Doug

Stanley Garrison wrote:

"Somewhere, somewhere in Time's own Space;
There must be some sweet pastured place;
Where creeks sing on and breezes blow,
Some Paradise where horses go.
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again."



My rewrite:
Somewhere, somewhere in Time's own Space
There must be some sweet Heavenly place;
Withe trees to mark and squirrels to chase.
Withe stinky stuff in which to roll;
Some Paradise where all dogs go.
For by the love that guides my pen
I know that great dogs live again.
8/8/2019

2019 Journey

January 21-28

Just As I Am Without One Plea

Possibly second only to Amazing Grace, thanks to the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association; one of the most recognized Christian Hymns of all times.

Written in 1834 by a sweet poet named Charlotte Elliot (1789-1861). Music was added in 1836 by William Bradbury (1816-1868). Inspired by John 6:37 “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” According to Miss Elliot's sister, Charlotte “became deeply conscious of the evil in her own heart, and...she suffered much mental distress under the painful uncertainty whether it were possible she could be saved.” Until she had an encounter with a Dr. Malan of Geneva in May 1822. He observed how she was held back from the Saviour by her own self saving efforts he said, “Charlotte, cut the cable, it will take too long to unloose it; cut it, it is a small loss.” He than bade her to give “one, look silent but continuous at the cross of Jesus.” Verse one came from her heart immediately and permanently. She spent the next 40 years continuing to write and publish Christian spiritual poetry.

Modern day listeners will no doubt remember this hymn as being sung by various choirs at the countless altar calls given by the Rev. Billy Graham at his many crusades.

Verse 1

Just as I am, without one plea But that Thy blood was shed for me.

And that Thous bidst me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Verse 2

Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my sould of one dark blot,

To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Verse 3

Just as I am, though tossed about With many a conflict, many a doubt,

Fightings and fears within, without,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Verse 4

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind; Sight riches, healing of the mind,

Yes, all I need, in Thee I find,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Verse 5

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because Thy promise I believe

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

https://youtu.be/yuNFAB4mTn8

2019 Journey

January 14-20

He Giveth More Grace

Written by Annie Johnson Flint (1866-1932) whose life story is similar to Fanny Crosby, another great hymn writer. Annie was 3 years old when her mother died in childbirth, though the baby girl survived. The girls' father, suffering from an incurable disease, gave the two girls up for adoption to the Flint family. Annie came to faith in Jesus at the age of 8 and began writing poetry around that same time. She took a job as a teacher at age 18, but severe arthritis caused her to resign. She was faced with a lifetime as an invalid; in a wheelchair. She turned her energies to writing poetry and her most famous one became a hymn when Hubert Mitchell penned the music. The words to this hymn are drawn from the following scriptures:

2 Corinthians 12:9 “For He has said to me, 'My Grace is sufficient for you; for my strength is perfected in weakness.' Therefore gladly would I boast about my weakness that the power of Christ can rest on me.”

James 4:6 “but He gives more grace. Therefore He says, 'God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.'”

Isaiah 40:29 “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

From her position of weakness Annie Johnson Flint knew what she was writing about.

He Giveth More Grace

Verse 1

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater.

He sendeth more strength when the labors increase.

To added affliction, He addeth His mercy

To multiplied trials His multiplied peace.

Verse 2

When we have exhausted our store of endurance;

When our strength is failing 'ere the day is half done;

When we reach the end of our hoarded resources

Our Father's full giving is only begun.

Chorus

His love has no limit, His grace has no measure

His pow'r has no boundaries known unto men.

For out of His infinite riches in Jesus, He giveth and giveth and giveth again.

Verse 2 is especially meaningful to me as my grandmother Anderson quotes it in a letter she wrote to her nieces during her later years. She writes about the deaths of her husband “my life's partner” and her son, but follows those sad words with the words of hope she sees in verse 2 of He Giveth More Grace.

I found this video of a family choir and its adorable director singing the hymn.

https://youtu.be/zG7i6SgUwF8

2019 Journey

January 7-13

Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty

Written by Reginald Heber (1783-1826) in 1826. The lyrics were written to be used on Trinity Sunday; a Sunday set aside to celebrate the Triune Nature of God. I don't remember any teachings about Trinity Sunday in any of the churches I attended. That doesn't mean there were no teachings, maybe I wasn't paying attention. Observed on the first Sunday after Pentecost by “Christian churches the world over” according to one of my sources.

I don't know if the lyrics were spoken or sung traditionally, but in 1861 (35 years after Heber penned the words), John Bacchus Dykes (1323-1876) set the words to music, based on a tune then known as NICAEA.

The words are drawn directly from Revelation 4:1-11. Here it is, followed by my own observations:

Verse 1

Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!

Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;

Holy, Holy, Holy! Merciful and mighty!

God in three persons, blessed Trinity!

Verse 2

Holy, Holy, Holy! All the saints adore Thee,

Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;

Cherubim and seraphim, falling down before Thee,

Which wert and art and evermore shall be.

Verse 3

Holy, Holy, Holy! Though the darkness hide Thee,

Though the eye of sinful man They Glory may not see;

Only Thou art Holy; there is none beside Thee;

Perfect in Pow'r in Love and Purity.

Verse 4

Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!

All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea;

Holy, Holy, Holy!merciful and mighty;

God in three persons, Blessed Trinity.

Verse 1: opening praise,  Revelation 4:8

Verse 2: This is what's going on in Heaven right now and for all eternity. Revelation 4:9

Verse 3: Perfect description of our perfect God: Perfect in Power= Holy Spirit; Love=God; "It's not what He does, it's who He IS" (Joyce Meyer) Purity=Jesus

Verse 4: Brings to mind Psalm 96:11-12 'Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad: Let the sea roar, and all its fullness: Let the field be joyful, and all that is in it. Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord.'

One more thought – it seems more than fitting that this is the first hymn in most of the hymnals I've used.

Here is a link to an arrangement presented by the First Plymouth Church in Lincoln, Nebraska. I appreciate the orchestra, but love the a Capella section. I noticed that they did alter some of the original lyrics. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/0SHDNs7Dt5M

2019 Journey

2019 Journey

I am embarking on a journey this year. A musical journey.

Although I appreciate much of the contemporary praise and worship songs, I find myself missing the Hymns I grew up with in the old Methodist Church and, later Presbyterian. So I am attempting to re visit and relearn, not only the words and music, but have found it fascinating to look into the background of the Hymn's origin; lyricists and composers.

The first week, (January 1-6) I explored and relearned “Great is Thy Faithfulness.”

Lyrics written in 1925 by Thomas Chisholm 1866-1960 and musical accompaniment by William M. Runyan 1870-1957

Based on Lamentations 3:22-24 'Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion ,” says my soul. Therefore I will hope in Him!”'

Chisholm later wrote, “My income has not been large at any time due to impaired health in (my) early years which has followed me until now. Although I mus not fail to record here the unfailing faithfulness of a covenant keeping God and that He has given me many wonderful displays of His providing care for which I am filled with astonishing gratefulness.”

Verse 1: Great is Thy faithfulness, o God my Father.

There is no shadow of turning with Thee.

Thou changes not, Thy compassions they fail not.

As Thou has been, Thou forever ill be.

Verse 2: Summer and winter and springtime and harvest;

Sun, moon and stars in their courses above

Join with all nature in manifold witness

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Verse 3: Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,

Thy own dear presence to cheer and to guide.

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow;

Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.

Chorus:

Great is Thy faithfulness;

Great is Thy faithfulness;

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided.

Great is They faithfulness, Lord unto me!

We didn't have an orchestra and our choir was significantly smaller, but this is a pretty respectable arrangement. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/EMACCtitfRw

Testing

Have been away for awhile, mainly because I forgot how to log in and my password. Took me awhile to figure it out. I have an idea for 2019. Tune in later - gotta go to my hair appointment.

Messy

I had a small hiking adventure of my own on Tuesday.

Be prepared to laugh at me.

I took Doug the big dog out for our usual morning stroll through a harvested corn field. After we left the house, strolled through the windbreak, crossed the 75 or so yards of empty cow pasture and a small creek, we walked along the west fence line of the corn field until we got to the north fence line, where we turned around and headed home. This gives us about a 1 mile walk.

I headed back toward the house. When I reached the wind break, I turned around and saw Doug running full speed ahead north along the creek, obviously chasing a trail. I yelled for him, but he chose to ignore me. Considering my husband would never forgive me if I let him run off with a pack of coyotes (I never did see what he was tracking, but it might have been a coyote) I had to go get him on the leash.

I headed through the cow pasture, picking my way through the puddles of water and the piles of manure. The farther north I got, the boggier the ground became. At one point, I sank into a puddle up to my ankles. So much for my good Keenes being waterproof! Up ahead, I saw Doug finally stopped and was looking back at me, though he refused to come to me. He was still looking to the north when I finally caught up to him and got him leashed.

Unfortunately, he had decided to stop in the wettest, muddiest area of the pasture. I looked around and thought I could see a way we could pick our way through the puddles back to solid ground. So we set out in a southwesterly direction. It wasn't long before the puddles got deeper and the mud got thicker. Just as I was thinking I might lose my shoes in the muck, my feet stuck fast and I went down face first. Now, I am up to my elbows in water, unable to pull my feet free of the muck.

I was having some very unChristian thoughts at this point.

I couldn't get my feet underneath me in order to stand up and when I tried to pushed myself up with my hands, they just sank deeper into the mud. It took all the strength I could muster to get myself into a standing position. I looked around and saw a pickup on the road, slowing down. It stopped and turned around in our driveway, so I'm wondering if he was taping my muddy struggle with his phone so he could post me and my muddy dog on FB. So far, I haven't seen anything.

We finally reached solid ground. Every stitch of clothing I was wearing was either wet or covered with mud and manure. Doug was only muddy on his legs & belly, but I spitefully made him stay on the porch while I got out of my clothes and showered.

So... when it started to rain on Wednesday and Thursday people were saying, “We sure needed the moisture.” I'm thinking... well you don't want to know what I was thinking!

Lyons, Nebraska 1960

It's September Sunday morning
And the sky is blue and fair.
The sun shines bright and warming,
Pealing church bells fill the air.

A beef roasts in the oven
We're all in our Sunday best.
The Preacher teaches about loving
Then we take our day of Rest.

There'll be no shopping done today
(We got that done last night).
All's quiet up and down the way
Main Street's shops are locked up tight.

That's how it looked when I was small
I'm thankful to have known:
Worship and rest for one and all

Sweet September Sundays long ago.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses...” Heb 4:15

Some 16 years ago, our old mother cat, whom we called Patches, disappeared for a few weeks and then one day she came strolling up to the house with a tiny little tortoise shell kitten – an only child. Patches was so named because the right half of her face and her right front leg were patched with golden tabby while the rest of her was calico. The kitten had no such coloring so we called her 'Patchless.'

Although I'm sure she felt it beneath her dignity, when Patches weaned her, Patchless adopted us as as her family and became a house cat.

We entertained each other for many years and kept each other company until a few months ago when we noticed a swelling on her face. We thought it was an infected tooth, but it turned out to be an inoperable tumor in her sinus. Dr. Hartwell, our vet, sent her home with us and we waited. We waited and watched the tumor grow and distort her face. Eventually, the hair around the swelling fell out and she began to get nosebleeds. In late January, we decided she was miserable enough and I made the appointment for her final visit to Dr. Hartwell.

January 29, I sat in the waiting room area with Patchless in her carrier on my lap. I couldn't pet her, so I held my finger through the screen door and she rubbed her face on it – both sides of her face, but more so on the side that wasn't swollen from the tumor. She meowed softly. Brandy, the vet's assistant came in smiling – she really has a beautiful, cheery smile and said, “We're ready.”

Dr. Hartwell welcomed me into the examining room with a gentle smile. “Who do we have here today?” He asked, opening the carrier and coaxing my old calico out. Dr. Hartwell is a tall man, over six feet, with large gentle hands.

“This is Patchless,” I mumbled.

Brandy took her by the scruff and held her still on the examining table. I stood by Brandy and placed my hands on Patchless' back, just wanted her to know I was there. She cried another little soft meow and crouched down. “It's okay, Mama kitty,” Dr. Hartell said as he applied a tourniquet to her right front leg and shaved off a patch of fur in order to locate a vein.


“She's purring,” Brandy said, rubbing her behind an ear.


Finished with his prep work, Dr. Hartwell inserted an IV needle into her leg and then filled a syringe with a clear liquid. He bent over the table and injected the liquid into my little cat.


I said, “Bye, bye sweetie pie.” She visibly relaxed. Brandy let go and quietly left the room. In only a matter of seconds, Patchless collapsed and Dr. Hartwell and I helped her lay down on her side.

Then she was gone. I kept petting her anyway. Dr Hartwell ran his hand down her side. Then he looked up to me and reached across the examining table and wrapped his arms around me, “I know how hard this is for you.” he said and I cried on his shoulder for a short time. It was at that moment, that I came to an understanding of why Jesus referred to the Holy Spirit as The Comforter.

In the ensuing weeks, Dr. Hartwell's phrase seemed to follow me. When confronted with a situation that gave rise to the temptation to respond to cruelty and anger with more cruelty and anger rather than kindness and forgiveness, (Rom 12:21) I felt the Spirit in me whisper, “I know how hard this is for you.”

Forcing myself to go the extra mile when I'd rather quit and rest: “I know how hard this is for you.”

Remaining “joyful in hope” when I'd rather sink into despair; “patient in affliction” when I'd rather cry out in pain; “faithful in prayer” (Rom 12:12) when I feel like no one is listening... “I know how hard this is for you.”

When confronting a weakness that I know in my head God has said His Grace is sufficient, (2 Cor. 12:9) I felt in my heart, “I know how hard this is for you.”

I don't know if Dr. Hartwell is a Believer, but I am pretty sure the words he spoke to me will stay with me for the rest of my life.

How the Sheep Spent the First Christmas

By Janell Carson

An EXPLOSION of light lit the sky one dark night

Giving sheep and their shepherds a terrible fright!

The shepherds were trembling, the sheep wanted to run

Didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t look fun.

Then an angel appeared in the sky, calmed their fears,

Saying, “The Son of God has been born near here.”

“We must go and see!” the shepherds cried with delight

And off they went dashing into the dark night.

The sheep looked around, getting very concerned,

Being left all alone was ba-a-ad they had learned.

Then another dear angel came walking among them

And they quieted down with the songs that he sung them.

When at last they were quiet and calm once again,

The angel said, “Please let me explain:

The child that was born in the stable in town

Is your Creator as babe in a manger come down.

“He’s starting out small and will need time to grow

And learn of this world and its joy and its woe.

So that’s where YOU come in,” he said to the sheep.

“So listen up good – this is no time to sleep!

“The ewes out among you can show what it’s like

To be fallen, cast down and in fear for your life.

He’ll learn how to help you get back on your feet

He’ll learn what you mean by the sound of your bleat.

“You ovines alone are the ones to convey

How dangerous it is to be gone astray

Away from your herd, lost and alone,

He’ll learn how to find you and bring you back home.

“He’ll see what it’s like to have His heart ache

When one lost lamb, the family tie breaks.

He’ll learn to rejoice and sing right out loud

When the one gone astray is back with the crowd.

“And a small flock of sheep is the one who can show

How the voice of their Master tells them which way to go.

He’ll learn what to say and to call you by name

And show you the way to the shelter again.

“You must also show what it takes to be brave

When you stand for the shearer and wait for your shave.

He will need to know this for a task He must do

The Father has sent Him, it really is true.

“The most serious lesson that He has to learn

Will be from you lambs, and this one concerns

The Passover Feast and your painful role in it

The atonement for sin, this Lamb will win it.

“So you sheep have been chosen to teach Him these things

Until His time comes and a dirge we must sing.

He knows you can do it or He wouldn’t ask.

In fact, he created you for just this task.

“Now don’t let His sacrifice make your hearts sad

Because what it will conquer will make all hearts glad.

God, with all people will be reconciled

And that will make all that He suffers worthwhile.”

And when he had said all that he’d come to say

The angel took flight and went on his way.

The sheep watched him go and then contemplated

All the angel had told them and then they just waited.

When their shepherds returned, in only a while

They were singing God’s praises and smiling big smiles.

Then up went the hand of one of the boys

Asking for quiet, he’d heard a small noise.

“What is it?” they asked him as he looked around.

But the source of the noise was not to be found.

“Must have been nothing,” he said with a sigh,

“But just for a moment, thought I heard someone cry.”

Merry Christmas

Living in CST

No. Not Central Standard Time, but Confused State, Terminally.


So, we morning people finally get our hour of daylight back today, November 3^rd. Here's how it happened at my house.


We have several clocks in our house: two in the kitchen, one in my sewing room, an alarm clock in the bedroom, one on the microwave, one on the coffeemaker, and a wall clock in the living room. Also, the ones in the computer and the cell phones.


I like to change the clocks early in the evening, rather than at bedtime, so I can start orienting myself to the change. I reset the living room clock around 5:30 while watching the comeback of the Century Cornhuskers last second win over Northwestern. That particular clock was about 5-7 minutes slow, but it didn't occur to me to correct that while I had it down and messing with the time.


One of the clocks in the kitchen is needing a new battery and the only time I think about that is when I'm glancing at it and I'll think, “I need to get a new battery for that clock.” And then, I promptly neglect to write it on a list. So I just turned that one around for the time being.


The clock on the microwave has been way off for a long time, because it bounces back to 00:00 anytime the thing is unplugged, which happens when I need to use that outlet for some other electric device, like the vacuum cleaner or electric mixer. The clock on the coffeemaker is correct, but I completely forgot to reset that one to the new time.


With help from the hubs, I got the bedroom clock reset and the alarm set for the time I actually wanted to get up today. I also like to use my cell phone for an alarm. Now the cell phone clock resets itself, but when I turned on the alarm function, I left the alarm set for the time I wanted to get up yesterday (4:30) instead of today (5:30). So, the cell phone alarm goes off at 4:30 and I look at it and think, “How come my cell phone didn't reset itself?” Well, it did, but since it can't read my mind, its alarm went off at the time it was set to go off. Then, I look at the bedroom alarm and it reads 4:30. Forgetting that we had reset it, I thought maybe it might be 5:30 and I'd better get up.


So I stumble into the kitchen to make coffee, and sure enough, the clock on the coffeemaker reads 5:30, the microwave says 3:25, the living room clock says 4:24. I know I didn't change the sewing room clock, so I didn't even go look at that one. The computer and cell phone both say 4:30 and, since they reset themselves, I have to believe them.



How did I ever get this done before I had a computer and cell phone?

Customer Service

I saw this quote on FB:


“Whoever said, ‘There’s no such thing as a dumb question’ never worked in Customer Service.” Well, I work in Customer Service, and here are a couple of things that happened recently:

Part of my job includes weighing packages and putting postage on them for mailing. A young lady approached me with a package to mail and said, “This is a birthday gift for my mother, but I don’t want her to know it’s from me until after she opens it. I want her to be surprised. Would you write her address on it for me? If she sees my handwriting she’ll know who it’s from right away.”

Always happy to oblige, while she answered a call on her cell phone, I wrote the address on the package, weighed it, applied the postage and placed it in our outgoing bin. “That will be $5.60,” I told her.

She lowered her phone, looked up at me and said, “Did you put my return address on it?”

“Ah… no,” I said.

“Well, you have to put my return address on it! What if it gets lost!?”

I wonder how surprised her mom was to receive a package from her daughter addressed to her in my handwriting?





We often get lost cell phones turned in to us and we usually let them sit on our counter and within a half hour or so, it rings and then we are able to explain to the caller that the phone they just called is in the lost and found at our store. They are usually able to contact the phone’s owner and get word to them about where their lost phone is waiting for them.

One day, a phone was turned in and after a couple of hours, it still hadn’t rung, so I picked it up, found the phone’s list of numbers and called the one labeled ‘Dad’. Dad answered and I said, “Hi, this is Janell at Customer Service and this phone was turned in to our lost and found. I found your number on the list as ‘Dad’. Did one of your kids lose a cell phone today?”

“Oh!” he said. “I’ll bet it was my son. I’ll give him a call and let him know where it is.”

“Okay, thanks. Good bye.” About 30 seconds later, the phone began to buzz and tweet and spin on my countertop. I answered, “Hello?”

“Hello?” I recognized the voice of the ‘Dad’ I had just spoken to. “Is John there?”

“Um…. no this phone is in the lost and found at my grocery store. I think I may have just spoken to you?”

“Oh! So you did. You have John’s phone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll try to call him and let him know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Another 30 seconds later, the phone began to buzz and tweet and spin. Caller ID said ‘Dad’.

I elected not to answer it.



This next one didn’t happen to me, but it’s too good not to include.

This happened shortly after the USPS first started issuing Forever Stamps. One of my co-workers, Bea, (not her real name) waited on a young lady, who requested to buy a Forever Stamp. The stamp was handed over and the young lady paid for it, placed it on a letter and dropped it in the out box. She turned to leave, but then turned back and said to Bea, “Now, how will the mailman know to get that stamp back to me?”

“What do you mean?” Bea asked.

“Well, it’s a Forever Stamp, right?”

“Yes.”

“How will I get it back when I need to use it again?”

“Ma’am, Forever Stamp just means that if you still have some of these,” holding up the familiar Liberty Bell stamp, “in your possession next time the price goes up, you won’t have to pay the increased cost. Uh… each stamp is only good for a one time use.”



My favorite one didn’t happen to me, either, but it’s too funny. It came from a computer telephone helpline worker. A caller wanted to know, “Where is the any key?”

Doodling

When some people doodle, they draw pictures. When I doodle, I doodle in words.

For instance, On an excruciatingly slow Sunday morning, I doodled the following on the pages of my grocery store ads.

On the page advertising pasta sauce –

Prego, Barrilla, Basilico, Ragu,

With meatballs, Alfredo or Parmesan cheese;

Or chicken or pesto, whatever you do

Don’t leave me out! Pass the pasta, please!

Don’t serve the spaghetti

Until it is ready.

Don’t let your poodles

Get into your noodles.

Mac & lasgne are best served with cheese

And lotsa meat is sure to please.

But nothing rhymes with orzo….

Tuna and noodles

Followed by streudel

I surely could eat

The whole kit and caboodle.

On the sherbet page –

Sherbet is yummy and fruity and cold

In a cone or a bowl with sprinkles on top

It cheers us up, both young and old.

It’s sweet and makes our taste buds “POP”!

On the snack page –

Does Curious George like Gatorade,

Turkey Hill tea or lemonade/

I’ll bet he’d like carrots in AE Dip

And Kemps ice cream singles and Itti Bitz,

Cookies and popcorn and gummy worms

Too much sweet stuff makes tummies squirm.

Peanut butter and Kettle chips

A slice of bread and a choice of dips;

A pat of butter and lots of jelly

Would be a treat for a hungry belly.

On the “Dollar Days” pages:

Dollar Days and taco shells,

Lunchables and cabbage,

Sour cream and chicken fries

Would crush tomatoes in the baggage.

Yabba Dabba Doo!

And pineapple, too!

Apricots, tomato soup

All for only 2!

By the picture of the Baby Wipes:

Psalm 127:3 “Children are a heritage from the Lord. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full.”

By the picture of the grilled cheese sandwich:

Matthew 4:4 “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.

On the vegetable page:

Daniel 1:12-15 “’Please test us for 10 days. Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then compare us with the other young men who eat the royal food, and treat us in accordance with what you see.’ So he agreed to this and tested them for 10 days. At the end of the 10 days they looked healthier and better nourished than the other young men who were eating the royal food.”

The Vidalia onion is the best thing to come out of Missouri since TS Eliot, Sara Teasdale, Bob Barker and Rush Limbaugh!

Corn is a-maize-ing!

By the picture of the applesauce:

Psalm 17:8 “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.”

The wonderful thing about tomatoes is

Tomatoes is wonderful things!

They make sauces divine

Ev-er-y time

For tomatoes lets rise up and sing!

By the bottled water:

Genesis 1:2 “And the earth was formless and void… and the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the deep.”

On the meat page:

I love steak.

Broiled, fried or baked.

But one on the grill

Gives me a thrill.

Did I mention that I love steak?

On the dairy page, by the eggs:

In Zoology, an egg is an “organic vessel in which and embryo first begins to develop.”

On the Wine & Spirits page:

Whiskey, vodka, wine and beer;

We’ve all had way too much, I fear!

We don’t hafta go home, but we can’t stay here

So get outta the car and let the sober one steer.

And finally:

A helpful smile in every aisle,

We’ll wait here while

You shop in style.

You can bring your child,

But if he is wild

We’ll put you on file

And the checkers and I’ll

Surely be riled

And our bouncer named Kyle

Will toss you in a pile!

Here is "Lonesome Lucy."

Her pasture mate, Bubba (at right below) has gone to a fine new home and Lucy needs a fearless teenager to take her in. Lucy is 7 years old, unregistered QH mare, (Poco Doc breeding), dark buckskin. Has had 60 days professional training, but is a bit green due to lack of time. She loves attention, and is very people friendly. Lucy is the one on the left in photo below. Stands well for the farrier. She will be a good mount for someone who can give her lots of trail time. Email me for more contact info.

(Email address is on horsetrailriders FB page.)

Truly, I don't want ot "get rid" of her - I just have to let her go.

So.. a garage sale I participated in ended on a hilarious note.

At the closing hour, Bonnie and her sister, Kathy loaded up the back of my pickup with unsold items to be donated to goodwill. “We’ll help you unload,” they both promised. By the time the loading was done, there was no room for a passenger in the front of the pickup. With a promise from Bonnie and Kathy to meet me there, I climbed in and headed to the goodwill store. Fortunately for me, the goodwill workers were available to help me unload. Meanwhile, back at Bonnie’s, Kathy was sitting in her car wondering, “Where the heck is Bonnie?” and Bonnie was sitting in HER car wondering, “Where is the heck is Kathy?” By the time they found each other, I was done unloading and came back to Bonnie’s in time to hear the story and got a huge laugh out of it!

"To everything, there is a season...

It looks like my season as a "cowgirl" has come to an end, due to financial concerns.

The following two horses are now for sale:

Bubba: 17 year old Bay Arabian Gelding. Registered with AHA. Trail horse. Has been on River City Roundup Northeast 7 times. Other rides we've been on several times: Weekend at Bernie's, Petersburg, The Grand Duke Alexis Rendevous. Been many times to Cunningham Lake, Two Rivers Park, Nottleman's at Macy. Does well in parades (unless firecrackers are involved.) Very gentle, good with kids and greenhorns. He is pictured below at left taking my elderly brother for a ride.

Lucy: 8 year old purebred UNREGISTERED Quarterhorse mare. Dark Buckskin. Has had 60 days professional training. Was imprinted at birth. Needs some trail time. I have her sire's bloodline papers for your examination. Lucy is pictured below at right, taking me for a ride.

Both are very good natured, people friendly, stand well for the farrier. Easy to catch, easy to load. Bubba, being Arabian, does not grow a very thick winter coat, so would be better if he can get in out of winter weather.

Prices very negotiable for the right home.



I love these horses.

Below: me on Lucy at left, a small cousin on Bubba at right:




Here we (me and Bubba) are at Petersburg in '08:



Here they are, just hangin' loose. Lucy at left, Bubba right:



Closeups.
Bubba:



Lucy:






Email me if you are interested.

Doug, the Dog:



A/K/A: The Mighty Haybale Climber.

Actually, it's more of a leap for him than a climb.
He must like this point of view because he gets up there a lot.

September 15-17, Emily and I drove to St. Louis, MO and went to the Joyce Meyer Love Life Women's Conference, along with 21,998 of our closest friends. We had worship times led by Israel Houghton and Cece Wynans; heard Joyce speak during most of the sessions and heard John and Stasi Eldredge. Can't begin to describe how refreshing it was. Hope to be able to go again sometime.
And since it was only a few blocks away from our hotel, we also went up in the Arch.
So here are some pics:

The Edward Jones Dome, where we attended the conference.


A view of the Dome from the Arch:

And - oh yeah - also where the Rams play football.

From the Arch: Home field of the St. Louis Cardinals:


From the Arch; The Old Courthouse, where the Dred Scott Decision was handed down:


Here is the Arch and some downtown buildings. The green dome on the right is the Old Courthouse.


One of the highlights of the trip for Em was spending Fri afternoon at Macy's with a 20% off coupon, compliments of Joyce.


Some sort of a weird double exposure thing that happened in the camera. I kinda like it, tho. Gotta love those 35 mm's.

Part 3
Visitors to 725 Custer Avenue

Just a little addendum to Part 2.
One thing I remember about living at 725 Custer Avenue is the people who “Just happened to be in town, so thought we’d stop by and say hello.” Mom & Dad always welcomed them with coffee and what ever else they could cobble together in a hurry.
Uncle Franty and Aunt Bernice: Uncle Franty was Francis Gatewood. I was as tall as him when I reached the age of 12 – one of my cousins once referred to him as a “tough old Banty Rooster.” In the 1920s, he was a boxer and hosted a “stable” at his home in rural Decatur, a place that trained young boxers and then sent them into Omaha to compete. He was a veteran of the Flying Tigers of WW II. Too short to be a pilot, he became a mechanic and kept those guys in the air. He once told me that he picked up a rock at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, put it in his pocket and it went around the world with him. Sure wish I knew where that rock was now. He literally (I assume) sailed the seven seas. He said being on a ship in the ocean was like being at the bottom of a bowl of water – you had to look up to see the horizon all the way around. He also worked for his dad as a thoroughbred race horse trainer.

Uncle Franty (and this makes me a card carrying Redneck) married his Aunt some time in the late 40s or early 50s. The story is that Bernice (we always pronounced her name so it rhymed with furnace) married my grandpa’s brother, Harry. This was her second marriage. They had two daughters and divorced, for reasons unknown to me. Bernice’s oldest daughter, Mary, wanted to learn how to ride horses, so she was sent out to the Gatewood farmstead to take riding lessons on certain weekends with her dad, my Great Uncle Harry. He would take her back to Omaha on Sunday afternoons. On one Sunday, Uncle Harry was not able to get her back to the city, so Uncle Franty was asked to fill in as Mary’s chauffer. Following this, Franty and Bernice began dating and later married. They never had any children of their own, But Uncle Franty raised Mary and her sister Wanda as his own. Uncle Harry, tragically, died of cancer when the girls were pretty young.

Ray & Tamsey: For most of my first 13 or so years, I thought Ray and Tamsey were my Aunt and Uncle. It turns out that Ray was my dad’s cousin, and not my uncle, although Dad once told me it was okay to call them Uncle Ray and Aunt Tamsey. When I knew them, they lived in Iowa, in a small town south of Sioux City. I have no idea where they might have been going when they dropped in to see us, but they usually stayed long enough for coffee, sandwiches and cookies in the mid-afternoon. Being “just a kid”, I usually said hello and then headed out to play with my friends. I must have overheard something during one of their visits, because I remember that for a long time, during my night time prayers (after “Godblessmommyanddaddymyrnasuzie, etc …andeveryoneondowntothegoldfish…) I added “Please bless my cousin Nancy and her husband and their children in Morrocco and please help them get back to America safely.” As hard as a try, I can’t recall what was going on in the lives of Nancy and M’Barak during that time. But, my prayers were answered because they eventually got back to Nebraska and raised their family here. It’s interesting to me that I can’t remember what was worrying me, but I do remember the prayer. I wonder how many of my prayers were answered that I don’t even remember praying?

A weekly visitor to 725 Custer Ave for a time via television was my dad’s cousin (Ray’s brother) Joe. He appeared regularly on ‘Bowling For Dollars’ on a Sioux City station. Bowling For Dollars was aired on Sunday morning, so Mom and I only caught the last 15 minutes of the broadcast when we got home from Sunday School and church at the Lyons Methodist Church. But Dad, (a lapsed Catholic) could always fill us in on how Joe was doing. One day we came home in time to see Joe being awarded a brand new Ford Mustang convertible for winning the bowling tournament.

Back in 1995, Ray and Joe visited me at my home at RR 2, Herman. I was collaborating with my friend Beverly Lydick on our book A Time To Speak: Personal Memories of WWII. Joe was visiting from Florida and took the time to grant me an interview regarding his experiences as a pilot. He had been shot down and spent time as a POW at Stalag 7, Musberg. Joe talked into my tape recorder, pretty much nonstop for about an hour and a half while I scribbled notes. When we were done, I turned to Ray and said, “How many times have you heard this story?”
“Never.” He replied, “This is the first time.”

(Special note: Musberg (and Cousin Joe) were liberated by the unit my Father-in-law, Jack Carson, was in. Lots more stories about his experiences some other time…)

Another visitor my mom always welcomed with her usual “Come in! Come in! Come in!” chant was our Aunt Babe. Aunt Babe was the widow of Mom’s late brother, Milton, who died of cancer before I was born. Once, when Mom and I were browsing through some old photo albums, I commented on some 1920s pictures of Aunt Babe, “Wow, She really looks like a Flapper.”
And Mom said, “Yes. That’s exactly what she was.”
Babe remarried at some point, and she and her new husband, Bob, dropped in occasionally. She and Mom’s relationship was maintained mostly through Christmas letters, birthday cards and any other Hallmark occasion, always signed, “Babe and Bob.”
Mom once confided in me that there was no love lost between Babe and my Grandma Anderson (Babe’s mother-in-law.) And that, even as Milton was on his death bed in the hospital, Babe refused to speak to Grandma. She would brush past Grandma, giving her the cold shoulder and share a cigarette with Uncle Milton. (Can you imagine? Smoking in a hospital room?!?!)

Tom & Marybelle: Tom & Marybelle were high school sweethearts who got married and raised a family of seven sons. They classmates of Mom’s (Class of ’36) and Tom happened to be a cousin of my dad’s. Dad and Tom used to go riding on a motorcycle together to try and beat the Nebraska heat. Tom & Marybelle were responsible for getting my parents together back in 1940 or so and the two couples were lifetime friends. Mom, Marybelle, and two other friends, Norita and Evelyn, were famous in our family for the strange photos they posed for. I wish I could find them and post them for you, but if I stop now and go looking for them, it will derail my train of thought… There is a series of old black & whites of the four of them perched on something. Anyway, the one I remember best is Mom in her bathing suit – sitting on a snow drift – I think Evelyn took it. The last one I remember was taken in the early 1970s in Marybelle’s back yard when the four of them were in their late fifties – so they climbed on it and took up various perches on a swing set and laughed and giggled while the picture was taken. Tom & Marybelle didn’t stop “dropping by” after Dad passed away. They picked up Mom and took her for an evening out to dinner and maybe dancing at the old Peony Park ballroom in Omaha. I hope they knew how much it eased her loneliness during the years of her widowhood.

Delaine: I always looked forward to summer visits from our cousins (Mom’s niece and her family of three) from Colorado. Delaine and her husband, Kem, had three kids: Sue, Gary and Ann. Sue and Shirl were close in age and Gary and I were the same age, and Ann was 3-4 years younger then me, but I adored her. She took gymnastics back in Denver and I was constantly asking her to do her tricks, like walkovers, handstands, flips, and backbends. She was so supple. I once tried to do a walkover and, of course, I couldn’t get my back properly arched so I landed flat on it and got the breath knocked out of me.
One evening, Kem & Delaine and Mom& Dad went out for the evening and left Shirley and Susan in charge of us “little” kids. I don’t remember what Gary and Ann and I were doing that got us into trouble. I would guess we were supposed to be lying down and going to sleep (the three of us slept together on the living room floor) and we were finding things to giggle and laugh about instead. After numerous attempts by both Shirl and Susan to get us to settle down, Susan finally said, “That’s it, I’m calling the police.” I watched in horror as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. Then I heard her say, “Yeah, this is Susan B______, I’m staying in town for a few days with my relatives and we’ve got some kids here who won’t behave.” She paused and listened for several minutes, tossing in a few “Uh-huh”s and “Yes, sir”s and then, “Yes, I will. I’ll tell them.” When she hung up the phone, I looked over at Ann and she was flopped down flat on her back with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes and she said, “Oh, ha ha ha, very funny. I know you didn’t really call the cops.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved in my life! I think we did settle down a little after that.

Every once in a while a strange car would pull up to the curb outside and an unknown man in a suit and tie would check himself in his rear view mirror, run a comb through his hair, get out, straighten his jacket and stroll up to the front door. This was one time Mom didn’t run to the door with her welcoming “Come in! Come in! Come in!” Sometimes she waited until his second knock. She‘d walk to the screen door, not open it and the stranger would flash a charming smile and say, “Good afternoon! I’m so-and-so with the Fuller Brush Company and would like to demonstrate some of our new products for you?” Mom’s answer was always the same, “No, I don’t need anything today.” And sometimes she’d close the inside door before walking away. I don’t remember any time anyone was allowed in to demo his product.

I know there are countless visitors to 725 Custer Ave that I’ve left out – like Shirley’s friends and my friends. Those are memories for some other time.

So… back to 1973 or so next time.

Part three of The Houses That Built Me will appear in a few days. This post is for Katie - and anyone else who wants to drop a bad habit.

Katie’s Manifesto

I, Katie P., devoted wife of Ross and loving mother of Riley and Reece, do hereby declare, ordain and establish that I will become a non-smoker.

I will begin by…. Procrastinating… I will achieve this goal in 40 days.

Day 1: I will light my first cigarette of the day ten minutes later than I did yesterday.
Instead of smoking at 0:00 AM, I will drink one 8 oz. glass of water and wait ten minutes.

Day 2: I will light my first cigarette ten minutes later than I did yesterday, drinking one 8 oz. glass of water instead of smoking.

Day 3: Same as days 1 and 2. I will keep in mind that the water is helping to flush the nicotine out of my system, thereby reducing my craving for it.

Day 4 through 20: same as days 1 and 2. Additionally, I will consume one less caffeinated drink per day, because caffeine aggravates craving for nicotine. I will replace it with cool, clear, cleansing water.

I will diligently seek to eliminate the following idea from my mind: “Just this one won’t hurt. I can get back on track tomorrow.”

I understand that irritability is a withdrawal symptom. Nicotine is a parasite and emotional irritation is its way of fighting to hold on to its place in my body. I will ignore these feelings and remain steadfast to my personal choice to become a non-smoker. I understand that, during these times of irritation, lighting a cigarette will not make a bad situation better.

Day 21: I will skip my last cigarette of the evening. I will avoid alcohol during the next 20 days, understanding that it also has a tendency to aggravate cravings for cigarettes and weaken my resolve to become a non-smoker.

During the next 19 days, I will keep in mind that dropping a bad habit is a lot like breaking up with a bad boyfriend: I am going to miss it for awhile.

I will remind myself that I have successfully quit smoking before; I know I can do it. I will begin taking a daily walk of at least 20 minutes, 4 times a week. I will notice how much easier it is to take deeper breaths and how I no longer become out of breath when I run up the stairs to the time clock.

Day 22: I will skip the cigarettes I usually smoke right after meals, waiting at least 20 minutes from the time I usually light up after eating.

Day 23: I will skip the cigarettes I usually smoke right after a meal, waiting at least 30 minutes.

Day 24: Same as 22-23, adding a 40 minute wait. More water will continue to cleanse my body of the influence of the parasite.

Day 25 - 30: I will continue to add 10 minutes to the time I usually light up after meals.

Day 30: I will not light up during my work breaks. I will look back over the past 30 days and build on my success in kicking cigarettes out of my life.

I will notice that I sleep more peacefully and cough a lot less when I first lie down at might. My walks will become longer and will eventually give way to running.

Days 30-39: I will continue to eliminate one cigarette per day until I am down to 1. I will memorize the following Bible verses so that when I feel irritated and/or am about to give up I will set my mind to CHEER UP (John 16:33) and CALM DOWN (John 14:27).

Day 40: I am now a non-smoker!!

I WILL NOT CELELBRATE BY LIGHTING UP A CIGARETTE!!!

I further strengthen my resolve to remain a nonsmoker by never, ever thinking “Just one won’t hurt…”

I am Katie.

I am strong.

I. Will. Do. it.