Stick Horse Cowgirls

  Today, my husband and I attended Psalm Sunday services.  No, this beautiful church is not where we attend, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if all churches were this lovely? We attended church regularly most of our married life—dragging sleepy children out of their beds and enduring the getting everyone ready and into the car!  Oh, I do remember those days!   With daughter’s health issues and the demands on my free time —(what’s that???), we’ve gotten lazy (and tired), and church attendance has fallen by the wayside.  I’ve enjoyed my leisurely Sunday mornings --it is supposed to be day of rest, isn’t it?  I don’t think church attendance is mandatory, but it helps me keep my equilibrium in a turbulent world.  I’m thinking many of us have gotten this wrong thinking that by going to church we are doing G-d a favor.  I’m thinking that we go there to receive strength to endure and persevere the tribulations of life.   I love the joy of childre...

Night before last I watched the Discovery channel’s opening episode of their “ Curiosity ” series.  If there was ever a curious person (in more ways than one!), it is I.    If the adage “curiosity kills the cat” were true and I were a cat, I’d long be dead. The pilot episode was presented by Stephen Hawking, the great British physicist/cosmologist who has become a celebrity brain, of sorts.  By the way, I have learned that a cosmologist is one who studies the origin and structure of the universe and time/space relationships.  The universe is defined by Wikipedia as “the totality of everything that exists”.  Hmmmmm.  Hmmmm.   Big topic. I am sure you have seen Stephen Hawking.  He has written several books for mass publication—for us lesser minds—seeking to open the world of physics and cosmology to those of us with more pedestrian IQs.  He is made even more remarkable by the fact that he is wheel-chair bound, almost entirel...

Yeah, it’s French.  And, yeah, I’m faking it—I can’t speak French, at least not yet, but it’s the phrase that came to mind this morning.  See?  I know a little… I found myself wanting to write.  But about what?  Those of us in Blogdom know that one way to get a post done is to sit at the keyboard and let our fingers do the walking…mine just seemed to take off. I thought about taking off on a comment that Vickie of Sand Flat Farm made on my last post on cussing, no less.  Her point is that we are growing “numb” to things…yes, that’s a post all right.  But this morning I don’t feel like soap box ranting (do I hear a collective sigh of relief?).  Vickie’s inspiration will wait on another day.  No, I think I feel like just reporting.  On life.  When V first dragged me into blogging and we were considering names for our blog, one of the first names my cynical mind came up with was “As if You Care!”   But I find that I do c...

I love red birds! I've always heard that seeing one meant company was coming--it's a sign of good news! I hope so! I'm not expecting any company, but good news would be nice!! As "C" described in her last post, we had rainstorms for most of the this weekend, and my mood has been dampened along with my yard. Our lawn is saturated; large branches have fallen and the dogs track in mud. The brief period it did not rain, I arrived at home and noticed that my dog, Dudley, was alerting me to something in the front garden. Since we live out in the country, my first suspicion was that it was a snake. Dudley was bitten by a poisonous snake a couple of years ago, his head swelled painfully and he HATES snakes!! I figured that his behavior indicated the presence of a snake. I went into the house to unload my packages, answered my cell phone, but Dudley's continued frantic barking from up on the porch compelled me to go take a look. Sure enough, coiled up in my garden amon...

This is a post about a post.  My mother-in-law posted the other day at Immigrant Daughter , and in it she revealed something I only just discovered while reading it.  She did not make much of this in her post but, as you will see, I have been pondering it ever since I read it.  Here’s the much-shortened version of the back story:  My father-in-law (now gone from us for two years) was born out of wedlock in Indiana in 1924.  He was raised in foster homes, and his story is one of extremes: tragedy and redemption.  This is one of my favorite pictures of him, in my breakfast room, holding my cat.  You can read more about him on Immigrant Daughter .  He married MIL in 1949. When he was grown, with his own family (maybe in his 50’s??), he found his blood family.  After he was given to the foster system as an infant, his parents had married and had two sons—his full brothers.  His parents had both died by the time he located the family. ...

I love the concept of covenant. I truly believe that when the Lord enters into covenant with us, He never breaks that relationship. I'll probably never have the theological debates over free will and the gift of faith figured out, but I'm glad that I don't need to understand exactly how it all works to have the faith which has been granted to me, for even faith itself is a gift. Pure Grace - unmerited favor. Our family had the delight of our newest member, Jack, wearing his great-grandfather's Christening dress that he wore in 1907, receive the gift of pure grace this Easter. If only he will grow up to be half the man his great-grandfather was, I would be happy. My father-in-law was such a man of unfailing love for his family and honest, kind, and faithful. These are all  praiseworthy attributes which I hope little Jack inherits! So here is a photo of Jack trying on this lovely hand-embroidered dress which is now 103  years old! Youngest daughter and I took Jack o...

My dad's birthday was this week. February 17, 1922, a baby boy, weighing 8 lbs. was born to my 20 yr. old grandmother, who had been deserted by her young husband. He left Arkansas to seek his fortune in Salt Lake City and later ended up in New York. In the old family Bible, I discovered my grandmother's attempt to erase the indelible ink birthdate of my father, who had been born in Feb. following her August wedding. She had confessed to my mother that she and her mother had attempted to bring on menstruation by various home "remedies". Of course it is apparent that in order to avoid the shame and embarrassment of a unwed pregnancy (especially in 1921), that they tried to abort the life of her unborn child. Fortunately, the attempt was not successful, and my lovely grandmother gave birth to a hearty, healthy, handsome boy who would be the best son a mother could have and he would be the only child she would ever bear, though she remarried when he was nine. Letters...