Hand Wringing and Doom and Gloomers

If it is a sin to worry... oh, wait.. you may not know that, let me set my premise to this whole chat then.

Worry:
In Matthew, chapter six, Jesus speaks a good deal of worry, he asks us if it really gets us any where and in a way answers that and then says to not worry because He will take care of us.

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Worry and being anxious is in direct opposition to faith, anxiety is the opposite of what Christ calls us to, He calls us to have faith in Him, not in our strength, not in dates and opinion polls, not in our ability to fuss and worry over all things in life, but to have faith in His strength, to rely on Him.

Christ tells us not to worry about earthly things, clothes, food, friends, He even tells us not to worry about what would be terribly important, our testimony when we are arrested because we know Him.

Even modern science tell us that worry, stress, robs from us. It makes us age faster. Like Christ says, today has enough trouble of its own, like the poor, there will always be stresses, ones that we cannot escape, ones that are not a result of faith breaking worry and fear. But we are not to heap on the troubles of today and worry and fear our tomorrows. Worry certainly does not buy us more time and science backs that one up. Not because Christ needs modern science to back Him up, but interesting how the truth of the words of Christ do not need to see the end of this world to be plainly seen as true, right and good.

What is sin really, but to go against God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit? To live in and for the flesh and not reside in the Spirit, all of that, it is all sin. Sorry, if that just broadens the scope of what is sin and what is not, in your world. But to worry, to fret, to fear situations, is to not have faith, to not rest in God and take Him at His word, that He will take care of us.

Check it out, you do not have to become a breatharian ascetic to live a Spirit-led, faith-filled, anxiety-denying life. The Spirit leads us to eat and eat peacefully. True servants of His made cloth for clothing and tents for shelter. He calls us to be in company with one another, to crave to be in fellowship, to travel, to do good deeds of all sorts. But all that for Christ and not our very own flesh.

Might I go on now?

So its a sin to worry and be anxious and sin will always come into the world, we aren't going to stop it at the gate. However, if the one who lets the sin slip by them and causes a child of God to sin there by drawing an eventual remorse so strong that the Path-Paver would then choose to be drown for certain in the sea with a millstone around their neck, then why on earth would you desire to cause or stir up worry in another person?

Just wonderin'.

(Matthew 18:6, Mark 9:42 and Luke 17:2 in case you think I'm nutty about what happens to the path pavers, wide gate openers, uh, what they would rather have happen to them.)

So if you would not wish to cause another worry whether for their soul or for your very own neck, then why would you do business with a person who trades on anxieties and worries to make their buck?

Now I am not talking about not buying a safe ladder, or rubber gloves, or new brakes for your car, or vitamin C.

Remember, weavers, tent makers, moms, dads, travelers, neighbors we're all called to be His.

What I am speaking of, wondering about is, perpetuating the commerce of anxiety by buying into doom and gloom and "whoa is us", and "oh no the world is coming to an end" or at least a whopping good crisis.

I got news for you. The world is going to end. That is with out a doubt.

However, no one knows that day and time, not even Christ, only the Father. And no one is going to escape it no matter how deep their bomb shelter, or secluded their dwelling, or stocked their root cellar is, because it will end at God's hand, not a bomb, not a nuclear winter, not a carbon overloaded-sky-climate change.

I am not saying that you ought not to be prepared for the future, if you are headed for a trip in the mountains, by all means, grab your coat and put the chains in the trunk. But for crying out loud, do not worry and do not borrow trouble that is not there for you.

What business is it that these purveyors of doom and worry are in? You find them every where, selling nearly everything, everything but real peace and contentment. They will even sell you false mind-numbing contentment if you want it. They will convince you you have some crisis. They sell you themselves and their ideas, they sell you products to stave off the end of the world or at least protect you, or numb you, but mostly what they are selling you is anxiety, worry and a fraudulent product.

Y2K bring back any memories for anyone? A contrived crisis, where no one was reminded to rely on God but instead they were sold millions of dollars of "survival goods." The only business that hurt from that one was the sorry fellas that don't know how to be good hucksters: find or contrive a weakness, a fear; strike it; suck it for all its worth; and then move on to the next thing.

Some purveyors of panic are very good, very discrete, you can hardly tell what they are up to, it all seems so sweet and well meaning, and "golly, I was wondering about that too." No clear signs of selling fretfulness.

But then there are the others, that because no one calls out the selling of worry and whoa, doom and gloom, they are just plain bold, and the point is right there in their very own words.

Yes, they may be dressed up all cutesy in overalls and a floppy garden hat, or Victorian garb and dainty lace gloves, but their message of looming crisis is strong and unabashedly bold in print. "Buy our product because there is a crisis on the horizon, a big one, a prolonged one. To make it through you need us."

They say their product brings you peace.

With that one Dear Christ-Follower, you ought to hear in your head, your gut, your heart, your spirit, the sound of a needle sliding across a rotating disc of vinyl.

No one brings peace in a crisis or in daily life but Christ. And Christ says not to worry.

Then why are you buying into a product that is wringing its hands on the sideline with a pitifully knit brow and tears in its eyes for the Unprepared?

And low and behold nine times out of ten the product is faulty. Food in tin cans can not last forever, grain once it is ground will loose its nutrition, and many seeds do not last for five years, albeit some last longer, but some last a little over a year.

Live right right now.

Don't by a bucket of stale right living and put it in your freezer to pull out when the crisis hits. Most plants for food take an average of three months to mature, the unprepared ground another month or two to prep, given even that the right crisis hits in the right season, what good is it to bank on a salvation that comes four months after the crisis?

Look, I'm not saying that it isn't a good idea to garden and learn to save seed, in fact that is what I am saying, learn to listen to the Holy Spirit, make your food today, save of your harvest what you know you will need for the next day's planting, be an ant, be wise, be fruitful but do not worry. There is a big difference.

I'm not saying to be indolent and then arrive at my back door or freeway off ramp when your belly is a little empty. Learn to work your soil and your muscles so that you are not found weak and un-knowledgeable. But that takes daily practice, not a bucket in your freezer to be pulled out when the crisis finally hits.

And if you have no soil of your own or your muscles are not what they used to be? Find an honest business that is there to fill your needs, your honest needs, not your pretend or sinful needs. Hire them to do what you cannot, there is nothing wrong with that. The concept of self-reliance is not only quite far fetched it is also not how we are to live.

We are to live in community, relying on each other no matter how painful and irritating that may be. But we are to do so with honesty and forthrightness. Not manipulating each other's base fleshly worries and oiling up our panic buttons.

Being in a line of work or having a fairly decent smattering of skills that could play along with the current "green" crisis business, it is very tempting to join hands and participate in the nonsense that could make cash for my hip pocket.

To part hand-wringers from their hard earned cash in a barely honest manner is very tempting, "everyone is doing it", and good people are participating and buying into it, why shouldn't I?

Why shouldn't I? Because it will make my Father's stomach turn? Because it will grieve the Holy Spirit in whom I ought to be relying on to teach me better ways?

Because it will continue to cause others to sin?

And golly, I really don't like the idea of drowning.

Arbor Day Party

Hey, as I stated in an earlier post, uh I think the last one actually, I've decided on not opening on April twenty-second or any time real soon, 'cause after all like Connie said, I's the boss. Instead of an opening day with tea and cookies on that-day-I-don't-care-for-because-of-it's-knuckle-head-association, I suggested we still have a party and on Arbor Day, a day I do like.

(By the way, in spite of any thing I say in this post or others, no matter how derogatory I can get, if you want to, or already do, celebrate what is commonly known as "Earth Day" April 22, I'm cool with that, I might even eat those interesting blue and green colored roundish cookies without sugar you had your kids make for the occasion. I just won't be hosting one here or arriving at your place in a Prius.)

In Washington state, Arbor Day is this Wednesday, April 14th, sorry 'bout the short notice for a party. But let's do it! Cookies and such around two-ish shall we? Although I do have a nasty cold so if you have fragile health issues you ought to know I'm a coffin' up a storm right now, but I have masks and if you show up with a scarf around your nose and mouth we'll be okay with that.

And then of course National Arbor Day is April 30th, if that is a more doable date for you, let say lunch-ish, bring a brown bag, I'll have a cooler of cokes and such and we can picnic in any number of special spots.

I'm sorry if my dislike for Earth Day throws you, Dear Reader, but I just can't hack it. The whole of it, the stuff that they promote on it or around it, in association to it, or the folks that conceived it and why they picked the date they did... I've tried in the past to like Earth Day but it has never set well.

I have, however, always enjoyed Arbor Day, it was a day my dad and I would often share and celebrate, and 'cause I fall more from that tree than the one who would say, "Let's keep at it so we stay ahead of things Lanny," we would often be celebrating it not quite on Arbor Day for Washington or National Arbor Day either, we often made up our own date when we had let the other slip by or had something arbor-ish to do way ahead or when we were without a calendar.

So I'm thinking that's what I'm gonna do, only even more Lanny style. My dad would just say what the heck and we would go do something treeish or birdish if we realized we were off date. It was something we did, just the two of us. I wanted to be a forest ranger and I think he sort of liked that and wanted to encourage that.

Any who, I'm puttin' a Lanny spin on it this year, including even the whole part that I'm a little late for doing it up just right, that is very Lanny.

Here's my idea: lets celebrate Arbor Day, here on my blog and at Victory Farm and Gardens. If you swing by in the flesh, uh in person not in a hedonistic sinful manner, any one of these days (give a ring though the night before because we could have plans to be out back or run to town for more party supplies) that some state or other celebrates and takes care of trees and birds.

Remember, Lanny's definition of party can be just about anything, balloons, clowns, cake, whistles, fancy punches are not mandatory, but can be nice if that's what ya got. So if you swing by we'll be partying, just please, don't be disappointed.

I won't be listing the states who's date has already come and gone.

Washington (that's me) second Wednesday in April.

Wyoming last Monday in April

Idaho, Montana, Nevada, South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Nebraska, Iowa, Utah, Texas, Kansas, Virginia, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, New York, Connecticut, Delaware. Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire (and this year, National) last Friday in April

North Dakota, Vermont first Friday in May

Maine third full week in May (that's why I like this state, a whole week of partying!)

Alaska third Monday in May

Really not all that many days for Tree and Bird Parties but it'll do and leave us for a couple of chances for other parties, like slug or fern parties. We've got April 14th, 26th, and the 30th, then May 7th, and the 16th through the 22nd. Woohoo! Eleven plus chances to party.

And again, why Arbor Day? And not that Other Day?

Arbor Day isn't doom and gloomy, it is a bright and joyful celebration of trees, planting trees, planting other things when you can't plant trees, putting up bird feeders, going for a hike in a national forest.

Arbor Day isn't about putting hidden spikes in trees that could kill those who desire to use the resource properly, it is about planting them and enjoying them for what they are, a tree, they are not reincarnations of my dead great aunt Judy.

Arbor Day is about being protective, just not a psychosis dressed up to look like protection. Protection is appropriate, we are called to be protectors, of trees and land, especially those of us who know we are called and free in Christ.

No, we are not free to chop down whatever we think we need, but we also are not to be doom and gloomy and fear-filled and psychotically controlling of everyone but ourselves. Lording our knowledge or worse yet, pseudo-knowledge over others, determining how much toilet paper others ought to use, how many light bulbs each household can buy a year, what automobile, if any, a person can own and when they can drive it...

So yes, lets celebrate God's creation and specifically trees and the beauty, wonder, and service that is ours from the trees God gave us and the little (and big) birds that inhabit them. Lets celebrate it on J. Sterling Morton's Arbor Day or really, any other day we find ourselves thankful for God's creation of trees and mindful of our stewardship responsibility.

My Ceiling: Room Redo Part 3

In a way I am sorry that I don't have a picture of what my ceiling used to look like. Just never thought it was necessary to take a picture of ugly with a capital U. Let me try and describe the amount of ugliness.

It had holes where swag lamp hooks once were, there were these large dimples, the size of monster clam holes, okay the size of quarters and half dollar pieces, they were sprinkled all over the ceiling, except in the area where you could see the outline of a four by four sheet of plywood right around the light fixture. Speaking of right around the light fixture, which was one of those lovely square glass numbers from the early sixties, the paint and fine (as in thin, not lovely) coating of texture was brown and peeling from the heat of the light bulbs. Maybe or maybe not, it could have been because in my desperation to see in a nearly windowless room I had put hundred watt-ers in, maybe.

Dirt and I had begun debating about the ceiling right away in the redo process, once we realized that it was going to be more than getting a new mattress and painting the walls. After I did the plaster on the walls I knew I was not up for a Sistine Chapel thing on the ceiling and was wanting something lovely, totally covering all the bizarreness and not all that difficult. What we found, nearly by accident, because I found it the day we were debating closet guts, was in my opinion nearly a perfect thing. Paintable wall paper.

It is supposed to look like pressed tin squares. Whether it does or not is beside the point for me really, it just makes the ceiling look lovely.

It was relatively easy to put up with all four of us working. We ended up working in the dark because, well because, this time of year it gets dark soon so if you really want to use the hours in your day, you will end up doing somethings in the dark.

Mr. Vick, aka Dirt, had assured me that the room was square, he had just put in the floating floor from Ikea (cheap but clean and lovely) and sure enough you could see that the floor was indeed very square, very surprising for this old farm house I might add. I am convinced that the folks, each different set, that built this house did so without a tape measure, square or level, like the kid who builds a tree house without using any of dad's power tools after the first day.

I should have snapped a plumb line, it would have only taken me a minute and would have shown that the top of the wall bowed in in the middle considerably, making the lines, and there are plenty of lines in the paintable wall paper, slightly off in some places and "would you please not stare at the ceiling" off in others.

Then came the debate over color. Yes, I so love color and I am so driven batty by large expanses of white that even the idea of white on a ceiling causes me to melt. Dirt being the color minimalist that he is, cannot understand why I don't just go white, especially on the ceiling. Well because, for one when white is in a shadow it is actually grey, when color is in a shadow it is just that color only with a shadow. We have plenty of shadow days in the Pacific Northwest and our fair share of grey.

My brain in fact is full of grey. It needs, needs I exclaim, color. And for number two, white is the color my canvas is before I put myself on it (yes folks, I used to be a budding artist, back in my hippy childhood days, the only classes I took my senior year were art classes including art assistant, four blissful hours of various art, I even toyed with majoring in art in college, until I spoke to my dad that is). In my world, white begs for something to be done and I have enough work screaming at me from all corners of my life without a bunch of "canvases" screaming at me that aren't really in need of anything because someone has painted them already, just painted them white.

So there you have it folks, welcome once again to inside my head, isn't it fun in there? I did notice that my skin was looking a tad jaundice and sickly with all the green so I knew I wanted to warm it up a bit. My ceiling in the dining room is a lovely mango so when the idea of using the metallic paint, "warm silver" was tossed out on its ear, I decided to go "pink".

I took one of my whiter mis-mix paints, dribbled a little of our trim paint in it, swirled it up and rollered it on. And I love it. It looks like the sky at sunset or early morning light coming across our wonderful mountain, all pink and glowing promises of a fantastic day.

After cruising the home interiors catalogs on-line with Dirt and the poor school teacher actually toying with the idea of spending over a hundred bucks on a mini chandelier, I found myself at Ikea picking up their lovely thirty-nine dollar special. Of course the European cover for the electrical outlet did not fit so Dirt picked up a "ceiling canopy" at Home Depot for about fifteen bucks, unfortunately he didn't find a solid black one and on the phone his idea of color isn't mine. I used the sample of warm silver metallic paint that I picked up for the ceiling to take the black down a bit and maybe later I will try to do a better job matching the canopy, the curtain rods and the light fixture, but for now it works.

In the two days that Dirt and I spent looking and contemplating mini-chandeliers on-line I came to find out that Dirt is a shiny bauble sort of guy, who knew, and all this new information after twenty-nine years of marriage, huh. So because I didn't care for IKEA's version of shiny baubles and went with the plain one instead, part of what I will be doing today to put the finishing touches on my room is putting baubles on my light fixture.

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I had really wanted colored light shades but alas could not rationalize spending twenty bucks times five for just the perfect shade. Painting them turned out awful so I will keep the extra that I bought to cover my experiment, and see if attaching a few baubles to the shades help, if not off they come and I will just put the beads on wires draped on the fixture itself.

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So that was my plan for the day, 'cept Dirt took my car to work and in it was the bag of extra baubles from Michael's Craft Supply.

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Has anyone else noticed that the stores have less stuff in them than usual? The girls and I stopped in a Michael's down in a little town south of here on Thanksgiving weekend and I was surprised by the limited supply and selection of trimmings over last year. It seemed like they didn't even have the amount at the beginning of the season that they had a week after Christmas last year when we went to get stuff for this year (a favorite thing of mine to do and because we celebrate into the middle of January I put my new finds out right away and enjoy them for the current year and the next).

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Any way, I thought the limited selection was because of the location of the store, so yesterday when Dirt took me to the Michael's on South Hill, I was again surprised by the limited supply and selection and the lack of crammed-ness feeling in the store. I have also noticed it in other stores, a nursery/cutesy shop here in our little town again seems to have the amount of stuff at the beginning of the season that it has had in the past for the "after all is said and done" sale.

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I'm thinking the "bad economy" is finally starting to take its toll on the merchants that never seem to be affected. When the economy alarm is sounded, like it was with a vengeance last year, it is always hard to grasp, sorta like "global warming", because the wheels of commerce seem to grind merrily a long and people are seen still purchasing large quantities of worthless stuff and the garbage trucks never stop running down 304th street.

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I haven't been in the stores enough lately, bed rest and all, to notice the amount of worthless-things-purchasing going on. It always seemed in the past, that folks just let the good ol plastic absorb their financial short comings. And of course it is always hard to believe the cries of commerce woe sounded by the news media the week before Thanksgiving and then again toward the end of the Christmas shopping season, come on we all know that is a set up, who owns the media, who owns the stores, really now. But maybe, just maybe, this year we really are in a recession or some sort of economic woe as a whole country, except I'm not really hearing much said about it as I am seeing evidence in the shops. That is a switch.

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Don't get me wrong, I am well aware of the economics of regular folks and that some folk are really in a bind and have been for a while. It is just that, in the past, economic woes, as reported or felt, never seem to be reflected in the market place in spite of the horror that the media portrays. And this fall with the nonsense I heard going on in local churches and Kamp Krusty's reporting similar ridiculousness across the nation, who would have guessed that we were in the middle of hard economic times.

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After all when a smallish church (200 or so) can kick in ten thousand bucks to the denomination's consultant to the region for what ails their church and then add to that the hiring of a fella to the tune of thirty-thousand to increase their numbers and up their tithing (yes, we know the joke) then clearly there is no one out of work in those congregations. When churches have leadership luncheons catered to the tune of thirty bucks a plate for a couple of sandwiches, then obviously if you are experiencing financial woes, you are doing so alone I say.

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But I have heard that our President is encouraging folks to spend money, along with encouraging mothers to abandon their children and go back to school, so maybe our churches are just doing their level best to help shoulder the burden of the economy and spend money on dumb stuff. Then again maybe they just have a screwed up idea of what church is supposed to be. Oh wait, I forgot that verse where Paul tells Peter that church is just big business.

Okay I'm done ranting, how did I even get here, oh yeah, stuff in the stores, but enough of that, I actually have some reading material to enjoy along with doing up the bead work that Dirt brought back home in my car he stole today.

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Speaking of things being delivered, today our mail was delivered practically in our bathroom. Our mail carrier drove her jeep down to our house so that she could use our potty, apparently the store on her route where she usually stops was having water trouble today. Yikes. Talk about unexpected company and in my bathroom no less!

So this is my current reading material. And I am so looking forward to it.

Because the one book, EcoFarming, has pages that look like this...

...and this. Exciting stuff I tell ya. All part of Dirt's and my journey to becoming real farmers and preparing for him to eventually stop teaching and work just from here.
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What a concept, a time when my husband will just have one job! Ever since I've known Dirt he has always had more than one thing that he does to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. But that is a whole big post on work ethic and men taking care of their families and getting things done.
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The other book is a reprint and part of it was run years ago in a magazine I use to get, Small Farmer's Journal out of Oregon, it focuses on farming using horses instead of tractors. This all kind of brings up a huge conflict for me, I am very much into the environment, always have been, when I wasn't contemplating majoring in art I was majoring in Forestry. I wore hiking boots and carried a back pack before they were standard issue, well the days I wasn't wearing a sizzler and wood platform shoes anyway. But this new trend of green this and green that and sustainable nose picking, for crying out loud, it is all just a bit batty driving.

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It makes me want to spray chemicals just to be contrary. I have a few friends that do real farming and the fact that they don't get paid their due for good honestly produced food but some whacked out store can saran wrap two eggs call them organic and sustainably farmed, then charge the same amount as for a dozen eggs, it drives me. What the heck and how freaking gullible is America anyway? Please people, eat some protein so you can think.

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So as much as it would behove us to market how green and simple we are, we won't. It fries me. Farmers have always been "green" yes, there have been times of corporate greed and careless activity, when there is money involved there is always that potential, Actually read the history books and its the college boys with their fixes for the uneducated dirt farmer that have screwed things up and got us into messes. For the most part the first guy that cares about the environment is the fellow who lives by it. Screw it up and your done, out of business. Not to mention not too many people work like farmers do, no guaranteed time off, no weekends at the beach, and then trash the very place they work in, live in.

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Quit squawkin about the price of food on your table, compared to everything else, as long as you're not falling for that "organic" hoax, the price of food is ridiculously cheap. And you can bet your boots the farmer man sitting on the tractor or busting ice isn't getting the hog's share of any increases you saw lately. That, as usual, goes to the huckster that plants himself between the real producer and the ever gullible consumer, convincing the consumer that his services of interference are needed. What a load of dung. Oh if only someone could figure up a food insurance policy, now there would be some money makin' ventures without having to get your hands dirty, just your soul and who cares any more how dirty that is.

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Wow, what is that two nearly unrelated rants, a couple of hinted at ones and some smashed little toes in one post that started out about my new ceiling. Time to put down the lap top and do some bead work or knitting eh?

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Well you have a good evening Dear Reader, hope I didn't spoil your dinner of organic milk and heirloom sustainable broccoli that you paid four bucks a pound for.

Wow

I've been going in and out all day listening to the different retellings and rebroadcastings of the Lunar Landing. It is so amazing that we, man, did that with the limited tools that we had at the time.

The girls, while they were around have been getting an earful that is for sure.

So the moon pies were delightful but not moon pie-ish enough for me. I will be working on a better recipe. The one I made today were little cake mounds, to much of a lump for me. And I will be coating my next ones with chocolate, hello these were naked. The filling was to loose, it was not marshmallowy enough. Norrine's DIL gave me a great idea. I will just make marshmallows from scratch and cut them to fit. Thanks for the great idea!

But hey, these were good, (if you weren't expecting a moon pie). The texture of the overly cakey cookie (they were like cup cake tops) was very lunar so it was very fun to have them at our party. Likewise the Tang. Fun to have it at the party, the rest of the little jar will go into the cupboard and await your arrival at the continual party. Dirt said it would be good with a little alcohol in it. Hmmm, I think I would feel bad for the poor alcohol.

But back to the reason for the party. What a feat! What an amazing time to be alive.

Yes, Kathy and other inquiring minds, Buzz Aldrin celebrated communion and recited John 15:5 when he and Armstrong landed on the moon. I recall reading that he even jotted down Psalm 8:3-4. "When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?"

That had to be one heck of an experience above and beyond just being there.

Buzz Aldrin wrote about it in his book and some of the reenactments have depicted it. Unfortunately NASA felt they had to keep it quite after that anti-God lady with all the M's in her name put up such a stink over the men quoting from Genesis in a previous orbiting of the moon. The courts through out her suit of NASA but those at NASA were still nervous, so the men could not express their own faith on subsequent trips.

Have a very good night Dear Reader, sorry no picture of my little Granny Two Feet tonight, too much outdoor work and kitchen duty. See you tomorrow!

John 15:5-8 "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

Fly Me to The Moon

Two weeks ago I came up with a great idea to have a party for the fortieth anniversary of the moon landing! Man, two weeks goes by fast!

Having not realized that days were actually passing, I got to Saturday and said, "Aw Sacagewea."

I was going to have homemade moon pies for desert and Tang. I thought it would be fun to put dinner in little bags that everyone would have to suck their meal out of. Remember? The big thing was that when we grew up (I was ten at the time) we would be eating food out of tubes every day like the astronauts, and riding in things that looked a lot like a few of the new cars that I would never be caught dead in, well maybe if someone gave me one I might use it.

Dirt has promised to save a little of my day and buy me some marshmallow creme so I can make homemade moon pies and I hope he can find Tang in the store. Do they even make the stuff anymore? Even though I forgot to send out invitations so all my friends could be here and enjoy my silly idea, I still get to celebrate what was a great moment in history for me, for all of us I'm sure.

I was ten years old and the future was huge. My family went camping during the time the brave men were headed to the moon and my dad, not willing to miss such a great occasion, took along a little tv. The place we went to actually had electrical hook ups and we got reception! (I can't get my cell phone to work so well when we go camping)

That night around the campfire I heard so many stories, of how far we had come and how far we were going. The special treat, my grandmother was along on the trip with us and she really had some perspective on how far we had come.

While I make my moon pies tomorrow I'll see if I have any pictures of my grandma I can put up for you. She was a little girl living in a Soddy in South Dakota before her family made it to the Okanogan area. Her husband, my grandfather on my dad's side, drove the Nighthawk stage coach between Washington and Canada. Some sixty, fifty years later, next to the campfire that night, she could see her grandchildren living and traveling in outer space. She was excited for us. Hey Grandma, maybe in ten, twenty more years or so, who knows, time goes by fast and technology seems to go even faster.

Really, we have come far, maybe not as far as we thought, no dinner out of plastic tubes, no walking the dog in a spacesuit, but in some cases we have come farther than our imaginations took us back in nineteen sixty nine.

Hey, if you still feel like celebrating later on I'm sure the tang comes in a large can, we won't drink it all tomorrow, and moon pies are quick to whip out. I'd be more than happy to put the garden tools down if you want to stop by for a belated moon landing party this summer. Maybe we could watch Blast From the Past or something like that.

By the way did you know that Buzz Aldrin took communion on the moon? That would be so cool. How close did he feel to God at the moment eh?

Did You Know That Story?

Taps has always been a favorite of mine. I suppose it comes from many years in Bluebirds and Campfire Girls then years as a Girl Scout leader and camp counselor. Even as a little bluebird we sang it at the end of every meeting, and what camp would be complete without taking down the flag in the beautiful light of dusk to the sound of taps being sung by a strong group of girls dirty with trail dust, fish slime, and campfire ash, but happy and satisfied?

So those of us here at Vicktory Farms will be joining in the Moment of Remembrance at three o'clock. But at nine thirty we will sing taps as we retire the colors for the day.

In 1862 Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was near Harrison's Landing, Virgina. In the evening he heard the moanings of a soldier, so he personally went out into the gunfire on his belly and dragged the wounded young man back to his encampment. When he reached safety he then realized that the soldier who had died was a Confederate soldier, but when he looked at the face he recognized it as the face of his own son whom, as far as he knew, was studying music in the South.

He tried to get a full military burial for his son but because the son was of enemy status the father's request was granted only partial. He was only allowed one bugler and in need of music, the father handed the bugler a scrap of paper from his own son's pocket with a few song notes scratched upon it. Those song notes? The notes of Taps.

That my Dear Reader is the hardship of war; the high price of civil freedom, preservation of unity, and relief of the oppressed.


When you are being patriotic today, please remember some flag etiquette. In a nut shell the flag should not be shown disrespect by touching the ground, being held or flown inappropriately. It nor a facsimile of it should be worn as clothing or carried as a bag. The likeness of a flag should not be used as advertisement, or on napkins, paper plates or such as would be discarded after temporary use.



I find it amazing how many times the flag code is blatantly broken, not just at protests and by unpatriotic citizens but by those who claim to be intense lovers of what the flag stands for. I'm not talking about the hard to remember details like does the union go to the right or the left when hung on a wall, but the stuff that is obvious like clothing, napkins, tablecloths and the like printed to look like the flag. Drove my dad nuts and it drives me nuts, that in our efforts to be ultra-patriotic we end up actually making a mockery of the flag and its beauty. And then by doing so, sully the memory of those who have fought and died beneath its grand colors.

I'm Up, I'm Out

Hey check it out, I'm up, dressed (that alone is a miracle because I can do a lot of things in my jamies, except go to the store, even out door chores
'cause I have a rain suit sitting right over my boots, fireman style)

Dirt took the girls with him today to the areoplane fest, so I was greeted with a blast site in my kitchen, dining room and living room. (We didn't have a living room when I was growing up, instead we called the room with the couch and easy chairs the front room.) The mess was caused by the fact that while we were at our friends house last night their children were here. The girls are like me, when you have company who wants to clean, you can do that when you have been abandoned to yourself.


But in a matter of minutes, minutes I tell you, I consolidated the entire mess into the sink and dirty dish counter,


And the garbage.

So my peninsula counter is clean now,

And so is this counter, (isn't the towel ucky looking, but this is my seed sprouting station and the seeds drip brown water. I'll change it today when I start a new batch of sprouts.)


And this counter is clean, trust me they had every counter completely trashed. Ahhh and you can see I have even pressed my morning coffee and a cup or two is already missing. That's because I had a cup while making my bed, and tidying up and the second cup is


for my banana cream pie breakfast. Dear Reader are you really going to force my hand at rationalization... What do you have for breakfast? A couple of eggs, some sort of grain product, maybe with a little butter on it, a glass of milk and some fruit? What do you suppose is in my banana cream pie? So there you go, a fine breakfast food and because it is homemade, from scratch mind you, there are no hideous chemical stabilizers to destabilize my brain and stabilize the chub on my middle parts.


While I dined in relative solitude, the ratters are here with me today, I took time to go through the seed drawer for today's gardening endeavors,

and to sit with a book that I need to consult for my menu plan, thanks to the reverse psychology of LindaSue, (I secretly think Dirt contacted her to phony up that whole thing about menu and budget so that I would open my big encouragement mouth and then feel the shame of pinballness myself).

Oh and I'll take a few minutes this morning before I head out to weed and prune, and read a little smack down from the ultimate in smack downers. A.W. Tozer. Ow ow ow, is all I gotta say.

After reading Tozer and dealing with me wee personal life, I definitely need to make sure I am feeding my brain an anti depression diet. You know, if family members and near family members would quite making it a habit of dying in the fall and winter and if other people who's souls I care for deeply would quit being burdened in the fall and winter, maybe, just maybe, I could have an early spring that isn't spent pulling myself out of depression.

But what the heck, you know it is George Washington's birthday today. Man he is old. I was reading up on him last night and how he escaped death constantly, bullet holes in his jacket, hat shot off his head, two horses shot out from under him, and that was just one day. Not just on the battlefield did he defy death, he also had many bouts of sickness, any one of which was known to be deadly. Clearly one might say that he was destined to be our first leader.

There were many very interesting bits of information that I read last night and hopefully later today I will find a little book that he wrote on civility to share with you Dear Reader, but of interesting note to me last night in my middle of the night research, was something I did not know. George Washington suffered depression. Thomas Jefferson essentially called him Gloomy Gus, his exact words: “in all aspects of his life, [Washington] was inclined to gloomy apprehensions.” I knew that he was often thought of as a little sour but the historians that I have read in the past chalked it up to his ill fitting teeth.

Ran across a book of psychiatry last night that actually questions our use of antidepressant medicines, some of the writer's thinking was based on all the hugely important thinkers and leaders who suffered depression before the advent of brain chemistry altering drugs. Which on the average I agree with, I don't think we should all be so extremely "normal" but when you start staring at sharp objects and large trucks I think it is time to maybe change up the old brain chemistry a little so that you can think about things that are important. After all, God gave us food and drink to help us over come our ailments so we can get on with things.

Ahh, what the hay would I do with my time other wise? Gotta stay occupied with something eh? Why not occupy myself with the intricacies of brain chemistry? (I ate the pie, and drank my coffee before I started reading. I'm not dumb enough to think that I won't succumb to guilt, duhuh!) The brain chemistry reading is for a menu to start on Wednesday, I'm an ol' Catholic girl and the Church calendar says that the season of self-denial doesn't start 'till Wednesday. So until then it is Random Rhonda, Sugar Sally, and Budgetless Bambi all rolled into one Lazy Lanny at your service, what can I rationalize for you Dear Reader? Better think of something quick because fun and frivolity come to a screeching halt on Ash Wednesday!

Things have thawed out and the sun is still shining, (liar liar pants on fire little mister weatherman) so I can go grab myself some vitamin D and mood boosting sunlight, and so that Dirt will be happier with me when he gets home, the dear man worries about my brain chemistry more than I do, so I oughta honor that eh?

And I am sure Dear Reader, that you have had enough of my run on sentence structure (is that structure if it is run on?) and liberal sprinkling of commas, so you are off the hook for a while. But I will be back, with some wit not wisdom, as usual, later today. Kiss, kiss, hug, hug (for my girl readers) and a "get out there and absorb the weather God gave you today!"

Did I Have Oatmeal In My Mouth? But Before You Answer That, Call the Police, I've Been Robbed!

Okay, that was a long title. But this is a really long post, so it should have a long odd title.

Dear Reader, please do not feel obligated to read it or even finish the whole thing once you start. I do not hold that you must belong to the clean plate club around here, I would be sad indeed if I knew I caused indigestion. I only desire that you have fun (well that and grow in Christ and tell me when I am not). So if you have somewhere else to go, something fun to do, go do it, this is no place for you to be today.




I was robbed this afternoon. I'm sure it would barely make it as a misdemenor but it is upsetting none the less.

It was no burglery either, this woman, young woman, walked boldly into my house today and ripped me off. The item was only worth twenty-five bucks but the feeling of helplessness that overcame me was awful. I have never felt anything like it.

Not to mention she chatted with me as if it was no big deal. The boldness these days.

I was going to sell Christmas Kitty's brother in the next week or two and instead this woman just came and took him. And if she thinks that bringing me some fluffy coffee-esque drink from her place of business and a pound of coffee beans makes up for the theft she has got another thing coming. I get those from her anyway, almost once a month, for nothing. And now somehow she thinks waltzing in here with a coffee in her hand entitles her to waltzing out with my product!

I'm telling you, children, even grown ones have no respect these days. And her sister, Anna, so willing to aid and abet. What is this world coming too?

And on top of that she probably won't name him what he is supposed to be named. It will be another "Questie" aka "I Have A Question" debaucle but at least Mr. Woolsey's people paid for him, paid for the right to ignore my better naming skills. But this chick, an ex Vick Chick, just hauled "Seven Dirtson" outa here with a snicker about his name.


Come on folks, who of you can deny that that is clearly a seven on his chest and that he is sporting a goatee thingy that looks just like Dirt's. On top of that, those close to Dirt know all about his freaky attachment to the number seven, the number of completeness. This is a complete cat! And she just took it. I'm not so sure she even said thank you. I know her husband won't. (I'm thinking he is saying something entirely different tonight actually, poor guy.)

You know, now that I think about it, I'll bet I coulda gotten way more for him. Mildred, how much do you think they got for Heartkun? I bet he didn't go for no stinking twenty-five bucks and how hard is it to find heart-shaped stuff, Sharilyn, at It's A Heart Rock Life, finds heart shaped stuff all over the place. She has a zillion things heart-shaped. Anybody out there got a blog about finding seven-shaped stuff? I don't think so.

And wouldn't that be cool, stuff shaped like the number for completeness. You could go freaky with all the hidden meaning of that, so clearly the fact that no one has a blog about seven-shaped stuff indicates that there are not any random not-really-sevens-seven-shaped items out there and therefore my cat that was stolen from my house today is highly valuable. I'm thinking grand theft valuable.

Add on to that that he has an uncanny resemblance to the master of the house he was born in, who has an eccentric fondness for seven, the number of completeness and you've got a million dollar cat theft performed today. (Or is that "who" supposed to be a "whom"? I always have problems with that problem, I think it should be "whom" 'cuz it refers not to the subject but it just sounds weird. Help me out Kathy, you are good at that "who" "whom" stuff)

Oh well, I suppose because I cheerfully waved good-bye to her and handed her the shots for the cat she has at home, it would be hard to pin this grand theft on my second oldest daughter, Michelle, I suppose it really wouldn't make sense and no one would understand me. Kind of like when I wrote my last post. I musta had oatmeal in my mouth cause somebody did not understand me.




No, Wingmaster, I will not be drinking any of Dirt's Appletini disguised as wine while thinking of politics. Clearly even having had it in the home and perhaps previously drinking it (I reserve the right to retain deniablity) has caused me to be terrible at getting my point across.

Daisy, I appreciate your encouragement and support but clearly I am not a very good writer even though you are so kind to tell me that sometimes.

Because in my post on Thursday I could have sworn that I did not make any reference to my being fearful.

I could have sworn I did not say that I hated anyone, including anyone in the current President's political party, of which I am a registered member and have, up until this year, voted as such (or for some third party party) in Presidential elections since I was eighteen.

I could have sworn that I never denied the Soveriegnty of God, in this or any other post, and in fact stated something to the effect that I was glad I knew Him because He never changes and my salvation rests with Him, in Jesus, not my government no matter who is at the helm.

I could have sworn that I explicitly said that I was not talking about policies like: two wars, the economy, the creation of gitmo, Americans torturing prisoners, illegal phone tapping of Americans, the lowering of taxes, increases in spending or abortion or the disregard of the rights of certain citizens.

I could have sworn that I said that by actually saying-writing: "I'm not at this point even really speaking of his policies, policies that include spending ridiculous amounts of money on programs shown to be corrupt and hindering at worst or ineffectual at best, or having us spend government funds for people choosing foolishness and the murder it takes to dispose of the resulting inconvenience. I'm speaking of something far more insidious. "

So I must have had oatmeal in my mouth or sumpin' because Don is really nice guy (an opinion based on reading his blog) who is in the eduction field, has cool chicks (baby chickens), and a georgeous barn and builds really nice picnic tables for his school's fundraisers.

So I guess I owe an apology to anyone else who misunderstood what I was saying. If anyone thought that I was saying that our nation is perfect just the way it is, I am sorry because I know it is not. But it has also done some amazing things in the past and the basic ideology that defines America is a darn good one and one that has helped her through her mistakes and has enabled corrections which are by no means complete.

And don't we all misunderstand one another most of the time?

Sometimes I become so frustrated at the misunderstandings that I come away with when I read something. If I would just slow down and take a good look at something I am sure that I would not misunderstand half of what I do. Like how I misunderstood, I'm sure, that I was being told that I have the power, little ol' me, to thwart all the good leadership President Obama could give us because I have a closed spirit. (What is a closed spirit? I think I do have one because it is hopefully soley under the ownership of the Triune God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, so I guess that would be closed because I have no intention of selling it to anyone else.)

So clear over here, all the way across this huge great country of ours, I have the ability to make Obama a bad leader, because I have a closed spirit because I think, based on analysis of his own words and history, that he has some dangerous things up his sleeve. Now that is just a crazy idea so I really must have misunderstood that comment.

Because if Obama is a great leader, I cannot stop him. I would certainly not even want to. The idea is kinda funny because my closed spirit is the same spirit that leads me, nay commands me then leads me, to I pray that he is a good leader and that he will listen to the God he claims to follow, the very same God that my spirit is sold out to. So clearly I misunderstood that comment.

But thank goodness I just write on this here (well and two other) blog(s), and that I don't write anything important. It is a good thing that no one is forced to read my incoherant mush mouth writings, unless it is their funny bone forcing them to read it for my ridiculous ideas.

I usually don't write follow up on comments that bother me, but really all joking aside this one really touched me because it really made me feel misunderstood. But unfortunately I am a slow learner, very very very slow. So it will take me a few more outspoken posts that someone is going to misunderstand that I will feel I need to clarify, before I shut up about our country and just write sweet little posts about skinning moles.

Which isn't to say that people only mis-read what I say on these serious political-ish type posts. But I usually never feel the need to clarify when someone says cake when I wrote that I made a pie or calls my sheep chickens or wonders why my son Anna rides a quad.


If there is only one thing Dear Reader that I hope you know about me is that my hope lies with God and God alone. And that hope is very different from the hope that says "I hope the weather is nice tomorrow," or "I hope Obama is a good leader." Because I will stake my life on my hope in God but I will not stake my life on the weather or a leader, although I hope that if I feel it is God directed I would be willing to lay down my life for my country. Please understand that my political concern is not that I think that the beauty of my life depends on who is in office, locally, nationally or otherwise. Any beauty or comfort or assurance in my life comes from God.

Also Dear Reader, I wish to put to rest the idea that I am afraid. I am not fear-filled. My trust in God prevents me from being afraid. However, I can recognize a dangerous situation. (Some might call it discernement.) I can recognized that it is a little more dangerous for me to attempt to stand on the top rung of my sixteen foot ladder than it is for me to do so on my ten foot ladder. But I am not afraid of my ladder, (okay, my adrenaline surges when I look down but I'm not afraid.)

It is dangerous for my kids to walk on ice that is not tested, but I am not afraid of the frozen pond. It is dangerous for a leader to go unchecked and for nearly everyone to say no one can say anything critical of him, but I am not afraid of leaders or even afraid of those who are unwilling to be critical of a current leader but I can choose to not read their anti American rhetoric.

But I am not afraid. I trust God no matter how bad things look or actually become. I have nothing else.

Have I Ever Been Gone So Long Before?

I'm outta sorts, I have written so many posts in the last few days. But none have shown up here.

I have even tried, desperately tried, to write silly willy nilly posts about pruning, cats, (not pruning cats, pruning trees and watching cats), nutty dogs, hard jobs, good friends, bad scenes (the naked bottom of a trifle bowl), homemade pizza, frozen water, wild birds, new cake recipes, downloading books from the library and how they are "returned." I have a ton of things to tell you, to joke with you about and I even have a huge list of daily thoughts about God and exhortations for both you and I Dear Reader, to become better at following Him, hearing Him. But all those posts are drafts, or ended up stuck on my One Note.

Somehow in all those posts amid the joking about dogs and girls are snide comments about our new President. Many of them entirely juxtaposed and non sequitur. But un-deleatable. Yet un-Publish Post-able. So there lays my quagmire of no posts as of late.

If only I could get my hands on a glass of kool aid that is a flavor I like, I could drink deeply then, chug away at the mind numbing, moderate-education erasing fluid that millions upon millions of my country men have draught down into their gullets to course through their veins and block their brains from clear reasonable thinking on at least the level that we would expect from a junior high student.

"And yet, they were willing to put all they were and all they had on the line - their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor - for a set of ideals that continue to light the world. That we are equal. That our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness come not from our laws, but from our maker. And that a government of, by, and for the people can endure. It was these ideals that led us to declare independence, and craft our constitution, producing documents that were imperfect but had within them, like our nation itself, the capacity to be made more perfect." Barak Obama, from an inauguration week speech.

He says wonderful things such as this and our nation's mind goes numb, forgetting who is saying this or because of who is saying this, we look no further for hints of what the man holds as truth. I'm not at this point even really speaking of his policies, policies that include spending ridiculous amounts of money on programs shown to be corrupt and hindering at worst or ineffectual at best, or having us spend government funds for people choosing foolishness and the murder it takes to dispose of the resulting inconvenience. I'm speaking of something far more insidious.

In spite of what he has said in the above paragraph he goes on to say within the same speech:
"And yet while our problems may be new, what is required to overcome them is not. What is required is the same perseverance and idealism that those first patriots displayed. What is required is a new declaration of independence, not just in our nation, but in our own lives - from ideology and small thinking, prejudice and bigotry - an appeal not to our easy instincts but to our better angels."

Echoing from an October speech where Barak Obama said, “This is not a time for ideology; this is a time for common sense."

Hate to break it to his speech writers and him, that in America, common sense American style is ideology. He addresses it himself in most of his train speech where he waxes poetically about the perseverance and dedication that the first Americans had "for a set of ideals that continue to light the world." That, my Dear Reader, is ideology.

He brings it up in the pejorative and hopes that it can be slipped in because some where in the backs of our minds, ever so subtly, we remember the word "ideologues". And then we too will jump on the band wagon of being free from ideologies, and then he will slowly drop from his speech the "ideals that continue to light the world."

He begins to set up the opportunity to shame the citizenry for their holding onto ideas and aims that build their comprehensive vision, their way of thinking as a nation built on certain principles, that he may then, after all vestiges of American Revolutionary desires are stripped away, embed his ideologies, but they will not be as cohesive, they will be more like not having any ground under us at all. It will be destructive to the very core that we have come to know is America.

This is the same trick that Napoleon Bonaparte contrived when he turned the term ideologies onto those he call ideologues, oddly enough he used it against those in his days that were considered liberal, his opponents. To discredit and shame them into silence. Ideology, ideals are bad, so said Napoleon Bonaparte and so now says Barak Obama.

By calling for "freedom from ideology" in one speech and "declaration of independence, not just in our nation, but in our own lives - from ideology" in others, he is setting in our brains, should we care to allow him to serve up his kool aid, that we are not to hold fast to concepts that this country was built on. He is laying the road to shredding out of our minds the very things that make us American. He will redefine us in the future as a undefinable androgynous amorphous blob of collective human flesh at his disposal.

And he has already done so. I have no idea what this person's past integrity was like, I just recently added them to my reader list because I was looking for more farm blogs to read. But they are no longer on my list. I do not mind those who are hoping that the future will be made brighter by a new fresh face at the gate. I do not mind those who truly believe that the road to freedom is isolationism and thievery on either side of the isle, what I mind is a person plowing American soil with this thought in his or her head:

"We have waited for this moment in time when we can be so proud of our country. For many, it's our first experience of authentic patriotism. At last we are able to hold up our heads as Americans. We have spoken; democracy is indeed a reality." An unnamed blogger speaking of the inauguration of Barak Obama.

What a display of self-indulgent, short-sited, un-educated understanding of America. Clearly they have been drinking from the Cup-of-Michelle. Can't wait to see how Democracy works without freedom of speech.

I said last spring, perhaps not on this blog but in person, that this man is dangerous and I say he still is. Not for his policies that can easily be changed but for his shaming our country into giving up its profound, distinct and noble ideals that make up its ideology. He will do it not thorough anything we can fight by vote except in our own person, because he will do it through his sleep speech, speeches designed to leave our eyes open and our hands clapping all the while it puts our mighty brain to sleep. And yes, he is free to use speech but I hope that, unlike the blogger quoted above, we are not willing to succumb to his sleep speech.

As a Christian who happens to be American, I know that no one can strip away from me what is the ultimate in importance. That said, I can also see how unfortunate it is that we are willing to shame all the good that this country has meant for the last two-hundred years because we are about to get a cookie. I am ever so thankful that I know my God, because I'm not so sure I will recognize my country in eight years, and I am glad that my salvation does not rest in such a fragile thing as two-hundred years of Democracy

A Good Idea

My father liked good ideas. He was always remarking on new things that were being built, or new ingenuities that were coming out. He had a positive outlook on things, and did not appreciate the doom and gloom that seems to pervade every generation.

When I was young it was the Communists and the nuclear bomb. My father instilled in me that no matter who tried to take over the world and run your life they could never own your heart and soul. It was not for sale or take over, unless you wanted it to be. I always knew that I could withstand anything, and no one could take from me what was most important.

Even the nuclear bomb, more years were stolen by the worry than by the bomb itself.

My father was a positive man and encouraged positive attitudes in us. Positive was the fuel that we ran on. He was a small business owner and I do believe that if he had not had a positive outlook on his world that he would not have had the success that he did.

In that spirit of looking at the positive I listened the other night to "nut job radio" and it wasn't too nutty that night. I believe it was Ian Punnett back on the third of this month. Talking Paradigm Shifts.

When I was in college taking Philosophy of Science we had to write our final paper on what we saw as a paradigm shift that had just occurred or was occurring. I don't quite remember what my paper was on but the concept of a paradigm shift stuck with me like glue. That and the concept of Gestalt moments. But you see I love change and these two things are all about change.

So when Ian Punnett was going to be talking to the guy who took the concept of Paradigm shift from the world of science to the rest of the world my brain perked up.

But then what I got out of the rest of the night was far more than tripping down memory lane and listening to something akin to a college class lecture on the beauty of seeing paradigm shifts. A term that I find so very popular right at the moment I am sure that I needn't stop to define it, I hope that is okay.

What this fellow, Joel Barker's ,whole point was is that we need to be looking for positive ingenuities in our lives. We always seem to focus on the negative like a moth to a flame, the negative attracts us. Focus on what is going wrong with the world and we miss the good stuff. The good stuff, the solutions, are on the back page, but we have worn ourselves out with the front page doom and gloom before we even get to the back page in order to see the good stuff for what it is.

Joel Barker would like to encourage all of us to take sometime to find out a little about all the positive stuff that is happening, so he put together a blog about the positive innovations that are coming out right now. Stuff that could fix most of the mess. (not all of it can be fixed and Jesus warned us of that clear as day).

Go see some of the cool things that he has found to put on his blog, things that will be making a big difference soon. His list of stuff even got me to thinking about some of the stuff not on his blog. Like mushrooms that can clean up toxic soils and such. Leaving the soils perfectly fine and on top of that not being toxic themselves. Where does all the toxin go?

Any woo. Joel suggests that we talk about these positives more often. Talk about them with our kids, like my dad always did, talking about how this country was built on ingenuity. I think we adults need to think about these things a little more instead of wrapping our heads around the depressing seemingly insurmountable garbage that we think about all the time.

Yeah we know this world is going to come to an end as we know it. It is in the playbook. This does not last forever. But none of us know when that is going to be. For generations and generations we have constantly "knew" that the last days were upon us. Well ya they are but so far we still are here and we still gotta get up in the morning stick the toothbrush in our mouth and our feet in our shoes and get on with getting on.

So how 'bout we do it with just a more positive outlook. Then if it does keep going for a while longer it will be a brighter going. And if it is all over soon, well heck that is the best part of the story ain't it. That we get a new heaven and earth and new bodies and an eternity with our God!? And no matter what lies between here and there, God is with us the whole way through. He hasn't just said He'll meet us on the other side. He is here with us, going the distance with us .

So please, put this_blog on your reader or your side board, however you keep track of things to read. And share the phenomenal things God is showing man how to do, with your kids, your tired discouraged spouse or your sad neighbor. Get off this kick of dwelling on the negative.