If my decisiveness causes divisiveness, then come what may because I've lived too much of my life in the gray.







Friday, December 25, 2020

This Christmas

     This morning my "memories" reminded me that three years ago, I was invited to celebrate Christmas with the 6 month old twins that I had only seen a handful of times. By the look on my face, you could tell I was desperately grateful... and desperately tired from the tsunami that hit our family that year. 
     I really didn't have anything to give so I printed out relevant scripture for each one and framed it. And h.o.p.e. Ministries is the only reason the kids at home got anything. Here is a post about it that I never published or completed: https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5869496433102770626/5864514521123043544. They helped once more the following year as we were reunited and waiting on Mike's Social Security Disability to be approved. 

     Last year, while everyone else was in dire financial straits, Jeremiah and Megan were on the road "raking it in" and made sure everyone got a little something by way of the Saran Wrap Ball game. I struggle with the emphasis on gifts at Christmas; nevertheless, I didn't want Macklynn and Madalynn to become takers rather than givers. So, we devised ideas for each sibling household that would be specifically from them. They paid $20 of Melody and Miranda's power bill. They cleaned Michael's car inside and out. They bought Timothy and McKala a gift card to go on a date. And they bought Megan a gift card for a manicure, and we gave Jeremiah some Kohl's cash. 
     This year the adult kids drew names. It has been another lean one, and I thought it'd be good to get Melody's truffle recipe and have the kids make batches for everyone. Lo and behold, Madalynn came down with a cold last weekend and Macklynn started coming down with it yesterday. So, even that hasn't worked out. However, as we were all gathered together yesterday, we found that the sisters had decided to buy gifts for everyone, just the way Michael did three years ago. 
     So, we shift. No one expects anything. In return, it always works out; Michael made that observation last night. We don't have particular traditions, and I hope it stays that way, that everyone remains thankful for whatever comes, like the little job Mike and I have picked up delivering cars to and from auctions, which provided in the nick of time the ability to buy everyone something from the Carhartt store and to put three or four gifts for Macklynn and Madalynn under the tree.
    Madalynn asked on the way home, during the "search for snow" ride Mike took us on (and found), if the presents left under the tree were for the two of them. She said it was a lot. And I know that it's not, but that she is so grateful for so little breaks my heart and lets me know that through everything they have learned so much. 

Wednesday, December 23, 2020

A Baby Changes Everything

                                                         
          

     "Mary, Did You Know?" is a favorite Christmas song. Every time I hear it though, I say to myself, "Of course, she knew." Luke 1:46-55, otherwise known as the Magnificat, is a "song" that begins with Mary's saying, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name." 

     So, I prefer the song, "A Baby Changes Everything." 

     Today was Megan's last day of work for good. Their first baby is due in 10 more weeks, and she is preparing to endeavor on the full-time work that solely belongs to her, the mother of her new baby girl. Now 30, Megan's been working hard since she was 16 years old. I've rarely gotten to spend much time with her since, so I love that they are living nearby and that it just so happens that I see her daily sometimes.
     Tomorrow begins the era of her not making her "own money," relying on Jeremiah to provide for her and their baby. They might do without. Her sister did, if living in America can qualify for that; they had just one car for a while - she got up in the mornings and took him to work if she needed to go somewhere. They didn't and still don't have a dishwasher. And there were many other things they did without that I'm sure I don't know about.  

     But everything "done without" is transposed into irreplaceable moments and opportunities because "A Baby Changes Everything." 


     
     

Thursday, December 17, 2020

If It's Not One Thing, It's Another

     I have hundreds and hundreds of pages of words I've put to paper. I still am in the process of submitting before the Lord in what order they should be, what conclusions should be made, and what perspective should be used. In the meantime, I still have rushes of thoughts that bring me back here, blogging. 
     Because I have not severed my relationship with Facebook (although I have recently written all the names and information of "friends" I want to stay in touch with when I do), I was scrolling through and saw some things I didn't know. It reminded me to count my blessings, all seven of  "them." Infertility and miscarriages are things I know nothing of. But I do know something of the difficulties of marriage. I said recently that perhaps God gave me the ease of childbearing knowing that marriage would not be so.
     I had another conversation recently about vaccinations. And for some reason, I thought of our collard green patch. It had caterpillars up until it got really cold; not only do they eat away the leaves, they might wind up on a plate. We could spray the plants, but it's easy enough to wash the leaves in the sink. Regardless, we had collard green trouble, and now they will probably die soon given a stay of freezing temperatures. We do not live in a perfect world. Period. 

     I know that my profile picture for this blog site needs to be updated so I'm working on the damage that I've sustained and have allowed to change my appearance and health. My hair is growing again. I'm glad for the hair I have. Again, I consider it a blessing, God knowing how awful the veins on my legs would be. 
     We just never know what we're gonna get. One person's child dies; another one's wants to die. These kinds of situations are what "I can do all things" is about. I read this morning, "He that handleth a matter wisely shall find good: and whoso trusteth in the LORD, happy is he" (Proverbs 16:20). It's not always that we don't trust God but that we don't trust ourselves and won't ask to made like Him, only that our circumstances be made easier. There is perceived difficulty in every choice and every encounter until we decide that God knows best and hears our prayers when we repent and answers them according to His own wisdom and pleasure.  

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Divergence

     We're on a roll today getting things done in and out of the house, so I hate to stop just to write. But my head is writing for me. When it happens, it comes to me; I don't go looking for it. I've been lying low on the election results and still hope for a particular outcome. However, it shouldn't have even been close! Over 70% of Americans claim to be Christians, although that's down from 85% in the 90s. So to me, this just got personal, maybe not like you think, though. It's time to put up a new flag. Don't get me wrong, not long before the election we replaced our tattered Trump flag with a new one. But it's time to be put out a Christian flag and get to doing the groundwork that we should have already been busy with. This all is about influence, and if we have none in our personal lives then we can't expect it in our political ones.                    
     There are a lot of issues at play, but the one I hear above all others is abortion. Here is where I'm going to diverge from the majority of conservative, Christian women, and if this makes our paths part then sobeit. I can't afford to consider feelings, especially when I, like Christ, mean to save not condemn. We have lost regard for the blessings of the womb, instead holding our wombs hostage from the Lord and to the number of children we think will be convenient for our families. I'm not talking about killing babies; I'm talking about never conceiving them to start with. I can say with resolve that the seven children I had were for the Lord. As I have written previously, I was never a "natural" at things home and family. If every professing Christian family devoted their lives to the command of fruitfulness and raised the resulting fruit accordingly, the gridlock in our nation would not be possible. The numbers would speak for themselves.
      Mom, who can't have any more children, all I ask is that you join me in a new way of thinking, in a new way of counseling our young women as Titus 2 commands. It's not for us to tell our girls or anyone else's to do what makes them happy when Biblical happiness is defined as fearing and following the Lord. I'm not interested in all the excuses of why this can't be done. As my favorite verse says, "Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established" (Proverbs 16:3). That's totally opposite of today's psychology of figuring it out then making a plan. Set your heart to obey, and God always works out the rest. 
     While you're rethinking family, rethink buying the products and entertainment that provide dark influence. Stop wearing their clothes; stop listening to their music; stop watching their shows; and stop getting your education from them. I, for one, have determined that since my children still have the opportunity in America to "play" to earn a college education and/or a living that I will support nothing less than it be for the Lord in music or in sport at a Christian college or in a Christian environment. 
     Don't confuse this with having an impact on society. Although I do take seriously that our daughter play only Christian music and that our son play football only for a Christian college, I also take seriously that as they have encounters with nonbelievers in their daily lives they do not, "become undercover Christians or rabbit-hole Christians. Rabbit-hole Christians pop their heads out only when they must. Their only contacts with the world are mad dashes to and from Christian activities. They live with the unspoken motto, 'The less contact with non-Christians the better the day.' They pop out to get in the car to run their Christian kids to the Christian school. They listen to their Christian radio, run off to their Christian Bible study, then go to lunch with their Christian friend. After dinner they pop out to visit their Christian friends for Christian fellowship," as described by the "Evangelism Is" book I read on the plane.
      All this "activity" is well and good, but then how do we follow the directions of Paul in Timothy 2:24-26, "And the servant of the Lord must not strive but be gentle to all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness instructing those that opppose themselves; if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowleding of the truth; and that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will." First off, I can say "hanging out" with them would not be Jesus' answer nor did he "hang out" with sinners as people conveniently subscribe to. He ate with and talked with people who genuinely wanted to know about Him. Secondly, we have to make enough margin in our errands and routines that we let God brush us into people. And that's how we influence our communities, not by arguing with people we don't or barely know on social media. 
     We need to "assemble" ourselves back together and move forward no matter the political outcome. There is ground to take today in our own backyards.

Thursday, November 5, 2020

Grit, Get Some

The real problem that people have with Trump is that he’s a man, a real man. I don’t mean that he’s always right or that he’s always genteel. I mean he calls it like he sees it. Last year in a unexpected conversation, I told a teacher that Trump's a man of grit. Would we send a pale-faced, fragile man out to fight the wolves? Such was David, one whom every time I read of I become frustrated with and enthralled with all at the same time. But who are we to judge the actions of a great man who believed his sin was in secret and now is revealed to the whole world, when in true confession he said to God, "Against thee, thee only, haved I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest" (Psalm 51:4). Who are we to be taken aback by such grave doings? I, for one, am not. I know that I am capable of and have been guilty of some of the very same sins. Do not harshly judge and dismiss a person for a fall to temptation for a temptation you’ve never been in a position to have. Back to Trump though …our country, being in a fiscal battle, needed a man of skill, a man with experience not a man of lofty ideals. Such were the differences between Thomas Jefferson and George Washington. Washington spoke of trusting and following God into battle while Jefferson created his own bible negating all the foundational, miraculous deeds of Christ. The other day I told Mike that in personality he falls somewhere between President Donald Trump and drag racing legend, John Force! The truth is that the majority of the time I don’t like his tone and sometimes not his even purposes. But something I’ve learned is that on every major decision for where to live, how to educate, where to work, where to worship, and with whom to associate; he’s been right. Pure and simple. I have a marriage that has to be managed the way Esther did. It doesn’t really matter what I like and don’t; I have to remember to only come to him with the big things, managing smaller things myself. Funny that I fathomed in a post two summers ago how in his poor health he and I would live a new life of collaboration: cooking, shopping, and teaching together. Ha! He’s still a man’s man, and it may kill him, but he’ll go down swinging. A difference between Esther and me is wealth. Every day including yesterday is a decision of survival. The Impala finally went back. He bought it while he was still working prior to his heart failure diagnosis and has held onto it firmly all this time as a means to keep a good credit score in hopes of home ownership again one day. He’s tried everything legal under the sun to get rid of it before now. Megan’s selling her Jeep came just in the nick of time, albeit a couple of months earlier than she intended, so that’s what you’ll see me trolling around town in. This week holds other hard “issues.” Our neighbors have grown so fond of one of our dogs that they’ve all but claimed him, luring him with food and providing him with bedding and shelter. I’ve been biting my tongue and cooperating for a year. Last night, I couldn’t do it anymore after she confessed that she had fed him and intended to shelter him for the night after I specified that she not. Today also, we have to deal with the actions of a teammate of one of our kids. People are so used to everyone rolling over that they do and say whatever they want. No fear, no respect, no regard – a thankless generation. Harpers ain’t rollin’ over. We’ve managed to get some grit. You should get some, too.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

Hello, Little One

     Hello, little one. Your daddy and mama are among the most giving people I know. Last Christmas alone they supplied funds toward a snow blower and stove to Papa Mark and Gramma Miish.  And now for us, they have provided an all expenses paid trip to Alaska all the way from North Carolina: flight, food, car, cabin, and even a suitcase for me, Mamachelle, and Extra Tuffs for Papa Mike. 
     This trip was in lieu of the one planned for Papa Mike to tour the Western US with Mama and Daddy. I think Mama, with you on the way, wanted to do what could potentially be Papa's last big trip, considering the condition his health is in. Little did she know that Alaska instead would be the "hoorah," not necessarily the "last" but one that can never be replicated.
     Getting there was hard for your mama. She got a migraine on the second flight of the three it took to get there. The first night we all four stayed in the room together at a hotel in Anchorage. The drive to Soldotna, your daddy's hometown, was cloudy and foggy. But then it all lifted for the rest of the 12 days! Upon arrival at Papa Mark and Gramma Miish's, a favorite meal of your daddy's, fried fish and sushi, was soon underway and then something I've never done, the "processing" of a moose, which went on for days actually. 
     We were introduced that same afternoon to our "cabin," a mini-cabin really, which was perfectly charming to me but quite tight for Papa Mike! I thought I'd give him the bigger bed, which happened to be the one in the loft. His cumbersome descent gave me one of the biggest laughs I've ever had in my whole life. Of course, we switched. 
     When, in the night, I had to make a mad dash for the glorified outhouse, the charm suddenly turned to alarm. I had seen pictures of the wildlife that roam the property. So, I added a new level of thanks to my prayers each time I got back in my bed unharmed!
     Papa Mark and Gramma Miish, and your Aunts Neakita, Alaina, and Katelyn gave us the grand tours of both Homer and Seward, port cities surrounded by strikingly beautiful waters speckled with colorful boats against the back drop of nothing less than glaciers! 
     We were totally unprepared for another trip we got to take! A fellow church member of theirs, Jim, took us up in his plane while Papa Mark flew in the co-pilot's seat. Papa Mike and I sat in the second row, with Mama and Daddy in the back. Just because we all had headsets did not mean that I understood what all was about to take place. We flew over the oil rigs and along the coastline of the national park. It wasn't clear to me that we planned to land anywhere until we were practically on the beach, a beach where the only residents were wild. I wasn't anywhere nearly as interested as everyone else in exploring, regardless of the scenery that leaves one breathless. The discovery of bear AND wolf tracks confirmed my suspicions. I was relieved when Papa Mark revealed that he was "packing" a formidable weapon. Then, and ONLY then was I comfortable enjoying our picnic of sandwiches and salmon dip. 
     Our exit was not as smooth as our entry, and I was to the point of tears with excitement before I even knew that we barely missed the waterline before take-off. And that was after we got stuck in the sand and had to dig out the plane!
     As we went on down the coast, we finally found the prize, grizzly bears digging for clams in the muddy inlets. Jim flew us low to see all that we could, just as he did through the mountain range and into the "bowl" where the glacier lay and where your mama still fighting morning sickness, a pilot herself, gave up the contents of her stomach to the turbulent flight. 
     The intermittent events at Papa Mark and Gramma Miish's led to more significant happenings than these. We had game night, and there was a party for Daddy where lots of family friends came to celebrate his birthday! But there was a Sunday afternoon meal that made the whole trip take on new meaning. Your Daddy's youth minister asked if he'd been baptized. When I heard him, I went and inquired, "Did anyone suggest you ask him that?" When he replied, "No," I KNEW that God was at work because we had just been discussing it a few evenings ago.
     While Daddy's parents gathered as many people as they could, we all headed toward Sports Lake to witness both your daddy hold back tears as he testified of the time he knew he could not go on without the Lord and walk down into the cold, cold water to be baptized in order to publicly show the outer cleansing that happens on the inside of a Believer in and Follower of Christ. I, of course, cried as with every other baptism I've been present for. Sometimes I laugh at myself and say that's the reason I know that I myself am saved!
     The "water" plays such a big part there on the peninsula. We went on beach strolls with Daddy and Mama to find shells and rocks and your daddy's favorite, agates. My favorites were the small green rocks and tiny pink shells. I brought them home and put them in Aunt Madalynn's flower pot. The boat ride we got to take out to the camp site where Daddy and his sisters used to go with the church was to me the most beautiful of all, just because I couldn't stop gazing at the aqua color of the glacier water. 
     We got a fire going, snacks out, and bug nets on. There was bear skat everywhere, so I was keeping my eyes peeled at every turn, especially hiking up the waterfall with brush all around! Papa Mark, Daddy, his sisters, and their dog, Tundra, all climbed to the top, while Gramma and I had to be escorted down from our halfway marks. 
     Papa Mark's mom, Grandma Dawn, had us over twice and had everything just so! We got to see the horses Aunt Katelyn works with and where Gramma works to get the Gospel out to the natives and from where Papa Mark flies staff, volunteers, and supplies for Samaritan's Purse! Papa Mike got to see even more than we did. We'll call that an upgrade just like the cabin one we got. When everyone left from the last tourist weekend of the season, we were placed in the Honeymoon Cabin for free. It was many times bigger than the first and not only had "indoor" plumbing but also had a jacuzzi!
     We saw moose and caribou right on the sides of the roads. More importantly I got to know your aunts on these rides. Katelyn is a bundle of laughs. Alaina listens and helps. And Neakita has struck out on her own and is someone I could talk with all day. This kind of thing was the true objective of the trip. 
     Meanwhile, Aunt McKala, Abigail, and Autumn were in North Carolina staying with Uncle Macklynn and Aunt Madalynn. He had broken the growth plate of his pelvis sprinting during football practice and was still dependent on crutches. Then, two weeks before the trip, Aunt Madalynn fell on her skateboard (that Papa Mike had given permission but not blessing for - God does that too, so remember it) and broke the radius bone in her arm in two and had to have it reset. That was it; I called the trip off, until I found out that Daddy and Mama couldn't get refunds. So three days before, I changed my mind when Madalynn said she was feeling better and when McKala continued to convince she could handle two three-year-olds and two broken-up teens for 12 days!
     Now, Papa Mike, Daddy and Mama, and I are back in the Lower 48 awaiting your expected March arrival. You've begun moving in Mama's belly, which reminds me of what David said, "I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother's belly" (Psalm 22:10). You have ones going before you seeking and serving Christ. Child, may you always do the same.
      
     

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Yes Ma'am

     I called it yesterday: that they would demand college for cops. Get everyone they can into the system and spellbound by their philosophies. What the world needs is less college and more church. BlackLivesMatter is a godless antithesis of the Church. And if you haven't cared to dig into their mission statement, then you don't know that with them anything goes including the destruction of the nuclear family which, again, is the foundation of Communism.
     Violence, as in Noah's day, is what brings an end to the patience of God. If "peaceful" protestors had been interested in peace, they would have left before the curfews. After the first day, they knew exactly the kind of violence they were ushering in by staying on the streets.
     Physical violence is the outcropping of a violent heart. Every so-called peaceful protestor who spits vile words and threats is well on their way to physical violence that just hasn't found the right  opportunity yet.
     As the brave police force dwindles as a result of reverse racism and unappreciation, the cities will see what it looks like when no one answers the 911 call. Except, the Progressives believe the answer is on-call social workers. Situations that have turned violent are not ready for reason. People who talk for a living think that's the solution to everything. These are the same people whose kids won't take no for answer, the same kids out on the street looking for something to represent because their own lives are meaningless. Even our Christian, young adults don't know God and his Word well enough to discern the current evil. They aren't "following" solid, Christian leaders, just cool friends and trends.
     Thank God our own kids have been taught about politics, current events, economics, and firearms their whole lives. I know you want to protect the innocence of your children, but if you don't make them "wise as serpents," they will be helpless and basically useless in this culture.

     Here's what I know: I was picking a couple of things up at the store last week. A black man a little older than I am walked up to get the same thing I was getting. I stepped back to give him room because of the whole Covid thing. He got his item while saying, "Excuse me." Then, he said, "I should have said excuse me before I got it." I smiled and told him I was so sleepy I didn't even notice. We talked about what we were making for supper, and he left. All good. No racism. That's how it works, one encounter at a time.
     But the Progressives need division to have a leg to stand on. God knows they don't have anything else. The polarization is causing more racism, not less. Truth be known, I'm a little more scared of black males having seen what I've seen on TV. I'm not scared enough to hate, but for people who don't understand the love of Christ, that's the natural path: fear=hate.
     If my information is correct, black males make up 6% of the American population and 44% of violent crime. Nothing but reformation in Jesus is going to help that discrepancy. And what about the black voices who refuse to be "played" by mindless politics? Burgess Owens, Ms. Yunga, Candace Owens, and the Woodson Institute. And guess what? I don't need social media. Why are Christian people depending on nonChristian outlets anyway? The same reason we do anything: convenience.
   
    The real problem in all this is no respect of authority. The vast majority of us have handed our children over to the system as their only true authority. And we're reaping the consequences. Organized school started out in America to not only get children out of factories but also to get moms into them. And we decided we liked it better that way. Leave the hard work to the professionals while we get a nicer house and a nicer car and more personal freedom. And now we have entire generations of rebels led by Principalities.
    This weekend has been a lab of sorts for our 15 and 12 year olds. They have gotten to see just what it takes to wrangle in the will of two year olds. All toddlers sneak, hit, steal, scream, and throw until someone stops them. I didn't hand my children over so that people could coerce them into submission. I have trained them with real, immediate, painful results, as they are doing with their children. Yes, there comes a point when God steps in and takes over. And believe you me, when that happens, they full-well know where their discipline is coming from and why. No excuses. Quit giving people excuses. Victims are breeders of contempt. And, ladies, the next time someone says, "Yes, ma'am," to you, humbly accept it as a respectful sign of authority which is forgotten in our country.