Icy Day

Last week, the west pushed some ice our way that stuck for almost a day.

Before the trees from our Oak had a chance to fall, the ice kept them frozen in time.

Treecicles!

Carcicles

The dogs don't think about being cold, wet or dirty. They only think about playing.

 

 

 

One of my favourite views.



 

 

"Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak."

 

At the Crossroads

It was recommended that "Mystery of the Ages" be read every 6 months. I can't truthfully say that I have faithfully followed that recommendation, but my studies have finally led me to it once more. I've only made it through the Authors Statement, Preface, and Introduction, but I already see just why the recommendation! 

Mr. Armstrong briefly mentions a crossroads in his life--a fork in the road. At a crossroads, there isn't just one road anymore, but there also isn't more than 2. Left or right; that's it. As Christ plainly said, "He that is not with me is against me." It's at this crossroad that you see how you have been living, and how you should be living. It's not just seeing that you've been breaking the Sabbath all these years, but you've been breaking every other commandment too! You see that your way of living has been wrong! Yes, you've not only been partially wrong, but you are wrong to the tens! You have been so wrong, that you feel horrid. You feel rank. You feel disgusting. You feel ugly. You feel worthless. And that's when you realize that something can be done
about it! There are, after all, two roads. Two ways of life. Two trees. So there you are, standing at your crossroads, knowing that a conscious decision must be made. It only takes one decision to change the course, but it doesn't stop there. It really means making those decisions for the remainder of your life. God makes it plain that He would rather someone be on fire for Him, or completely against Him. God says those who dabble, those who are half-hearted, those who keep parts of the law but not all of it, those who compromise with the law, "because you are lukewarm and not cold or hot, I will spit you out of My mouth." So, you're either all in, or all out.

 Mr. Armstrong continues in his book:

"I came to realize that accepting God's truth meant

FORSAKING THIS WORLD."...

"This surrender to God...this

GIVING UP OF THE WORLD...WAS THE ONLY MEDICINE

IN ALL MY LIFE THAT EVER BROUGHT A HEALING!...

I was finding

JOY

beyond words in this

TOTAL DEFEAT."

Can it be? Can giving up this world really bring healing? And can there really be joy in this defeat? Mr. Armstrong also said that this surrender and defeat was "the most bitter pill I ever swallowed." So, it will hurt more than anything, but isn't that worth the MOST joy you'll ever experience?

Oh how I miss this book! It's been too long. Don't ever let me wait so long to be reminded of this precious truth, and the decision I made at my own crossroad. I am all in!

Selah...

I was reading an old blog post of mine ("Between a Rock and a Hard Place"), and it really took me back to those same emotions, the same feelings, the same heart rendering prayers, and the very lesson I learned at the time: the lesson of God's very presence in our lives. Simply, that GOD EXISTS.

Not only does God exist, but He makes it known. There are so many prophecies where God says "then you shall know that I am God." God wants our attention--and He will get it; and He might resort to smacking us over the head with a 2 x 4 if that's what it takes.

I can't tell you how many lessons are available to us through this trial. And oh what an opportunity to take hold and learn them! There's always going to be the question: WHY? And the more I think about it, the more I come to the same answer every time: Because I'm building my character in you, My child. I really think it's up to us to decide just how much we will let a trial like this teach us.

Taking the time to reflect on things--on the purpose of anything and everything--is perhaps one major lesson itself: To think. To consider. To ponder. Selah. To meditate on life's purpose. Every time, I'm taken back to the Source of life. The Creator and His plan. What is He doing? "Let all the earth fear the LORD: let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him," says the scripture. He is working and building something so amazing that would take our breath away should we truly understand it.

I've started noticing a pattern in life. There are times when you get a kick in the butt, when you have a sudden stare-in-the-face about what you need to be doing, or about what you need to stop doing, and you cry out to God, with real tears, and in the deepest emotion that you've never experienced before. You repent, and start afresh, believing God has forgiven you and is right by your side in your endeavors to a new and different path that you are finally ready to begin. And life is good because there is nothing sweeter than breaking through to God who showers His tender mercies over you. God just worked a miracle, lifting you from the depths of despair--yes, a miracle because even you couldn't have pulled yourself out. Only God. You have never been more grateful. You praise God. Without God, there is no worth, no value, no purpose for anything. You are on fire. On fire for God. You set new goals, along with your newly molded positive outlook, ready to work for God. Ready to give your life, once again, to God in everything you think, say, and especially do. You are ready to go to extremes for God, even if it means cutting off your right arm or plucking out your eye if they are holding you back. And your prayers, strong, bold, and full of His Holy Spirit are being answered right before your eyes.

You are in awe over God's incredible power that gives you strength and confidence. But what's this? A year later, two years later, whatever your time frame, somehow, life isn't so good anymore. You label it just "one of those" days. Nothing changes. You keep ignoring the "bad" feeling. You keep praying because you are duty bound. You keep studying because you know you're suppose to. You keep the Sabbath and go home feeling inspired. But somehow, the next Sabbath arrives and you don't remember what you were inspired about the week before. You suddenly realize you've been a whole week without prayer. You get on your knees to pray and struggle to find the words, the thoughts...anything? You just don't have free time to schedule a fast, and you excuse yourself because you're not in the right attitude anyway. Meditation? You justify "getting that in" on the drive to services.
You quit praying altogether because it's not effectual. They're not riveting prayers. You want back that strong relationship you had with God, but your prayers are not getting answered and you just can't seem to focus. You sit down to read and you can't even remember the sentence you just read. You stop trying. You take a week and then a month to shake this rut you're in. Suddenly, things seem familiar. You've been here before. You're back in the trenches of desperation. How did this happen? When did it start? The epiphany you need, or the major lesson to learn from it all is not so suddenly revealed just because you see there's a problem. It's only the beginning. And whatever that lesson is (I have found, many times it's the same lesson in times past--only to be understood more deeply), you are taken back to square one: repentance. Back to those real tears. Back to God. Somehow, despite the prayers and studying, the fasting and mediation, despite all your efforts, you got away from God and began relying on yourself; your efforts, your good deeds. You lost sight of God's goodness. Isn't this the lesson of Job? Living righteously, keeping God's commandments--yes, good things, but without the "Who Am I" attitude, it is in vain because it is only a man's effort. When will you learn? "Truly every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah." (Psalm 39:5)

God is so merciful and has ways of bringing us back to Him.  It's never as simple as God knocking on your door, or calling your phone to tell you, "here's the problem. Let's work on it." But perhaps all along, God does poke us, and He nudges, pushes, shoves, then finally, smacks us over the head to stop us in our tracks.

Is there one major answer to "why" this trial of ours? I don't know. But I do know, as I mentioned earlier, that there are many things to be gleaned from all this, and all to the glory of God. Selah.

 



One Degree

When two people are dating for marriage, one of the last things they might think about is the thermostat setting for the house. Not like it would be a deal-breaker (unless that's your thing!), but I remember talking about "Expectations" in marriage counseling, and this one never came up...

Everywhere we go, be it a hotel, our old home, even our new home, there is always that one degree difference from being comfortable or uncomfortable. Seriously, it's amazing the difference only one degree makes. Raise the thermostat one degree (75) and Sam starts to sweat profusely. Lower it one degree (74) and I'm walking around in a coat, scarf, and boots.You'd think it was a ten degree difference or something.

Occasionally, I might sneak the temperature up--just the one degree. It's like I keep thinking that one of these days, he won't notice. But so far he's noticed...every time. And I should probably put a stop to it because just last night, when I didn't even touch it he asked, "Have you been messing with the thermostat again!?" When I told him "no," he questioned me with his eyes. Zoiks! Does this mean he's getting hot? If he lowers it another degree, who's to say I won't die of pneumonia when stepping out of the shower? Or catch a cold because my immune system is frozen and unable to fight off those pesky pathogens? Best just give him his one degree and be happy it's not two!

 

Really, you'd think a person's body would adjust after five years. Maybe it'll take six. Until then, I'll grab another blanket, an extra pair of socks, and some gloves. 



 

The Only Constant is Change

...that's how Heraclitus put it anyway. Yet, while the "Weeping Philosopher" was referring to change in the universe, I am referring to our own mini universe here in Tennessee.

Five years of marriage now, and Sam and I are checking off still another "first" from our list: moving.

Sam drove...so I guess that makes me the bald one. :)

For the past several weeks, my mind has been in overdrive dealing with all those things that go along with moving. We had about 4 weeks notice to prepare for the move. In hindsight, that was a little too much time. For four weeks, I would walk through the house making a mental list of what needed to be done. I got some boxes out to get an early start on packing when I realized that there were so many things I couldn't pack because I needed them for the next four weeks. I was carrying around this mental checklist ALL the time! Of all the furniture we moved, that checklist was the heaviest. Sam may disagree--we've got an armoire that's been the cause of many bruises, scratches, and more.

But by the time I was finally able to pack everything, it was actually very liberating to get rid of STUFF that we'd been collecting because, well, you never know, this might come in handy one day; or "I haven't worn this since I bought it, but it's so cute I should wear it!" Most of it was stuff that because we had space in the basement, garage, closet (wherever!) why not keep it? I mean, ya just never know, right.

Instead of hiring movers, we braved the task alone (Bill Withers is ringing in my head right now). When under pressure or frustration, I tend to laugh. I don't know how to explain it, but when things take a turn for the worse, my first phase of release is laughter. This was frustrating for Sam--the scratches I left behind, along with my laughter, wasn't a laughing matter for him. It's almost as bad as cracking jokes while he's lifting 250 lbs of weight at the gym.

It's so nice to be on the other side of moving. We've moved already and almost everything has it's new place. Just the tedious things are left. But overall, I feel my life has been simplified. At any point, should I need to "up and go," I'm not held back by a bunch of stuff.

Instead of a mosquitoes dream for a backyard, we've actually got space to throw a baseball, set up a volleyball net, build a pool, kick the soccer ball around. The dogs love the yard too; they've made themselves right at home, digging holes, finding secret places for their bones, and hiding Mama's shoes under the deck.

And check out my new ride!

It turns out that our neighbor (Pam) was selling her mower because her joints aren't handling all the jolts and bumps very well.

Yes, moving has been quite a change. It feels even the same old routine is different--though it's not. It's been refreshing in a way--waking up in a different room, learning a new route to the bathroom in the dark, new appliances to learn--same results (eventually anyway!) just a new way of getting there. It's also been a great motivator to incorporate those things that for so long I've been meaning to; making certain habits and breaking others. Yes...change is refreshing!

 

"Mommy, is this number 7?"

It was the first day of unleavened bread where I got to see and spend a little time with my sister and her family. I had been holding baby Sebastien for a while, and as he started to doze, it was almost time for the second service. So I laid Sebastien on his blanket where he decided he didn't like it as well as my arm and started to fuss.

Meanwhile, little Jean-Philippe says, "Auntie Sarah, is this number seven?" Hmmm, what could he be talking about? So I said, "no, this isn't the 7th day, but the first day of unleavened bread...so, it's number one." Confused and in disbelief that he could be wrong, he turned to Anna and said, "Mommy! Is this number seven? Or is it number one?" Mommy replied, "yes, this is number seven." Jean-Philippe looked at me. "This is number SEVEN!" Well, what does auntie Sarah know?


I shouldn't have questioned the four year olds' intelligence. I looked to Anna and said, "Mommy? What is he talking about?" Being so close to the start time of the second service, they always play the hymns to send subliminal "time-to-sit-down" messages. As it turns out, the hymn that was being played was you guessed it: number 7! What four year old can tell you the hymn number by just hearing the music? What ADULT could tell you the hymn number? Will Jean-Philippe ever be able to trust his auntie Sarah again? Perhaps after I learn the hymns myself and one-up him...but until then, I'm sure he'll always question the one who thought hymn number seven was number one! I mean, wouldn't you? 



A Busy Time of Year

Perhaps it's all in my head, but it seems when the Spring Holy Days come, so does everything else. The flu, new dog, allergies, new job...

So, I've told you about Polly. And she's great, but it's back to getting up in the middle of the night; going outside every hour in the day to keep from accidents in the house. It's nice that I can

take a break from my own projects, but sometimes all those breaks make one project last all day. The flu put me two weeks behind in my  deleavening, so at this point, it's like I need to be getting at least 3 projects done in a day. By the end of the day, I go over my list of what needs to get done and make half an "x" through one item. I'll finish the rest of that tomorrow.

Did she say, new job? Yes, Sam took a new job. There's a long-ish story to it, but I'm going to be out of character here and not go into all the details because I don't think the whole Internet world needs access to it. Sam loved his other job, and the people there--and they were happy with him (I mean, his boss had driven something like 80 miles just to bring us homemade chicken-noodle-soup when we were sick!) But without burning any bridges, he took a new job (after time and much counsel) that was offered to him.

And so, with a new job comes change; change in big ways, change in so many details. Different phone, computer, insurance, vehicle, etc, etc. All these things hit at once and we've found that it's a perfect environment for bad attitudes to creep in unawares, because who likes changing when they're already comfortable? Yes, I can tell it's Spring Holy day time!

The new job called for a cake--though, it did feel a little sinful baking a big fat cake the week before the days of unleavened bread. It was delicious! But can you go wrong with Betty Crocker's cake mix? It was originally a vanilla cake, but I turned it into a lemon cake, with lemon cream-cheese icing (Wendy, that's the best recipe EVER!) You can see my last minute decorations. I just never know when to stop decorating...like when is enough, enough? I added the words, then the strawberries, then some blueberries on top, then some sprinkles, then some blueberries on the side. Before I could ruin it with real lemon slices, I quit while I was ahead.

While deleavening, I came across a box of ice cream bars. I shoved them aside and continued to clean the freezer. The following day, I got some chicken out of the freezer for dinner. I caught another glance of the ice cream bars. I quickly did a run through in my head of the ingredients in the bars: "chocolate coating, peanuts, caramel, and ice cream." I started to laugh at myself for even considering the possibility that ice cream bars (with no bready anything) would have leavening in them, but I reached for the box anyway.

 ..."blah, blah-blah, blah, blah-blah, sodium bicarbonate, blah, blah-blah, blah, blah-blah."...wait what! Isn't that baking soda? Shocked I was to find that creepy little ingredient in my ice cream bars! I was so floored, I started checking the ingredients in literally everything....yogurt, milk, ketchup. There's a reason we examine ourselves--we find we're not as spotless as we were so sure of. God can only do so much--I have to be doing my part to start with.  

Allergies. What can I say about them other than they suck? I wrote a blog about allergies last year. They've struck again! It seems early for their attack, but alas, the trees are budding already and my hyacinths have come up and are blooming. However, with everything else looking dead and shabby, they just don't seem to look as pretty.

It's Sunday morning, and the day is afoot. And so I must keep up with it. I will see you on the other side of the beginning of the Spring Holy days! I hope everyone has a most enjoyable Night To Be Much Observed. To those who are hosting this year, we're wishing you much success! It's always exciting to serve in that way.

Happy trails!

When Harley met Polly

Polly said, "rar rar rar rar rar!" So Harley did what most males do--wondered what in the world she was going on about.

A couple Sundays ago, we brought home a playmate, friend and sister for Harley. Her name is Polly. It's funny to see the differences between them when Harley was just a pup. He was calm yet playful, very quiet, and a slow learner. Polly is definitely a girl with something to say about everything, ready to attack Harley at every corner, and she's a quick study. She's already obeying the "go potty" command (and she's only 7 weeks). She gets the idea of "no," however she's a diva; obedience comes with an attitude.

Harley tolerates his baths and at times, when the water is just right, he seems to enjoy it. He doesn't love the hair dryer, but he lays there and "takes it like a man."

Polly has had two baths since we've had her and she becomes cat-like. On the bath side of it, she becomes stiff and all Frankenstein-ish. And yes, she thinks she can tell me the what-for. She hates the hair dryer and claws at me to escape. After a while, she decides playing the pitiful puppy will work and she starts to whimper. When it doesn't work, she lets out sharp yells like she's being endlessly abused or something. All I can think is: DRAMA QUEEN!

At times the two play rough together where once again she gets vocal. Harley can get aggravated with her get a little aggressive--I guess even dogs can build steam and explode! Still, other times I turn around to see precious things like this:

And when Harley gets in trouble for playing too rough with her, she comforts him.

The two have the same father but different mothers. They may look completely different and have two completely different personalities, but I think I've found a common gene in them...

 

With Harley being well trained already, it's made Polly's training a little easier. For example, when I say, "Let's go outside!" Harley knows what it means and immediately heads for the door. Polly is constantly at his heels, so she comes running too. It's been two weeks, so now when I say, "Let's go outside!" Polly is the first to go running to the door! I wasn't sure what to expect in training another puppy, but I gotta say, it's kinda nice. :)

In 6 Days...

When Harley woke me up this morning with a bark, I hopped out of bed and stopped. Wait a minute. No dizzy spell? 

Rewind.

Wednesday morning, the alarm sounds at 4:00. I pry my crusty eyes open, reach for the clock. My body hurts. Back to sleep. Harley barks. I slip out of bed. Steady myself. Take Harley out to potty. Crash on the couch. Harley jumps on the couch and sticks his face in mine--and I don't care. Sam comes out in his robe.

Day 1: The Flu.

"I think I'm dying," says I.
Sam grunts. He must think he's dying too.

We sleep more.

Sam reminded me of a post on google+ that had a kick-the-flu-quick recipe.

Recipe: 6 squeezed lemons, 2 tbsp honey, 3 cups pineapple juice, 1 bulb garlic, 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, 2 tsp ginger powder (blended together). A cup every few hours and you'll have the flu licked!

I made a quick run to Food Lion for the ingredients I lacked, then made the wonder-juice. I took two gulps and I was hurling over the pot. Sam managed to kick back a whole glass with no side effects--except aftertaste. He never braved another cup.

Day 2: Sore throat and fever.

Just when I didn't think the flu could get any worse, Thursday morning I woke up to the addition of a sore throat.

The "fever check" has always been a hand to the head. So when I was reminded that I actually have a thermometer, I got a little excited about being able to check my temperature. It was 103.

It was a sad, miserable day. I called our minister for anointing. He said I didn't sound like myself--I'm sure he meant to say I sounded like Sam.

I called our 68 year old neighbor lady who suddenly disappeared two months ago, but this time, she actually picked up the phone.

"I finally had surgery," she said. Hip surgery.

"Well Pam," says I, "you can only imagine what we thought when we saw them carrying your mattress out the door!"

"Yes, I can't do without my mattress," says she.

Day 3: Immobility.

Still sick, weak and miserable, whether I was really able to walk or not, I played the more pitiful role and crawled my way to the pantry to get Harley his food. I sat on the floor exhausted. Once his bowls were refilled, I crawled back to the living room and sunk myself into the couch. Harley thought it was a game and as always, assumed his character: playful friend.

Day 4: Scotch.

By this point, sabbath had arrived and we were zombies.

Someone mentioned "scotch" to me a couple different times--all in jest. But perhaps because of my delirious state, I suddenly thought taking a swig might help. So I did. Wrong. Once again, I assumed my position at the toilet bowl.

It was not a happy Sabbath.

Day 5: Chicken noodle soup and Daffodils.

The day is Sunday and Sam gets a call from his boss saying that they're bringing over some home-made chicken noodle soup for us. They live an hour away. What special people!

(Sam finds two more of Harley's teeth).

The soup arrived along side a vase of daffodils--now sitting atop our tuneless piano.

The soup was delicious! Harley ate the portions that fell down my chin and onto to my lap. He loved it too.

After five days, I lost 13 pounds.

Day 6, here we are, Monday, and I'm feeling "better." Not 100%. Everything is still settled in my chest where it reaches up to tug on my tonsils and swing on my bobber-wobble, making me cough every 5 minutes.

What does it mean when you reach to position your glasses better on your nose, and as your finger meets skin you realize you're not wearing your glasses? Just happened.

We can only go up from here!

Can't Shake the Comma

English Major here. Now, I don't remember when it started, but there's been a rule out for sometime now that in a sequence of events (three or more), you don't have to add that extra comma before the word "and." For example:

 

I couldn't believe she walked, talked and smelled like a man!

 

While I think that's great and all, I just can't seem to shake the comma! But then I've noticed that I've been adding commas everywhere in my writing. I'm one to write like I speak. I speak not only dramatically, but I usually digress with extra little tid-bits that aren't always necessary, but are deemed interesting enough to add them. It's something I catch every now and then, but just haven't gotten too serious enough about to give myself some harsh criticism. I add comas as I pause in thought. Though, I also use the "dot, dot, dot." But...perhaps, when, it, starts, looking, like, this...I'll, do, something, about, it...

In other news, my little 5 month old has lost two teeth already. Surprise, surprise! Apparently, his breed goes through a lot of teeth in their life. The first one I found by stepping on it--in my socks. The second one, Harley seemed to realize that something just fell out of his mouth as he investigated and played with it. TMI? Get a dog!



You try brushing a dog's teeth. It's not easy.

Recently, whether my vision is getting worse or not, it's starting to bother me that I can't see certain things. Movies aren't as interesting to me because they're not clear. I get nervous driving in new territory because I can't read the signs till I get close enough to them. I'm almost sure that my vision didn't just all-of-a-sudden "go bad." Foolish child I was--I had encouraged bad eyes. Why? I actually wanted glasses. Didn't the kids with glasses get teased with names like "four-eyes" or "nerd?"

Perhaps I was into fashion-forward thinking, supposing they looked hip. Or maybe I just wanted to look more like Dad or Anna. Well, for whatever reason, if only I were so lucky to get glasses! I used to wear Anna's old, round, pink frames with no lenses. Believe me: very cool. Though, not satisfied with "play" glasses, the logical thing, then, was to pretend I couldn't see so I could get my very own glasses (with lenses). Making sure my "bad vision" was known, I walked right up to the clock, face to face, and read aloud the time, or bumped into a wall and said, "oh my! I didn't see that wall there!" It was supposed to render comments like, "oh wow Sarah, your eyes are bad. We should get you some glasses." But after my ridiculous, numerous, failing attempts to prove that my good eyes were bad, I gave up. However, I'm convinced all that has finally caught up to me--only now, (you guessed it!), I don't want glasses. I think I got my first pair of glasses when I was about 15, and I wore them a lot. I eventually switched to contacts. Once I started having problems with those, I went "cold turkey"--though I'm not sure that expression applies. :) But like I say, I've gotten tired of not being able to see. So, as of last week:

 

 

New glasses! Besides the pink, round, lensless frames, these are the biggest I've had. Come to find out, "you're supposed to get your eyes checked once a year" she told me. Posh! I said, "I'll see you in five years!" :)

 

And finally, something I'm coming to appreciate more in life are attitudes like this one:  



 

Happy trails!

Melting

Yesterday, out of the blue, Sam said, "We'll go to the store sometime soon and get you a new dress for the winter." What have I done to deserve such a loving husband who wants to give me the world?

Not that the world is a new dress, LOL.

But, "out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks." And so, when things like this happen, whether it's "I want you to have a new dress" or "I want to splurge on you with hugs and kisses!"--anything that includes me in his life--I melt. A random, "I've been thinking about you".....oh, there I go....

I'm melllllllllllltiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!!!!

Food For Thought

Recently, I actually bought a REAL book--one I could hold in my hand and flip from page to page, fold the ears down, circle words and paragraphs and scribble my own little notes in the margins. The book is called "Created to be His Help Meet." Here are several teasers from it you can mull over as food for thought:

>A woman trying to function like a man is as ridiculous as a man trying to be like a woman. A unisex society is a senseless society--a society dangerously out of order.

>If God created a special woman, perfectly suited to be your husband's helper, would you be that woman?

>It is not a question of whether or not you can do a better job than he, it's a matter of doing what you were "designed" to do. It is far better that the job [leading the family] be done poorly by your husband than to be done well by you.

>Who and what you are is reflected in your face. Does your husband see you as a happy thankful woman?

>Discontentment is not a product of circumstances; it is the state of the soul.

>There are basically three types of men: Mr. Command, Mr. Visionary, and Mr. Steady.

>Chapter 10: Reactions Define You

>A man cannot cherish a strong woman who expresses her displeasure of him. ... Do you want your husband to be forced to seek supernatural power just to find a way to love you?

>A man will allow his woman many, many, many faults as long as he knows that she thinks he is great.

>A wise woman patterns her life after her husband's. His working, playing, eating, and sleeping habits become hers.

>Her ambition was personal, spiritual fulfillment, which is the most selfish drive that can possess a person and the easiest to justify, humanly speaking.

>Women who seek higher spirituality end up feeling and acting spiritually superior to their husbands...and it is a death knell to a healthy marriage relationship. Spend that "desired" spiritual time with your husband, where real growth and maturity with God will be found.

>God says a woman who lacks discretion is like a jewel in a pig's nose.

>It will not be enough for you to just force yourself into silence and start surrendering your will. It is time for you to start practicing reverence toward your husband.

>We want the Bible to be strictly our guide, but there is always a danger of reading something into it to suit our personal sense of propriety.

>When a woman resists or tries to change a man, she makes him more stubborn, and her own heart will be filled with bitterness.

>A woman's greatest power is in obeying God through obeying and honoring her husband.

>You cannot become his conscience or his accuser, expecting that pressure is going to push him into repentance.

>Don't confuse sympathy with encouragement. If you feel sorry for his hurt feelings and sympathize with him, you will only add fuel to his emotional fire.

>Get off the phone, lay down romance novels, turn off the TV, stay off the web, reduce outside visits or women's classes, and focus on putting your time into what your husband is doing.

>He only needs his woman to pour her life into his, for him to pour his soul back into hers.

>Three things that can break a man's spirit and cripple a marriage: 1) A wife who is spiritually critical, 2) A discontented wife, and 3) A wife who is not fulfilling...Titus 2:3-5.

I've done it again....

...left you all hanging for a while. I think it's pretty obvious by now that I'm a lousy blogger. Guess you'll just have to take what you can get from me. :)

So, what's been going on?....Because of my neglect, now I have to sift through my short term memory (which often fails me) to give a boring list-style summation of what's been going on.

Not that the only thing worth posting about is Harley, but as of recently, it always seems the most eventful thing. But, since the last post was completely devoted to him, I'll let a picture and a few brief words be his only part in this post:

Growing like a weed. New nicknames: "Little Ewok" and "Charlie"...though he doesn't respond to either. Potty training is going well. He must really like the treats he's getting. ;-)

Moving on....

I've got this "audio books" app on my phone--things have become so convenience-oriented--where I downloaded this book called "Think and Grow Rich." From the title of the book and from chapter one, I was fooled into thinking I found a treasure here, but somewhere in chapter 2, I quit and UN-downloaded it. Here are a few things I took from chapter 1:

>Opportunity comes most often in the form of misfortune.

>One of the most common reasons for failure is the habit of quitting.

>If you would have held on a moment longer, you would have succeeded.

>Success comes to those who are success-conscious. Failure comes to those who indifferently allow themselves to become failure-conscious.

>Thought habits: What you habitually think about is what you are.

>"I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul" (Henley). You have the power to control your
thoughts.

>Our brains become magnetized with the dominating thoughts we hold.

To my disappointment, however, the following chapter talked about how you must be obsessed with money in order to obtain it. Phooey. I took the title "Think and Grow Rich" to be talking about growing rich in thought, and therefore in character, but it turns out, it's really talking about material wealth. Nothing wrong with material wealth, but to make it an obsession is fruitless and is a misdirected goal. I could have overlooked Chapter 2, and given it another chance with Chapter 3 but the disappointment was too great. And so, the book is gone, and has since been replaced with a biography on Lincoln.

Did I mention that Sam has started school? Well he has! He's taking a class on sales management. After High School, he went straight into the workforce and has excelled tremendously without the college experience. But he's excited that he's been given the opportunity, and he seems to be enjoying it!

Sam's first day of school.

 

On to the weather: it's been cold, rainy, warm, chilly, windy, calm, sunny, icy, and then rainy again...did I leave anything out? 

 

We're looking forward to having a garden this year--last year was our land rest. We don't really have a convenient location for a garden--the year before proved that--but we'll try again anyways. The only produce we got were the habaneros that I had mistaken for regular bell peppers--quite the surprise--but I was able to make some jars of salsa with them, so it wasn't a total loss. This year, with a year of experience under our belt, we'll make a few adjustments, including some pots on the back porch for our tomatoes. They need more sun than our shady little spot-of-a-garden. Previously, the tomatoes have been snitched by some squirly creatures in our forested back yard, so I'm still not sure what we'll do about them, but Sam will think of something. *wink*

And here's a new houseplant I potted just last week to go along with our lonely money tree.

I know I said only the one picture and mention of Harley, but I just had to post this picture from today. Harley and I have been walking up and down our road where he usually finds treasures to sneak into the house (of course, since Mama is sneakier than him, he can never remember where he put his treasures), and today, his delicious find was a plain old stick that he carried for our entire walk!

 

 

That's it's for now. I'll make an effort to improve my bloggery....