe? That is what we have to decide. The Bible is full of Witness that Jesus was indeed whom He said He was. (See John 5: 31-47). Today His church is to be His witness but do even they realize who He really is?
"This is how MUCH God LOVED the world. He gave His Son, His one and only Son." (John 3:16 out of the Message translation). Do we really realize what that baby boy really means to humanity?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when your kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.
Mary did you know that your baby boy would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when your kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.
This song tells of the miracles or works that Jesus did during His short life. Back in John 5:36, Jesus tells us why he performs miracles, "...for the works which the Father has given Me to accomplish-the very works that I do-testify about Me, that the Father sent me. The religious leaders of that day couldn't see the miracles as miracles, but as threats to their positions. Today miracles happen around us all the time, and we fail to notice them too.
Oh Mary did you know
The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will walk again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb
The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will walk again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb
I wonder sometimes, as this song implies, if Mary really knew whom her Child was. Sure an angel appeared to her and all, but later she, with all of Jesus brothers and sisters, comes to where he is teaching and healing people and tries to get Him to come home, they seemed embarrassed, which caused Jesus to say "Who is my brother, sister, or mother? Those who do the Father's will" (my paraphrase). Mary did you really know? My favorite phrase of the song is "This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you." Honor goes to Mary for obeying God at His Word.
Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am
Preacher said this weekend that there are 2500 prophecies' in the Bible and that 2000 of them have come to pass exactly as predicted. The ones left are "end times" prophecies' and no doubt, they will come true also. So just like predicted, Jesus the Messiah came and provided us a way to eternity in Heaven. So as predicted, He will return, return to completely conquer sin. Come quickly Lord Jesus.
Thanks to Mark Lowry for writing such a great son as "Mary Did You Know"
Friday, September 14, 2012
I Have To Rant
I'm going to get political, and it may make you mad at me, but I have to get this off my chest. First, let me say that I'm a registered Republican, but I don't vote a straight ticket. I have probably voted for as many Democrats as I have Republican, but I probably won't again. Here's a list why....
1. I'm tired of being called a racist. Just because I'm conservative and a Republican, I'm automatically a racist. I can't criticize the White House because I be called a racist. A little fact folks, in 1866 in a move to get back some political clout, the Democratic national party started a little group to try an intimidate voting. That little group is known as the KKK. If you don't believe me, read the thirteen volume set of congressional investigations from 1872 that documents that fact. According to these facts, what party is racist? Democratic. What party freed this nation of slavery? Republican. It wasn't until Martin Luther King (who by the way was Republican) did the blacks regain what they had before 1872.
2. I'm tired of being labeled as waging a war on women. This makes me laugh it's so absurd. Who wages war on women? Ask Sarah Palin who has been called everything, whose children has been called everything. Ask Michele Bachmann, Michelle Malkin, Lauren Ingraham, Ann Coulter and others what they have been threaten with, what vile names they have been called, etc, etc, etc. Rush called Sandra Fluke a "slut" and he was vilified for days. Bill Maher calls some of these women much worse and not a peep out of the same ones that pushed for Rush to be hauled into jail. It also funny that one of their talking points is that Romney would set back wages for women when the White House and Nancy Pelosi don't have equal pay for the women on their own staffs. What party really has a war on women?
3. I honestly don't see what people see in our President. He is AWOL the majority of the time. Honestly, why would he go to Vegas for a campaign stop when our embassy is being attacked? I don't understand that. His record for attending the security briefings is, I heard, between 35-50%. Maybe if he would do his job, our Ambassador may still be alive. On the economy, the old blame Bush excuse don't float. We had a recovery in 2009 that drew us out of our recession, but his Cash for Clunkers and other bail-outs killed that and sunk us into a new low, depression low. Clinton said that the President inherited an economy that couldn't be turned around in four years. Really, check our history Bubba, Reagan inherited an economy that was much worst from Jimma Carter and turned it around in three years. There is no sign of recovery, there won't be as long as factors such as Obama care and being regulated out the yenyang continue. I guess there's time for golf, vacations and having dinners with celebs, but no time for leading our country.
4. I'm tired of apologies. Why do we apologize to those that attack us? I can't fathom it. Here is where we need leadership, someone with backbone.
5. I won't vote Democrat because of their stance on religious issues. Removing God from their platform and then adding it (the vote failed but the leadership passed it anyway) back in. They push abortion on the church through Obamacare, we "cling to our Bibles and guns", push gay marriage on us, and on and on. Whether you want to believe it or not, this country was founded on Christian beliefs, don't believe me, read the writings of our Founding Fathers, it's very evident there.
I could rant on and on but I'm growing tired and the "House of Payne" is on and I need a good laugh. I will close with this, this is the first time that I've been scared for our future. It's a time in our history that depending on the next few months, we may not recover from. "Land of the Brave and Home of the Free" may soon be shortened to "Land of the Brave". All I can say is, pray hard, His grace is all we have.
1. I'm tired of being called a racist. Just because I'm conservative and a Republican, I'm automatically a racist. I can't criticize the White House because I be called a racist. A little fact folks, in 1866 in a move to get back some political clout, the Democratic national party started a little group to try an intimidate voting. That little group is known as the KKK. If you don't believe me, read the thirteen volume set of congressional investigations from 1872 that documents that fact. According to these facts, what party is racist? Democratic. What party freed this nation of slavery? Republican. It wasn't until Martin Luther King (who by the way was Republican) did the blacks regain what they had before 1872.
2. I'm tired of being labeled as waging a war on women. This makes me laugh it's so absurd. Who wages war on women? Ask Sarah Palin who has been called everything, whose children has been called everything. Ask Michele Bachmann, Michelle Malkin, Lauren Ingraham, Ann Coulter and others what they have been threaten with, what vile names they have been called, etc, etc, etc. Rush called Sandra Fluke a "slut" and he was vilified for days. Bill Maher calls some of these women much worse and not a peep out of the same ones that pushed for Rush to be hauled into jail. It also funny that one of their talking points is that Romney would set back wages for women when the White House and Nancy Pelosi don't have equal pay for the women on their own staffs. What party really has a war on women?
3. I honestly don't see what people see in our President. He is AWOL the majority of the time. Honestly, why would he go to Vegas for a campaign stop when our embassy is being attacked? I don't understand that. His record for attending the security briefings is, I heard, between 35-50%. Maybe if he would do his job, our Ambassador may still be alive. On the economy, the old blame Bush excuse don't float. We had a recovery in 2009 that drew us out of our recession, but his Cash for Clunkers and other bail-outs killed that and sunk us into a new low, depression low. Clinton said that the President inherited an economy that couldn't be turned around in four years. Really, check our history Bubba, Reagan inherited an economy that was much worst from Jimma Carter and turned it around in three years. There is no sign of recovery, there won't be as long as factors such as Obama care and being regulated out the yenyang continue. I guess there's time for golf, vacations and having dinners with celebs, but no time for leading our country.
4. I'm tired of apologies. Why do we apologize to those that attack us? I can't fathom it. Here is where we need leadership, someone with backbone.
5. I won't vote Democrat because of their stance on religious issues. Removing God from their platform and then adding it (the vote failed but the leadership passed it anyway) back in. They push abortion on the church through Obamacare, we "cling to our Bibles and guns", push gay marriage on us, and on and on. Whether you want to believe it or not, this country was founded on Christian beliefs, don't believe me, read the writings of our Founding Fathers, it's very evident there.
I could rant on and on but I'm growing tired and the "House of Payne" is on and I need a good laugh. I will close with this, this is the first time that I've been scared for our future. It's a time in our history that depending on the next few months, we may not recover from. "Land of the Brave and Home of the Free" may soon be shortened to "Land of the Brave". All I can say is, pray hard, His grace is all we have.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Where Were You?
Thanks to Alan Jackson,
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the site of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky
Did you shout out in anger
In fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry
Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below
Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Teaching a class full of innocent children
Driving down some cold interstate
Did you feel guilty cause you're a survivor
In a crowded room did you feel alone
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her
Did you dust off that bible at home
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened
Close your eyes and not go to sleep
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages
Speak with some stranger on the street
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow
Go out and buy you a gun
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger
Stand in line and give your own blood
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
Thank God you had somebody to love
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
The greatest is love
The greatest is love
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the site of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky
Did you shout out in anger
In fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry
Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below
Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
Teaching a class full of innocent children
Driving down some cold interstate
Did you feel guilty cause you're a survivor
In a crowded room did you feel alone
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her
Did you dust off that bible at home
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened
Close your eyes and not go to sleep
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages
Speak with some stranger on the street
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow
Go out and buy you a gun
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger
Stand in line and give your own blood
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
Thank God you had somebody to love
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love
The greatest is love
The greatest is love
Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day
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