Quote of the Day

The family seems to have two predominant functions: to provide warmth and love in time of need and to drive each other insane.

-- Donald G. Smith

My Failure as an Eco Reader

I've been listening to a lot of books on CD of late. And in the true spirit of Eco Reading, I've been utilizing the public library. I've found that:

a) I'm able to check out new authors without investing in valuable and treasured reading time.

b) I like listening to speaking voices more than I like listening to the music on the radio.

c) And more to the point of this post, no trees were injured in the making of the CD.

However...

when I find a book I like, I wind up making unnecessary trips just to progress further in the book.

Yesterday, I went for a 60 mile drive in order to finish listening to Michael Connelly's "The Overlook" (the first but not the last of his books that I will listen to/read, btw) - greenhouse gases be damned. Not to mention that at the current price of gas, it would have been cheaper to buy the paperback.

Question

Is it better to take the easy way, or take the hard way and fail?

Quote of the Day

A single conversation across the table with a wise man is worth a month's study of books." Chinese Proverb

My Feeble (but Sincere) Attempt at Haiku

Dedicated to A.G.

Cool air Warm conversation A break in the clouds

Why a Bird???

Why did Emily Dickinson describe hope as a bird?

Birds fly away...unless it's a flamingo or an emu. But I don't think flamingos or emus sing a sweet song as the birds of flight. And I don't like the idea that hope can easily flit away.

So why a bird???

I'm in a Sore Storm

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me

-Emily Dickinson

Isaac & Ishmael

When God does His thing, I get Isaac. When I take matters in to my own hands, I get Ishmael. That is why I struggle through each day...I hold out hope for Isaac. But the struggles are exhausting me and it's getting more tempting everyday to settle for Ishmael.

Does Such a Humble Poet Exist?

The Day Is Done

The day is done, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of night,

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me

That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,

That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,

Some simple and heartfelt lay,

That shall soothe this restless feeling,

And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,

Not from the bards sublime,

Whose distant footsteps echo

Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,

Their mighty thoughts suggest

Life's endless toil and endeavor;

And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,

Whose songs gushed from his heart,

As showers from the clouds of summer,

Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,

And nights devoid of ease,

Still heard in his soul the music

Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet.

The restless pulse of care,

And come like the benediction

That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume

The poem of thy choice,

And lend to the rhyme of the poet

The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music

And the cares, that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Haute Couture

"A mutt is couture - it's the only one like it in the world, made especially for you."

Isaac Mizrahi

Providence and Chocolate Drop Cookies

Growing up, my favorite cookie to bake and to eat was a Chocolate Drop Cookie (with chocolate frosting). I think the recipe came from someone in my sister, Jean's Girl Scout Troop. These cookies were "cakey" cookies. Very rich. They froze well, which qualified them as Christmas cookie-worthy. And they tasted good frozen, which caused my mother much grief as her children raided the freezer in the days leading up to Christmas.

Somehow, the recipe was lost, never to be found again until about 1999. I purchased a new cookbook which contained a recipe very similar (but not exactly) to the Chocolate Drop cookies of my past.

Last evening, I was participating in a Cookie Exchange and I wanted to make these Chocolate Drop Cookies. True to form, I didn't try to bake the cookies until the night before. When I went to the bookshelf for the cookbook, I couldn't find it. I was scrambling through the house searching everywhere and couldn't find it. What I did find, however, was my 37 year old, hand-transcribed Sunbonnet Sue Recipe book with the original Chocolate Drop Cookie recipe.

I was madly praying for the substitute recipe and God answered with the better-than-substitute, original recipe.

There have been a number of instances like this in 2008.

About 2 years ago, I was wanting a new car, something more in keeping with the image I wanted to project - a small SUV. The key word here is wanting, not needing. My car (a '99 Taurus) was in good shape, reliable, and most importantly, paid for. I prayed, decided it wasn't a good time to buy a car and put those thoughts aside.

Last year at this time, I was in a minor car accident - no injuries, just some front-end body damage. But the repair costs exceed the value of the 10 year old Ford Taurus so the insurance company totalled the vehicle. Suddenly the car I wanted, became the car I needed. And at a decent price, I might add. And so I'm no longer driving a middle-aged person's dark green sedan with only a tape deck and (gasp) required KEYS to unlock the doors. Now I'm in a young person's Blazing Copper (ok - burnt orange) Ford Escape, equipped with a 6-disc CD player. And I no longer have to use KEYS to unlock the doors.

In December of 2000, I drove through a snowstorm from Erie to Findlay Lake, NY to buy myself a $75 dollar hat. Frivolous though this might seem, I'd fallen in love with the hat 12 months before and decided that would be my gift to myself when I lost 100 pounds. The very week I hit that goal, I was on the road to Findlay Lake, praying the whole trip - not for safe passage, but that the hat would still be there after all those months. The hat was there, and it looked even better on me than I remembered.

Fast forward to 2005. Each spring, I would store the hat in an old, beat up hat box I'd bought at a garage sale. The hat and the box combined were pretty light. I remember that around the fall of 2005, I went on a mad cleaning spree through my spare bedroom. I looked at the ragged hat box and thought why am I keeping this? So I threw it away. Remember, the weight of box + hat was not much. It was easy to mistake the hat box as empty. Then, come that winter when I couldn't find the hat, I realized what I'd done. It still ate at me that I'd lost the hat because of my own stupidity. I chastised myself over my disorganization. Months ago I prayed that I'd get over that silly mistake. Then in Oct/Nov of this year I was in my attic. Sitting out prominently was the hat box. I picked it up and it felt very light so I really didn't expect to find the hat inside. But it was there!

In each of these instances, I did the right thing - I prayed. My prayers were really unselfish and not outrageous. I prayed what made sense to me - please find the cookbook, help me be satisfied with my car, help me get over the loss of the hat and not be so upset over something so inconsequential...and in each instance God answered my prayers - in ways I didn't expect. If God had answered my prayers as I had prayed them, I might have been satisfied, but He was gracious enough to share His magnificence with me and exceeded my expectations.

So if you catch of glimpse of me driving down the road in my Blazing Copper (ok - burnt orange) Ford Escape, wearing my Cranberry colored hat with the rose pin, munching on Chocolate Drop Cookies, whether you realize it or not, you're also catching a glimpse of God's grandeur.

All Dogs Go to Heaven

"Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in." - Mark Twain

My Rusty Armor

When the slings and arrows of sins against me become to painful for me to bear, I find I start to build a wall. It's built with bricks of anger and resentment and held together with mortar of indignation.

This wall may seem to provide protection, but it is in fact a prison where no nourishment or reinforcements can enter. And it's protective value is only temporary as the walls eventually crumble under the continual onslaught.

Funny thing, tossed off to the side unused and rusting is a Suit of Armor custom built for me and purchased with the blood of Jesus.

My King, please renew the armor for me. Scrape off the rust, oil its hinges and polish it to a heavenly gleam. I am unskilled in it's use; it seems heavy and awkward. In my untrained hands, it seems as if the wall would be safer. Please, my King teach me how to use it effectively until such time the war is over and it can be retired.

Thy Word I Have Hidden In My Heart...

...that I might not sin against Thee. (Ps 119:11). Problem is, I hid the wrong Words. I hid the "thou shalt nots" instead of the "HE wills". I know all the things I'm supposed to do, but weak on the things HE says HE does. This is just as (if not more) sinful against Him. Fortunately, He is merciful. I hid those words, but too often I hid them too well and can't find them easily. But the "thou shalt nots" are in plain view. Of course, my immediate reaction is that I need to better "organize" the Word so I can find what I need when I need them. Again, the emphasis on the I - "thou shalt file God's Word in thy heart in such a way it can be retrieved within 30 seconds of when thou needs it" - forgetting "In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words". Wonderful Counselor, Author and Finisher of our faith, Advocate...to these I add my own paltry contribution - Most Wise and Able File Clerk.

Message from Dog

When Grace (the dog) first came to live with me, she was withdrawn. She'd been abused and abandoned and did not trust me. She hung back and didn't interact with me very much. It took a few weeks of reliable feedings, a lot of affection, and some discipline before her true (graceful) personality came out.

I remember the moment I knew she'd reached the turning point. She did something wrong and I gave her a stern "No". Instead of fearfully slinking away, she walked to her crate, plopped down with with a "Hrmph" and then started muttering under her breath. I'm not sure what she was saying, but I think it was some sort of canine complaining.

Dora was also abandoned and abused. When she was delivered to my home, she had to be carried in, fighting to get away the entire trip down the sidewalk and up the front steps. She definitely had trust issues. With plenty of patient love and regular feedings, she eventually didn't distrust me. I use those words deliberately, because she didn't' trust me, either.

Just from her expressions (yes, dogs have them) I knew she was a dog that longed for affection; she was the type of dog that would love to cuddle.

I'm not ashamed to admit my dogs sleep with me (I owe the Peoria Pair another 14 Things). Once Dora collected enough courage to climb in bed with Grace and I, she laid on top of the blankets; yet, I sensed she was a "burrower". I knew she'd love to climb under a load of blankets and nestle beside me, if she could get past her fear. I think the reason she didn't though was because she was afraid of being trapped.

It took a long time, but I knew she'd successfully navigated a crossroads when she started climbing under the blankets. She trusted me to protect for her in case the boogie man came after her some night.

I see parallels between the dogs' relationship with me and my relationship with God. Like Grace, when I'm disciplined I slink back in fear. Like Dora, I crave the affection and cuddling He offers, but I don't trust Him enough to believe He will protect me; I think I have to take care of myself.

I love Grace and Dora and because of this love - MY love for them - I've seen them grow; I've seen their true, sweet personalities emerge and had the gift of their affection returned. As I observe their growth, I believe there is hope for me, because God's love for me is much greater than the love I can ever have for my dogs. There will be a time when I will not slink back in fear when disciplined. I'll be able to go about my life without looking over my shoulder planning how to defend myself against some attack, because I know my (very strong) Father is watching over me. I'll be able to rest peacefully in His embrace.

Until that time, however, I have to be content with the true hope that I'm making progress, slow as it may be.

Odd Sighting of the Day

I was walking through the lobby of the hospital (Hamot) when I saw on TV Martha Stewart cooking mashed potatoes with...Snoop Dogg. I was (and still am) flabbergasted.

My Life as a Pincushion

I have a relatively easy life. No life threatening situations stabbing me. No horrible crises piercing me like arrows. My daily troubles are pin pricks, in comparison. But there are so many pins aimed my way. It seems everywhere I turn there's another pin pointed directly at my soul. Some of these pins are larger and wound deeper than others and inflict more pain. Though none produce deadly blood loss, I am weakened by "tear loss". The stabs and jabs hurt me, distract me, confuse and disorient me. Sometimes I think it would be easier to face a guillotine once than to face thousands of little needles each day.

He Knows if You've Been XXX or Good

I remember a time when my father took me to the local catholic school to register me for first grade. The teacher had all the children draw a picture. To this day, over 40 years later, I remember the picture I drew. I was on earth doing something or another and in heaven there were angels keeping track of what I did. They were tallying up my good deeds and my bad. I even remember that the number of tick marks in the "good" column outnumbered the bad.

Knowing all I do about salvation, redemption, etc; despite all the sermons I've heard and books I've read, I still live my life as if this picture were true. I live with this nagging fear that the numbers won't add up in my favor.

I've been a list maker for as long as I can remember (even back in kindergarten) and I've rarely finished the items on my lists. Perhaps, because I keep adding to them. I think, if I've completed all these tasks, then surely I must have missed something so I add more things to do. There's always something more I could have, should have done.

Upon reflection, I realize that old picture was only half right (and half wrong). My deeds have been tallied, but when I came to Jesus the "bad" list was destroyed. My "good" list may not be as long as it could/should have been, but who's is? And because of Jesus, the numbers always add up in my favor.

Amazing grace...I once was lost, but now only the list is.

Payday for Miss Barb

About 6-7 years ago, I was heading somewhere with the Barblings and their mom. We stopped for a quick dinner at the McDonald's drive-through, where Barbling #3 (age approx 3-4 years old) ordered her usual - a plain cheeseburger.

Unfortunately, McDonald's put pickles on the burger, which caused some turmoil. #3 asked her mother to remove the dreaded pickles from her burger, but Mom had to decline, as driving the van was a higher priority, at the time.

I told #3 I would help her in her time of need. As she handed the stricken patty to me, she said "Miss Barb, I'll pay you a penny to take off my pickles. A penny and a kiss."

It was the best paying job I've ever had!

Unfit for Duty

If the joy of the Lord is my strength, then my joy is pretty flabby and out of shape. But what fitness regimen is there for joy?

Unlike the body, I can't force joy exercises upon myself. Contriving it just makes things worse. There are no joy vitamins to fortify my spirit and eating right doesn't nourish me emotionally. While many self-help gurus have joy DVDs to sell me, outlining their 10-Steps to Joy, they're of little use.

It seems there is nothing to DO to attain joy. Meanwhile I feel joy weakening by the minute.