'Twas the Night After Thanksgiving

'Twas the night after Thanksgiving and all through the home,
Not a creature was thankful for the blessings they'd been shown.
The leftovers were tossed in the fridge without care,
In the dread that turkey sandwiches would long be found there.

The children were nestled in grandma's spare beds,
While visions of Christmas toys danced in their heads.
And grandma wept quietly at the disastrous meal
But, no one in the house cared how she feels.

Jim brought his new girlfriend, wife and kids left behind.
Jerry had been drinking and kept speaking his mind.
Debbie picked fights and George stormed out
Uncle Phil sat all day, talking about his gout.

Bobby and Charlie didn't come to dinner at all.
They pitched a tent outside of the mall.
For Black Friday shopping, they must be first in line.
To get a deal on an iPad, they gave up family time.

John is in Iraq, serving his country with pride,
Junior stayed at home, brushing his family aside.
"They're ridiculous and embarrassing, I can't believe we're related.
I'd rather stay home and watch football," he stated.

No one was happy, they all complained.
The food was treated with utter disdain.
The stuffing's too wet, the turkey's too dry.
"You didn't fix my favorite, grandma, why?"

The grandkids ran screaming from room to room,
The little ones broke a window with a broom.
The teenagers reeked of more than just smoke
And knocked over grandpa's handmade clock, which broke.

The kids ran unchecked and out of control
They were rude and impolite and mean to little Nicole.
The older ones barely spoke a word all day,
They just kept their phones in their hands, texting away.

Though it was now midnight, Molly and Abigail were ready to go
Heading for lines and sales to save lots of dough.
Forgetting to help out other families in need,
Buying more toys to feed their spoiled kids' greed.

When up in the heavens, there arose such a clatter,
Yet all were so self-centered, it didn't seem to matter.
When all of His good and perfect gifts are ignored,
You should know in a moment, it must be the Lord.

And then, in a twinkling, life will pass by in a jerk.
He spoke many words, now we should get straight to work.
He was heard to exclaim as he rose out of sight,
"Be thankful in all and love your neighbor day and night."

God's Desire

This blog is called "writing practice," but it's been mostly journalistic in nature. I've written "articles" taken from my everyday life, which is fine, but I feel I should also insert more of my creativity. I wrote two versions of a short story a few months ago and I added a little creativity to my last post, but I plan to do this more often. The other day, I dug through some of my creative writing files to find a poem for my grandpa and I found some that I want to rework.

Jesus is calling
O sinner, repent.
Your life is unclean
And in constant torment.
You do what you want,
But you're longing for more.
Your existence is empty,
Won't you open the door?
He's waiting for you
With open, loving arms.
He'll keep you safe
From the enemy's harms.
Jesus is calling...
Please, sinner, repent.

The Holy Spirit is calling,
O Christian, obey.
There's numerous ways
To serve Christ today.
He'll speak to you
Through His divine Holy Word.
Your God will instruct you
Though not a voice can be heard.
In prayer, you'll talk with him
As you come boldly to the throne.
With mercy and grace,
He'll lead you toward home.
The Holy Spirit is calling...
Please, Christian, obey.

The Father is calling,
O Christian, please go.
My love to all sinners
I want you to show.
Be a light everywhere, wherever;
Tell what God has done for you.
Spread the gospel in your sphere
Tell each Catholic, Agnostic, and Jew.
Then cross the oceans,
And win foreign lands.
As you, all over the globe,
Proclaim the kingdom is at hand.
The Father is calling...
Please, Christian, won't you go?

The Godhead is calling,
O Christian, come home.
The streets of gold stand ready,
For the redeemed to roam.
The mansions are built
By a Carpenter for you,
Silhouetted against
A sky of deepest blue.
Your work is complete,
You can lay your burden down.
Loved ones gone before
Wait to show you around.
The Godhead is calling...
My child, welcome home.

The Modern Family

Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, there lived a queen. She was neither a good queen nor a bad queen, but a queen that tried her very best. Her dominion was not very large: in fact, her subjects were very limited in number, but she loved them very much and would give anything for their well-being.

By and by, the queen had a son. The very idea of raising a son struck terror in the heart of the queen. She knew nothing about raising a modern-day knight. She had no magic mirrors or book of spells to help her, for this land was not magical. She feared her son becoming like the wicked king and she longed to instill the love of the Creator in him.

However, when the prince was born, he immediately bonded with the queen. The babe would stare lovingly into her face, bringing tears to the queen's eyes. The prince made the queen feel like a queen. The apprehension the queen had felt melted into love and adoration.

When the boy was a toddler, the wicked king decided that he was too much of a mama's boy and took him under wing, much to the chagrin of the queen. The sweet baby became a hard to manage child. He threw tantrums, he screamed, he hit, he kicked, he threw things, he said bad words. The queen remembered the sweet baby and loved her son still. She hoped he would grow out of this stage.

The prince started preschool. The queen received phone calls from the school that the boy was being mean to other students and could not be calmed and would not give ear to his instructors. As the problems escalated and the years passed, the queen realized that the boy was not outgrowing the issues. They were only getting worse. She went to parenting classes, read books, asked other parents, researched online. She knew it must somehow be her fault. She had done something wrong in raising the boy. The boy still loved his queen mother, however, and preferred her company above all others.

The wicked king, meanwhile, attempted to kill the queen and run away with the prince and the royal princesses, but his plans were thwarted. He was arrested, dethroned, overthrown, and left to set up a kingdom somewhere else. The queen found a new king, who was good and kind and loved the prince and the royal princesses and moved them into his castle, where he lived alone with his faithful canine companion.

As the prince began elementary school, the good king and the queen began to be more and more concerned about his behavior. Words like "high functioning autism" began to haunt them. So, they sought medical help. A doctor, or wizard of the first degree, sent them to a wizard of the second degree. He proclaimed that the prince had an affliction known as ADHD, complicated with a side of ODD. They tried different potions from the apothecary until they found one that seemed to calm the boy down. His behavior was still a problem, but he was finally able to sit still. They were then passed on to a wizard of the third degree.

This wizard gave them new parenting techniques and suggested new punishments for the prince. The wizard charged them with keeping a scroll of the boy's actions. The queen gained confidence in her ability to handle the boy and be a strong mother. However, she missed her son when he had to be banished to the tower, which was frequently. The wizard saw elements of OCD in the boy's behavior. One of his troubling observations was that the prince seemed happiest when he was playing by himself, being left alone.

Though the wizard was still working on the problem, the queen became nervous when the wizard mentioned "occupational therapy" if the prince could not gain control over himself and his actions. This, to the queen, sounded like giving up on her beloved son. She was further troubled when the wizard told them that the prince was selfish and narcissistic and that if they were to quit at this point, they would have to learn to accept him for who and what he is: someone that expects the world to revolve around him. The queen was brokenhearted when the wizard told her that her son obviously did not feel the same about her as she did about him or else he would miss her when he was banished to the tower. Since he didn't seem to mind being in the tower alone, he obviously didn't care about spending time with the queen or being a part of the royal family. The queen felt as though she had lost that sweet baby and that she'd imagined the close relationship she had believed she'd had with the prince.

As with all fairy tales, the question is whether they all lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, I can't tell you the answer to that question because the next chapter hasn't been written yet. We still don't know what is causing the problems with my son or how to help him.

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Day 22

The big news today is that the kitties now have permanent names! The kitty formerly known as "Black" is George and "Blue" will henceforth and forever be called Shadow.

My mother-in-law was concerned that we would be so used to calling them "Black" and "Blue" that they would only answer to that. But, I don't usually use those monikers unless I am talking ABOUT them. When I address the kitties, I say baby, kitty, punkin, sugar, sweetie, or something like that.

I mentioned in a previous post that we had decided to call one of the cats "George" long ago due to the Bugs Bunny cartoon (link here) and my favorite football player. But, the deciding factor in naming Smidgen, aka Black, "George" was that he is a Curious George, with his nose in anything. And he is somewhat wild, so I will often break into a chorus of "George of the Jungle" as he is racing through the house.

Butterball, aka Blue was a harder one to name. We tossed around many names. He was almost a Charles after my hubby's favorite football player. And I kind of liked funny names like "Catty Wompus" or "TOMba Hali," if he must be named after a Chiefs' player. But, they didn't really fit his personality. Shadow had a nice ring to it and since he likes to hide and also follows me around, it fit him.

And so, Smidgen and Butterball, who became Black and Blue (in name only!), have now become George and Shadow!

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 14-21

Thing One and Thing Two (ha ha) are settling into the house nicely. I am the Pied Piper of Hamlin, as the kitties follow me around everywhere I go...as well as weaving around my legs and tripping me as I walk. My husband observed this one night and said, "Man, they are attached to you!" Sometimes I end up with both kitties in my lap or one on my lap and one on my shoulder or around my neck. I have always said that there is something about me that kitties like. My husband was slightly jealous because even with treats, he could not lure them away from me. I have spent lots of time cultivating trust with them. However, he was tickled last night when "Black" jumped up in his lap and stayed a while. Then, later, when he was laying in bed, Black jumped up there and licked his face. Today, "Blue" rubbed all over his legs and stretched his paw up on Scott's legs several times, wanting to be petted. Scott said, "Okay, you both can stay!" Ha, ha!

If Black is not in my lap, he is usually in my office chair, one of our recliners, or our bed. My mother-in-law has a plaque that says, "If you want the best seat in the house, move the cat." Black is proving that to be true. Blue hides behind the couch most of the day, which is better than the bottom of the concrete basement stairs. But, he comes out when the kids aren't home or are asleep and wanders around or sits with me.

Kimberly had a great idea for introducing the cats to Jesse (the border collie). We put up the portable kennel in the dining room and then let the cats approach Jesse without the fear that he could get at them. Black walked right up to the kennel and got nose to nose with Jesse. Jesse averted his eyes at first, but then barked, which scared them and they ran. He calmed down after that and Black boldly walked around the kennel multiple times. Blue would freeze in the kitchen and stare. I finally picked him up and carried him into the bedroom, where he froze and stared at the kennel. Scott went with him and he cautiously went towards the kennel. It was cute--as long as we were there with him, he went close to the kennel. But later, they were playing and got near the kennel and Jesse jumped up suddenly and startled them and they took off. I think Jesse is more afraid of them. He turns his head to avoid eye contact and goes to the back of the kennel. We'll keep trying until they get used to each other. You can't undo thousands of years of species animosity overnight!

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 11-13

We decided to let the kitties in yesterday since the weather is getting colder and they are increasingly curious about the kitchen door. We still haven't cut the hole in the door--correction: my husband hasn't cut the hole in the door. His version is that he hasn't helped ME cut the hole in the door. He doesn't think the garage door being open makes that much difference, but I say it is COLD. Think I will have to turn the heat on later. Door cutting will have to wait until Thursday now, since he has to work tomorrow. Anyways, I digress.

When we opened the door, they cautiously came in. They were checking out the kitchen, but my husband called to me and when I turned to walk in the other room, they scattered. Then we couldn't coax them back in for anything. We left the door open, but they didn't return until that evening when the kids went to bed. Billy had been messing around and I went to check on him. When I came back, I smelled something stinky, so I went to clean the litter box. I saw Black, but not Blue. All of a sudden, he came strolling out of the kitchen like he owned the place. Funny, because he usually leaves it to his brother to check things out and then follows once the coast is clear. They both came in then and checked out the kitchen, living room, dining room, the hall, and our bedroom. They were so funny. I don't think their necks could stretch any farther, their bellies sink any lower, or their eyes get any wider.

Today, they really made themselves at home in the house, until the kids came home, then it was back to the garage. While they were inside exploring, I shot the first video. Black has gotten under our bed twice. The second time, I told my hubby he was there, so he shook the bed because he didn't want him under there. Nothing happened. He shook it again. Still nothing. He said, "He must have sneaked out when you weren't looking." I swore he hadn't. I went looking around the house and couldn't find either of them. I searched twice. No sign of kitties. So, I got my laptop and went to sit on the couch in the living room. As soon as I sat down, I heard the jingling of a kitty collar and a cat scrambling to get out from under the recliner seat I was sitting in, then racing around the back of the couches and out in the open. Blue had apparently climbed under the recliner from the back. Later, we were looking again for Black under the bed. I was peering under the recliner at the end of the bed and saw a shadow, heard my hubby say, "There he is," and then felt kitty paws running across my feet. I screamed because it startled me.

The two boys played for a while today. I have not seen them play together since we got them. They play with us, but not together. Black was playing with the crinkle tunnel when Blue suddenly sprang and jumped on him. It was so out of the blue, I couldn't help but laugh. So, I grabbed the camera and took the second video of them playing. Later, after I had turned the camera off, Black decided to pull a slick one on his brother. Whenever he says, "mow," his brother comes running to check him out. It must be the way that he calls him. So, Black was hiding at the end of the couch and said, "mow." Blue was on the couch, getting petted, but when he heard his brother, he jumped down and cautiously went over. As soon as he was within sight, Black pounced him.

I heard back from the lady at the humane society. She said to try giving them Kit-N-Kaboodle because that was what they were fed exclusively. However, I have not found any kitty puke in about 36 hours, so maybe they are doing better.

They enjoyed a nice moist chunky kitty food treat today. Scott bribed them and they promptly stuck their faces in the bowl. Black hardly came up for air, he enjoyed it so much. I am glad they are happier and more at ease with each passing day.

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 9 & 10

I am now concerned with both kitties' health. Blue is still throwing up and having diarrhea (he threw up in the carrier this morning--at least I am assuming it is him). And we discovered that Black has been scratching at his collar so much that he has left a bald patch with irritated bumps under it. I wondered if he was allergic to it, but I am hoping that he is just unfamiliar with wearing a collar and will get used to it. Going to try a different cat food and see if that helps Blue. If it doesn't, I am going to contact the woman at the Humane Society because she said they would stand behind their pets and help with medical care, if needed.

Blue has decided he sort of likes Arrena. He has become my favorite. He responds best to me, but he is now seeking out Arrena too. I wonder if it is because we look a lot alike or if it's because he can tell that she is calmer than the others.

We've bought them some toys that I am anxious to see them try out. Scott is going to put together the cat jungle gym that I talked about in a previous post. And I found them a "crinkle tunnel". My friend Elizabeth's cats play in one of the kids play tunnels and have a BLAST with it. This one has the crinkle sound that kitties love and is lighted. Oooooh! Not sure why it needs lighting, but oh well, it was on sale. And we had been intrigued by a remote controlled mouse that we saw. It was on sale too, so we bought it and it was so much fun to play with them with it. Here's a video to illustrate my point: (Blue is in the litter box at the beginning of the video, so that is the scratching sound you hear.)

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 7 & 8

Tough crowd, tough crowd.... My mother-in-law is looking into hitmen and rounding up the townsfolk for an angry mob because I still haven't revealed the kitties' new names. Well, prepare to be disappointed. We have still not decided on names. My husband is still saying we may not keep both kitties (even though he went and bought some moist morsel kitty food to bribe them with as well as what can only be described as a kitty jungle gym) and we know we want to name one "George." I know George is a strange choice, but as we were looking up kitty name lists, we ran across George and both of us chorused, "I will call him George! And I will love him and stroke him and pet him and hold him!" Plus, one of my favorite football players is Eddie George. We have tossed around different combinations, but have not arrived at a second name. Since we all seem to have trouble spitting out "Butterball" and "Smidgen", we decided that until we figure out another name, we are going to call him by the color of their collars. It's easy since as you look at them, you know that "Blue" has on a blue collar, instead of trying to remember that he is "Butterball." So, for now, they are "Blue" and "Black." I know, it's dumb, but it's only temporary.

I was beginning to think that "Blue" had a broken purr-motor because I had never heard him purr. Last night I went out to see them and Blue was really lovable. Then he started purring. His purr was so cute--it sounded a bit like chirping--sort of a squeaky purr. While he was in a good mood, I picked him up and put him in my lap. He stayed there for a while, letting me pet him and purring.

Billy was pleased that Black jumped in his lap and rolled around on him for a while. Ignoring him is the trick to getting his attention.

I have been having some trouble with the automatic litter box. It clogs often. We decided to try this other litter we saw at the store, called Feline Pine. It is much lighter weight, so we thought it might help, since the rake sometimes appears to be unable to make it through the litter and resets itself. So, this morning, I dumped out the old litter and put in the new stuff. Now, this is too lightweight. When the rake starts, it pushes everything out. The stuff sticks together. I'm not sure what to do with it now.... Maybe I will look for help on some online forums to get some advice.

We were going to let the kitties into the house tomorrow, but the kids are out of school tomorrow and I'd rather the boys have some quiet to explore the house, instead of kids following them around everywhere. So, we decided to wait until Monday. Boy, they sure try to follow me in!

I'll be glad when they can come in. They are getting used to being with us and seem to want more. And so do I!

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 5 & 6

Butterball has found a new place to lay down. Instead of the bottom of the stairs, he found a few towels that we had folded on the garage shelf and decided that was much more comfortable than the concrete stairs. Smidgen has taken to laying on top of the workbench behind Scott's toolbox.

They are both interested in the kitchen door. And instead of being afraid of the automatic litterbox, Smidgen is very intrigued by it. As soon as it starts, he runs over to check it out.

Scott tried to bribe them both with chicken nuggets the other night. Smidgen took it willingly, but Butterball was really afraid for some reason and would only lick it.

Yesterday morning when I went to check on them, I found some kitty barf on the floor. Smidgen has been acting as though he were hacking up a hairball. After I fed them, Butterball ate a little and then threw it up on the floor. Later when I went out there, there were 3 large piles of barfed up food. I am starting to be concerned about Butterball's health. His one eye still seems to have some goo in it and he squints that eye. We are thinking about calling the humane society we got him from because the lady said that if the boys had any health problems, they would take care of it. The food I got for them is indoor formula, so it is supposed to help with hairballs. I also bought some kitty treats that have hairball meds in it. Smidgen loves them and wanted more then his recommended daily allowance, but I could only get Butterball to eat one, instead of the 5 needed for full treatment.

Both of the boys were extremely lovable and Butterball tried to follow me in the kitchen door. It's odd for him to be so hot on my heels, but it's good that he's coming around.

We gave both of the boys collars. Smidgen has a black one with rhinestones and Butterball has a blue one. That should make it easier for everyone to tell them apart since the brothers look so similar. I can easily tell them apart. Butterball has a round face, whereas Smidgen has a long, thin face. Smidgen's black stripe on his back is wider and longer than Butterball's stripe.

Smidgen actually jumped up in my lap and rolled all over me. I laughed and told him his silly self was going to fall off. Sure enough, he fell off the chair. One thing I find funny about them is that they love to have their bellies rubbed. Scott doesn't find it weird, but I have never had a cat that enjoyed that.

Tune in next time for more adventures in kitty adoptions. Until then....

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Days 3 & 4

Well, kitty assimilation seems to be going well. Smidgen has no problems coming out to greet us and asking for love. In fact, as soon as we come into the garage, he comes out almost immediately. Butterball is doing better, but is still slow to come out.

Scott went out to visit with them Saturday and put Smidgen in his lap. He was enjoying the petting and rubbed his face on Scott's when out of the blue, he bit Scott right on the nose. I know he doesn't mean to hurt, but we have GOT to break him of this habit. Scott tied a long string to a catnip mouse and used it to "fish" for Smidgen.

I got Smidgen to jump up in my lap twice, but he doesn't stay but a few seconds. Neither of them like being held at this point. If I pick them up and put them in my lap, they immediately get down. Smidgen will struggle if I try to hold him. Butterball will sit if I hold him, but he isn't relaxed and as soon as I let go, he leaves as quick as he can. I usually don't try to force them, but when taking Jesse to and fro the back door and the kitchen for his food, I put them in their carrier to minimize their stress at this juncture. Butterball has a tendency to hide at the bottom of the stairs and since he is slow to come, I have to go down and get him. I try to hold him for a minute and comfort him, but often he is trembling. When he sees me heading towards him, he flattens himself to the ground.

During times when we are not transporting Jesse back and forth, Butterball still hides, but after I sit out there petting Smidgen for a while, he comes investigating. I think he's jealous. He approaches me and arches his back to be petted. Last night, I tried to persuade him to jump in my lap. He stretched his paw up on my leg, but wouldn't jump up. Still, it's progress from the constant hiding. I hate that he seems so fearful most of the time. I'm glad he will eventually come to me and want petted, but I feel bad that when I am standing or coming towards him that he is so afraid. I usually sit on the floor and he apparently finds that less intimidating.

Smidgen has this weird quirk of acting like he's digging before he takes a drink of water. It's quite cute, but I can't figure out why he does it. The first night, he actually put his paw in the water, like he was digging.

Last night, Smidgen was racing around the garage like a maniac. His brother was watching him like he was possessed. I got out the catnip mouse on a string and played with them. Butterball even dared to play and got really into it.

Smidgen is getting really curious about the kitchen door, so we may let them in the house soon, if they continue to do as well as they have been.

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Day 2

I got up early this morning to see my husband off to work. He broke his ankle a month ago and still requires my help in at least getting his socks and shoe and walking boot on. After he left, I went to the garage to check on the kitties. I was surprised to see that neither was in the carrier. I glanced to the right and saw that someone had used the litter box. Yay! We were afraid that since they had never known kitty litter that we might have problems with them. There were signs that they had nibbled on the food as well. I found Smidgen under the workbench again and Butterball at the bottom of the basement stairs. Butterball was trembling and I figured out that the automatic litter box must have scared them. I comforted him as best I could and then left them alone.

When the kids got up to get ready for school, I checked on them again and found that they were both at the foot of the basement stairs. They were lying side by side, looking like a furry little yin-yang symbol. I put them in their carrier and shut the door so we could take Jesse (the border collie) out. So far, we decided not to introduce them yet. We want to let the kitties acclimate and calm down and gain some confidence first. So, I put them in the carrier, put Jesse on the leash and keep him close by me as I bring him up from his crate in the basement to go outside and to come back in to feed him. Then I let the kitties out again.

I left them alone for the whole morning and then checked on them around lunch time. Butterball was at the bottom of the stairs again and Smidgen was in the carrier. I went down the stairs and sat on the bottom step and petted Butterball. He seemed okay with it, so I picked him up and put him in my lap. He appeared to enjoy the petting. I felt sorry for him because he had a runny nose last night when I put him to bed and in the morning, his left eye was running and goopy. I was worried he may have a cold or be allergic to something at our house. When he wanted down, I allowed him to step off my lap. But, he chose to walk near me and rub against my leg and arm. I petted him and he seemed to like it. When he laid back down, I went to see Smidgen. After a little persuasion, he cautiously crept out of the carrier. I stroked his fur and rubbed his head and he melted. He stalked in circles around me, rubbing against me and arching his back to get the full effect of the petting. He started purring and when I didn't pet him fast enough, he stood on my legs and rubbed his nose and cheek on my face. What a change from the scared kitty that scratched me to get under the workbench yesterday! I was so happy that he was responding to me, I told him we should go get his brother! I went to the bottom of the stairs and picked up Butterball and brought him up. It was like I flipped a light switch! They walked around, curiously investigating the garage. Butterball walked over to the litter box and sat in it. Smidgen was really puzzled and watched him closely. When Butterball got out, he scratched and I saw a wet spot in the litter! I told him what a good boy he was. Smidgen kept going to the litter box and sniffing and checking it out. Even Butterball, who seemed to know what to do with it, was curious about this contraption. He eventually found that he could look out the garage window by standing on Billy's rubbermaid tub of play-doh and ducking his head under the curtain. But, when the litter box motor came on to rake through the litter, they both scattered. One went under the workbench and one to the bottom of the stairs.

I was very encouraged by their progress though. I went out for a few minutes before I picked the kids up from school. Smidgen was in the carrier, Butterball behind a folding table that was leaning against the wall. Smidgen came out almost as soon as I started calling to him. Butterball watched, obviously curious. Smidgen allowed me to pet him thoroughly, then went to the food dish and started eating. That was all Butterball could take. He came out, checked things out, then began nibbling himself. They took turns eating. Then Smidgen went back to the carrier and Butterball gave himself a bath.

When the kids came home, they came out for a visit, one at a time. Smidgen delighted them by coming out and allowing them to pet him and he even played with Kimberly with her homemade cat toy: a feather tied to the end of a string.

Butterball's eye seems clearer tonight, so I am hoping that it was just stress and not an illness. I watched him have diarrhea tonight in the litter box, so I hope that is also from nervousness. On a good note, this time when the litter box motor started up, they didn't run and hide. They were concerned and watched, but they didn't take off. They are very hesitant to get in it and puzzle over it and sniff at it a lot. But, thankfully, they are using it!

I went out and played with them before bed and they were very receptive. They always do better if I get on the floor. When I stand up, they cower. Smidgen welcomed his petting and played for a while and then jealousy must have gotten a hold of Butterball because before I knew it, he came up the stairs and watched us and then came over. He still is not purring when I pet him and neither one will voluntarily get in my lap, but they sure will circle me and rub up against me asking for attention. And Smidgen is often stretching his paws up to my chest/neck to nuzzle my face. Going to have to try to get someone to catch a picture of this. I will have to break him of biting though. He rubs on my hand or licks my finger, then bites. I don't think he is trying to hurt, but sometimes he bites down a little too hard, especially when he does this to my toe. Butterball cracked me up when he discovered that he could see my reflection in part of the workbench. He sat there, swishing his tail, watching raptly, jerking at my every movement. After Smidgen was petted, played, took a long drink, explored a tad, he laid down and relaxed. He stayed on the floor for most of his chill time, but he also tested out the two lawn chairs we left sitting up in the garage for our kitty watching. When I went in the house, they both looked at me like I was abandoning them! I turned off the light tonight, hoping that it will not only help calm them, but get them used to nighttime in our house.

Adventures in Kitty Adoptions, Day 1

My 9-year-old daughter is an animal lover. Many people claim that, but I doubt that they love every kind of animal. My daughter does. I mean, she was mad when I ran over the squirrel as I wrote about in my previous post. Her favorite animal is a snake. She most definitely loves every animal. She is a strange mixture of irony, however. She loves all animals and gets upset if I run over a squirrel, but one of her favorite video games is Cabela's Big Game Hunter. It's very odd to see this little curly-headed animal lover blowing away deer with extreme prejudice. Though she claims she would like to hunt when she is older, I believe with a real gun in her hand, she would not be so quick to pull the trigger when Bambi's dad is on the other end.

I do not claim to be an animal lover. I love certain TYPES of animals. Squirrels, no; dogs, yes; snakes, no; cats, yes; and so on and so forth. However, in my years of pet ownership, I became jaded. I have had 10 cats and 6 dogs pass through my homes. I think of myself as more of a cat person. A couple of the dogs I had were only in my possession briefly, and of those remaining, I only had a strong bond with one of them. As for the cats, after I had 3 die of leukemia, I was heart-broken and didn't want to have a pet I was close to any more. I allowed the kids to keep a stray outside, but was unwilling to let another into my heart.

Two years ago, when my ex-husband and I divorced, I moved into a home with the kids, and a neighborhood cat showed up. At first, I thought he had been left behind by the previous tenants because he had no qualms about coming right in. I eventually learned that he belonged to the people across the street, but he roamed around at will. Sometimes, I would walk through the house and pass Jude as he sauntered along, despite the fact that the doors were all tightly shut and locked. He would find one open window and make himself at home. He never waited for an invitation. I'd sit at the computer and he would jump in my lap and lay there, allowing me to pet him. It was then that I realized how much I had missed having a cat.

My husband had just adopted his border collie when we came along and he wasn't in a hurry to bring in any more pets. Though he had been raised with cats and loved them, he felt we had enough going on in our home and family that we didn't need any cats added to the mix. Eventually he began to think it might be nice to have a puddy tat around, so we began talking about the possibility. I asked for a kitty for my birthday this year and my husband agreed. His mom (a cat lover) bought me a self-cleaning litter box, kitty toys, kitty treats, etc. for my birthday. The plan originally had been for my husband and his mom to go and pick out the kitty for me, but it was agreed by all that I should pick out my own kitty friend. And so the search began....

We started with a shelter near our house, Kansas City Animal Shelter. My husband was asking that I consider adopting an orange tabby, his favorite. I said that I didn't care what it looked like as long as it was a lap cat. We mentioned orange tabbies and they took us to two candidates, Hi-C and Buddy. They were HUGE! Hi-C was very lovable and purring and Buddy was hilarious, laying on his back staring at us with no intention of getting up from his comfy nap position. But, my husband didn't want a kitty quite that big. He said, "I don't want to have to move that thing if I want to sit in my chair!" But, I thought he was a cute fat kitty and probably would have taken Hi-C home, except for the fact that he would never have fit in the cat carrier.

Stop two was PetSmart. We had seen a cat there that we liked a few weeks prior, but we were getting ready to go out of town to our family reunion camping trip, so we felt we shouldn't adopt at that time. When we arrived at PetSmart, there were only 3 cats there and one was already adopted. The other two wouldn't come out of the corner to meet us. I'm sure they would be lovely cats, but it's hard to tell when they don't respond to you.

The next shelter we went to was Independence Animal Control/Shelter. My husband found a little kitten that he liked that was really friendly, but I didn't want a kitten. I found one that I liked that my husband aquiesced to. He was listed as part Bengal, but was a stray and they had just gotten him. When we petted him, we felt a lump. We asked about his health and were told he was so new that he hadn't seen the vet yet. The lady at the front desk went to check it out and thanked us for alerting them because she found an open sore in his skin. They said I could call the next day to check on him after he'd seen the vet.

The next day, we went to the Greater Kansas City Humane Society. The volunteer wanted to show us a cat named Van that she thought would be a good match for us. When we came in the room, I tried to pet Van and pick him up and he scratched my face. Not a good first impression! I looked around and was taken by two cats. One was a black cat and he kept trying to get our attention. He stood on posts and cat beds and reached out his paw to touch us and he jumped in Scott's wheelchair to get his attention. His name was Mercury. But, I was also drawn to a Maine Coon named Stella. She was reaching her paw out to one of the volunteers and looked like she was going to fling herself into the girl's arms. I started petting her and when she decided she enjoyed it, I picked her up. Scott held her too and she snuggled down into both our arms. She slightly twisted so that part of her was laying on her back, which is odd since most cats do not expose their bellies unless they trust you. And she latched onto my shirt with her claws as though she didn't want me to put her down. We filled out an application for her and were told that we would probably hear from someone in 2 days.

I decided not to call back about the other cat since we seemed to have found our match. So, the search ended and we waited. My birthday was the next day and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't have my kitty yet, but excited at the thought of getting her the following day. I was planning to change her name to Bella, possibly. There was even some discussion about also taking Mercury home. The next day, we waited impatiently by the phone. With only 2 hours remaining until the shelter closed, I called them. However, I got voicemail and left a message. The following day, the shelter was closed. The day after that, I called and left another message. Eventually someone called me back. I was told that someone had applied for and been approved for Stella before me. I'm sure the volunteers didn't know this but it would have been nice to know before I waited 4 days for this cat. I asked about Mercury and was told that he too had been adopted.

So, the search renewed. The day was almost over and Scott had to work the next day, so it seemed I would have to wait 2 more days. I was deflated, but I got on petfinder.com and perused. I found 3 kitties that sounded perfect for us, friendly lap cats. One was at a shelter called Wayside Waifs, but they wouldn't be open for 2 days. The other two were at Daviess County Humane Society. I had no idea where this was. I found out it was an hour and a half away. I emailed both and found that all three were still available. The lady from Daviess County said that they often transport kitties to Liberty, which is about 20-30 minutes away from us. Scott wanted to see those, so we made arrangements to meet. And so, yesterday, we brought home Butterball and Smidgen. We are not 100% sure that we are keeping both. Scott never wanted two cats, but it was hard to tell which we wanted so we brought them both home to see. I foresee us all being attached to both and not able to let either go. They are brothers, tiger-striped tabbies. On the website, it said they were born in late June, but they are much bigger than a 3 month old kitten would be, I think. The lady said they were less than a year old. We are going to change their names, but we aren't decided on what yet. We need to do it soon, though, because I keep stumbling over their names.

The kitties had never known anything but their foster mom's house, so this is a big transition for them. First, an hour and a half car ride took them away from their home. Then, they have this new home and new people to get used to. We haven't even introduced our border collie Jesse yet! Another transition was that their foster mom uses shredded newspaper in the litter box, so they have never known kitty litter. We decided that since the litter box and food dishes were going to be in the garage, we would start them off in the garage and let them calm down and get used to things before we let them into the main house. We put down the carriers and let them just breathe for a few minutes without all the jiggling. Then we opened up the crate doors and sat back and watched. After a couple of minutes, Smidgen crept out and went immediately into his brother's carrier. Poor Butterball! His carrier was much smaller and he ended up with his brother on TOP of him! After a while, I took the top off the carrier and tried to pick up Butterball. Smidgen ran and hid under Scott's workbench. Butterball allowed us to hold him and pet him, but wasn't too sure about it. When I picked Smidgen up, he scratched me a little in his attempt to get away. I dug him out of the workbench and tried to block it so he couldn't get under again. They both ended up back in the bigger carrier and didn't budge for hours and later, I found Butterball on top of Smidgen's head, forcing his nose in the corner. Paybacks for earlier, I suppose.

I was a little worried about how scared they are, but I googled it and found that it was common for cats to be afraid when adjusting to a new home. I put on a radio in the garage to get them used to some noise and voices and also to help soothe them with music.

The kids were introduced to them one at a time, quietly. They were so surprised to find that there were TWO kitties in the carrier instead of one.

Since both our moms are interested in how their "grandcats" are doing, I decided to blog about the new fur babies to keep those interested updated. Tune in next time!

Squirrels--3, Robin--1

I never minded squirrels that much. They didn't interest me, but they didn't bother me either. My grandma used to have a "pet" squirrel named Rags. It lived outside in their backyard, but it would take food right out of grandma's hands. But, on the other hand, I was somewhat entertained when my daughter's cat, P.C., killed and ate a squirrel. Squirrels...I could take 'em or leave 'em.

Last summer, I found two of my porch statues broken. They were part of a collection of robins that I have for obvious reasons. I was not happy. One had a sensor on it and chirped any time someone passed it. The other looked like a hanging nest and I put bird seed in it. Since they were on the porch, I assumed that my suspect list was short. My family had not done this heinous crime. There were no cats in the neighborhood at that time. Our dog only goes out in the front yard with supervision. And other than the mailman, there had been no strangers on the porch. Then I realized that squirrels were coming onto the porch and had been using our flower pots to hide their nuts. And so, the feud began.

I tried to run them over in the street, but the little buggers were too fast. My husband teased me about getting a potato gun to shoot them with. Any time I saw a squirrel, I chased it off. My husband almost lost the drink that came with his value meal one day when I returned from picking up lunch to find a squirrel on the porch. I looked around for something to hurl at it, but the only thing nearby was his drink cup. I considered it for a moment and decided that he would not understand the necessity. The kids were mortified one day when I pulled in the driveway and caught a culprit red-pawed, returning to the scene of the crime, digging in a flower pot. I threw the car in park, jumped out and ran towards the creature. It fled in terror at the sight of a wild-eyed housewife thundering toward it. I chased it across the yard to the neighbor's driveway, where it laid down on its tummy under the neighbor's boat, as though it were gloating that it not only got away, but was also out of my reach and could relax, leisurely. You could almost hear a little squirrelly voice saying, "Nanny nanny boo boo!" As I returned to the truck, the kids were looking at me cautiously, as if trying to decide if mom's cheese had slid off her cracker. Eventually, my 10-year-old daughter said, "Mom! The neighbors across the street were outside! And they saw you!" Apparently my obsessive vengeance had overtaken me because I really did not care that my neighbors witnessed my crazed rampage.

My husband and I happened upon more of the robin statues with the motion detectors while at Ace Hardware one day. They were on clearance, so we bought two: one to keep out on the porch (this time on the floor level, instead of at the tempting location of the railing, as before) and another to remain safely inside on the bookcase.

My mother-in-law teased me that she was surprised that when she checked my wishlist for my birthday, she didn't see a BB gun for use on the squirrels (I use wishlist.com for our birthdays and Christmases. I HIGHLY recommend it, especially for out of town friends and family! I wish everyone I knew used it!). I think I would enjoy shooting the little rats, but even though my aim is pretty good, I would probably end up breaking a neighbor's window, denting a car, or injuring someone's pet (although, I might enjoy taking a shot at the chihuahua across the street) so it might not be a good idea to arm me. Though something like a potato gun might be fun. Maybe I should get out my Nerf gun and see if I could amuse myself with that. Maybe I could at least put the fear of God into the filthy rodents if I came packing!

But, I digress. My mother-in-law came up to visit last week and when she went home, she picked up her cat from the vet and sent me this message: "I wanted you to know when I went to pick up Trooper, there was a huge meeting of the cousins of your arch nemesis in the yard (about 10) and I know I heard Robin mentioned so be careful...they are plotting to get you or your robin statue."

So, the other day, the children reported that they found the outdoor one had fallen off the porch and was broken. It wasn't shattered in a million pieces this time, but the base was broken off, exposing the electrical mechanics and part of that was separated, so that I don't think it will ever chirp again. Still angry, I was not as livid as the last time, so long as I had my backup in the house and this was still more or less intact. While it may not serve its primary function, it is still decorative.

Tonight, as I was driving the children to Awana at church, a squirrel ran across the main road and then stopped in my lane. It zigged, it zagged, it ran down the lane, but as I approached, it did not run to cross the street as they usually do. He froze and I would have just rolled harmlessly over him, with him nestled between the wheels. However, the dummy must have panicked and decided to run too late or too early because we felt a small "thump-thump". Arrena said, "You did it, mom! You killed one!" and we high-fived each other. Kimberly, however, wailed. "You killed a squirrel?! You are evil!" Eh, can't please everybody....

So, I have either sent a strong message to the squirrel world...or I have started a turf war.

Why I Have Blue Hair

Some may wonder why I decided to add two blue streaks to my hair recently, as this is something I have never done before. Somewhat out of character for me. I have dyed my hair various shades of "normal" over the years, but never any unnatural colors. Not that I have anything against people with brightly dyed hair, it just never struck my fancy. Until a couple of months ago.

We were watching TV one night, I believe an episode of White Collar. One of the characters on the show had the most beautiful shade of blue streaks in her hair. My husband asked me why I had never done anything like that to my hair before. I said I didn't know. But, I couldn't get that color out of my head. It was so beautiful and I am a sucker for blue, in the right shades. And why had I never done that before? For that matter, why couldn't I do it now? It's only semi-permanent and it wasn't like I wanted a tattoo or anything. So, I called my friend Elizabeth and asked her if she would help me, since she liked to dye her hair from time to time.

Our first attempt didn't turn out that great. The dye we bought was called Ultra Violet, but the hair sample on the shelf showed a deep cobalt blue. Sure enough, though, the dye was purple and turned my hair lavender. Plus, it washed out in four days. I took the dye back and traded it for a different brand that was labeled Cobalt Blue. Elizabeth bleached the two sections behind my ears (and also a couple of wisps that frame my face, so I'd have just a bit lighter streaks for summer). Then she put on the blue dye. After we washed it off, it was like an aqua shade, so she put it back on twice more. Then I put it on three more times when I was at home. Still think it may need one more coat, but it is definitely darker and very close to the shade I want.

I joked that I did this before my surgery so that they wouldn't mix me up with another patient and give me a colonoscopy or amputate my leg by mistake, but it wouldn't have mattered anyways since they put a cap on me, covering my hair. Really, I dyed it because I love color. One of my fetishes is nail polish. I love to buy radical, bright nail polish. Why not bring my love of color into my hair? Another reason I did it was just to try something new, since I had never done it before. Also, I like to be different. I used to try to fit in with everyone when I was younger, but the older I get, the more I just don't care what people think. This makes me happy. When my hubby and I went to the KC Chiefs v. Tennessee Titans football game, I absolutely LOVED wearing my blue Titans gear into that vast sea of red! I loved being different, going against the crowd! Finally, I dyed my hair as a statement. People have first impressions of me. This proves that you can't judge a book by its' cover. You may have thought you had me figured out, but then I go and surprise you. I like blasting perceptions!

My daughters were dead-set against me doing this. They complained that I am too old for this. It doesn't matter that one of their teachers at school dyes her hair, or that one of their Awana directors (the friend who dyed mine) dyes her hair. I am their mom and they didn't want me to do it. But, after it was done, they decided they really like it. Six-year-old Billy loves it because it's his favorite color. Eight-year-old Kimberly says it's really beautiful. And ten-year-old Arrena is coming around to it. She hasn't actually made any positive comments about it, but seems interested and not exasperated. She even asked me if I would put some of my dye on her hair for crazy hair day at school. My husband said it was my hair and I could do what I wanted to with it. He now goes around singing, "Am I blue?" So, if my immediate family can get used to it, then I guess everyone else can learn to like it. Not many have commented on it, but I did get one strange look at church last week. It's still the same me I have always been, just being a little more myself on the outside.

Reasons to Stay Out of Church

In our Sunday school class, we were talking about the reason that many people stay out of church. It was discussed that some people stay out of church because they want to clean up their life first before they decide to follow Christ. However, you can't clean up your life on your own. Another reason I think people stay out of church is because they feel judged by church members. Whether perceived judgement or real, they feel as though the people in the church are "holier than thou." The reality is that the church is not a country club for saints, but a hospital for sinners. Even if the people at church appear to have it all together, whether again by perception or by carefully crafted masks, they are not perfect people.

The Veil

On this Resurrection Sunday, I have been contemplating the veil of the temple. Matthew 27:50, 51 says, "And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom...."

What was the significance of the veil being rent in two pieces? And why from top to bottom? What is the veil in the first place?

The veil in the temple separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple. The Holy of Holies was the dwelling-place of God's presence on earth. Only the high priest was allowed to enter and even then, only once a year to atone for Israel's sins. The veil was symbolic of man being separated from God by his sin. According to the historian Josephus, the veil was around 60 feet high and four inches thick. Josephus goes on to say that two horses pulling in opposite directions could not tear the material that constructed the temple veil.

It's significant that the veil was torn from top to bottom, so that no one could claim that human hands had perpetrated a fraudulent miracle. We know that horses couldn't tear the four-inch-thick fabric--therefore, how could this material be rent in a natural explanation? And in case someone might conceive that it could be accomplished, surely no human could tear a 60 foot veil from the top. As this is recorded specifically in Scripture and elsewhere by historians, we must conclude that this event had witnesses.

So, if the veil was torn by God and not man, why did He do it? There are a couple of theories about this. It could have symbolized God coming down to man. Charles Spurgeon said, "In the East men express their sorrow by rending their garments; and the temple, when it beheld its Master die, seemed struck with horror, and rent its veil. Shocked at the sin of man, indignant at the murder of its Lord, in its sympathy with Him who is the true temple of God, the outward symbol tore its holy vestment from the top to the bottom."

However, the most important significance of the veil being ripped was to signal the end of the old covenant. The old system was done away with. The sacrificial system had ended as Christ once and for all paid the price for sin. There was now no need to continue with ritual or to pay the interest on our sin debt--it was now fully paid! There was now no separation between God and man. Jesus' death made it possible for us to boldly come before God. Jesus is our high priest, who made atonement for our sin, not yearly as the human high priest had done, but once for all. Hebrews has a lot to say about this. In chapter ten, we read, "And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.... Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water." Also, in chapter four, it is written, "Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess....Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

How awesome that we now have access to the throne room of God, through Christ's shed blood!

I had heard about a billboard that was up on the highway near where I live, advertising a church. It was controversial because of some of the things written on the billboard. I finally saw the sign this week and was struck by one of the beliefs of this "church." When I looked up their website, I found: "We do not, however, believe that Jesus is the only way to know God’s presence and experience God’s salvation. That same God or spirit of life and love is present in many religions around the world." For calling themselves a "Church of CHRIST," their belief about Jesus was pretty fishy: "We are not a “liberal” church that says whatever way works for you is fine, we simply recognize that Christianity is our way into the life of God but do not confuse that as being the only way into God who will not be defined by human barriers." Their list of beliefs seemed more like a political or social club, as opposed to a church. Very little of their beliefs had anything whatsoever to do with the Bible.

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that I find it a travesty when humans dictate to God what is right or wrong, what is sin or acceptable, or even how you can get into heaven. How dare we? Who on earth do we think we are? Living in bodies God created, living on a planet that God made, breathing the very air that God brought into being. And yet, we think we can tell God how to run the universe He created? Can we honestly tell HIM under what circumstances that we will be coming to HIS heaven? Do we seriously tell the Creator of everything what we think the rules should be? How arrogant! Can you imagine your child telling you what the rules will be in your house, telling you what they will do, how they will do it, demanding money, etc. from you? Or if a peon in a huge corporation went to the CEO and told him how much salary he demanded to make, the benefits he required, and as long as he was at it, he would rather the company manufacture something different because he wasn't really "feeling" the product? Can you imagine clay on a potter's wheel standing up and telling the potter how he should mold the clay? Of course not! It's ludicrous! God does not run a democracy, folks. It's a theocracy and you better figure out what Theos' requirements are and get in line! Yes, God is loving, but he is God and we are not.

John 3:16 (a short story by Robin Lynn Davidson

Take Two: the following is a second version of a short story I wrote in an earlier blog.

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Emily opened her eyes reluctantly. She blinked in the early morning light slanting through the slats of the blinds. She lay there for a moment, then sighed, shoving back the covers. She reached for the clanging alarm, then pushed herself up to a sitting position and swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. She stumbled to her laundry basket and fumbled through the jumbled up clean laundry. She silently berated herself for not folding it last night, but she'd been so tired. She pulled on a t-shirt and yanked up her sweats. Walking into the living room, she was suddenly aware how quiet the morning was. It was early, but still, the noise of the Bohemian neighborhood could always be heard plainly in her one bedroom, third-floor apartment. She ate her customary morning yogurt (always strawberry flavored) and laced up her shoes. She tucked her key and her cell phone in her pocket and skipped down the stairs. Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she sat on the front stoop to stretch. Then she looked around. No cars. No people. No noise signaling the beginning of the day. Odd, she thought, but didn’t dwell on it long, as she concentrated on stretching her hamstrings. Then she began to run.

Emily was not a morning person by nature. Oh, but how she loved to run! Between her job at the office, her volunteer work at the library, and her large and slightly clingy family, who expected to see her daily, not to mention her mother and sisters constantly setting her up on blind dates, the mornings were all she had left. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running from something when she jogged. Even so, when the wind whipped through her hair and her muscles burned and the only sound in her ears was her breathing and footfalls, she felt free and in control. She felt like she could be herself and think clearly. When she felt the sun on her face, she could imagine she was flying.

Somewhere around the sixth block, Emily thought again about the peculiar quietness this morning. She looked around and couldn’t recall seeing a single person since she’d left her apartment or even a single car passing her as she ran. As endorphins gradually charged up her sleepy mind, puzzlement replaced her morning reverie. Block after block she glanced from side to side. She looked down each crossroad. She looked up at balconies and peered into store windows. All was quiet and dark. There were no people waiting at the bus stop, no paperboys delivering stacks of newspapers, not even a dog barking. She took a turn off her usual route and headed for the market district. There was always lots of activity there, at any time of day. As she rounded the last corner, she stopped short. There was no hustle, no bustle. She panted, not from exertion, but from the beginnings of fear and shock. She pulled out her cell phone and called her mother. Her phone beeped and ended the call. She called her sister. Another beep. She checked her signal--she had five bars. She tried her other sister, her best friend, her dad, everyone in her contact list but not one call went through.

Emily strode towards one of her favorite restaurants and pulled on the door. Locked. She turned and went across the street to the boutique that her friend’s mom owned. The door was locked, but she went around to the back and let herself in with a hidden spare key. She walked through the store, aware of silence and loneliness pressing in on her as blank-faced mannequins stared. Maybe a landline would work. She went to the phone on the counter and dialed her mother, but a beep welcomed her and the phone went dead. Suddenly, relief washed over her as she decided that this must be some sort of prank her loved ones were pulling on her. But, how would they make the streets deserted? Maybe she was on a TV show, like Candid Camera. Or maybe today was a holiday and there was a parade somewhere and everyone had gone to watch. She glanced at the calendar next to the cash register and decided it wasn’t any holiday that she was aware of. Maybe I'm still asleep. Maybe this is a really vivid dream. Emily pinched herself to check. Nope, she was awake. Did I miss the memo? she wondered. Where is everyone? She dialed 911, but to no avail. Panic swept over every inch of her body and she felt an anxiety attack looming in her near future.

The urge to run was strong. Emily dashed out the back door without bothering to lock it behind her. As she ran, she passed her empty office, the vacant library, a park devoid of any activity. She ran all the way to her best friend’s apartment, but found it the same as the entire city seemed to be--deserted. Emily ran and thought and struggled to put it all together. She gradually became aware that somewhere along the way, the landscape around her had changed.

She was on a dusty dirt road and as she turned in a circle, she could see sand and rocky terrain over most of the horizon. She saw mountains: a confusing sight, considering she lived in the plains. Where had the city gone? Where was she? This nightmare was getting more and more bizarre. She walked towards some buildings that she assumed was a city. It looked like something out of a history book. Or at the very least, something from a middle eastern country. The buildings were squared off and made of stone. It looked ancient. She wandered the streets, wondering where she was. Or when she was, for that matter. I've jogged far before, but this is ridiculous, she tried to joke to herself, ignoring the tremor in her voice. After cautiously walking down several streets and seeing no one, she thought she heard a noise. She followed the sound down several more streets. It grew louder and louder until she was sure it was the clamor of a whole crowd of people. Finally! She started to cry in relief. She broke into a trot and followed the sound. As she reached a hill on the other side of the city, the noise stopped and there was no crowd anywhere to be seen. The only thing she saw was a wooden cross and a man hanging on it.

She saw the man and he saw her. Really saw her. He was dying, but she could see comfort in his eyes, as though he were comforting her. There was something else there too. She felt as if he knew her. She could tell he knew everything that she had ever done. She could almost see all of her actions played out in the air between them, as though on a movie screen. Her eyes dropped to the ground in a shame she did not comprehend.

"Daughter," said a strong, yet gentle voice. "Do not look away."

Emily reluctantly looked up to the man again. This time, when she looked into his eyes, she saw a love there that she had never seen before. But, the love wasn't just spelled out in his eyes. It was also written in the blood that was spilling from his body, from the crown of thorns on his head, from the nails that were piercing his hands and feet, holding him to a cross. No, that was wrong--the nails didn't hold him to the cross--love did. She gasped.

"Who is he?" she whispered, in awe.

"He is my beloved son, in whom I am well-pleased."

Emily had been to church once or twice and was sure that this man must be Jesus. Was the voice God? There was so much she didn’t understand, but all she could think to ask was, "But...why is he...dying?"

"Because I loved the world so much that I gave my one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. My prophet Isaiah wrote that he is pierced for the world's transgressions, crushed for their sins, the punishment that brings them peace is upon him and by his wounds they are healed."

"But, where is the world? I mean, where is everybody? I have looked all day and I can’t find anyone. And…where and when am I?"

"Today, my child, you are the world. You mean the world to me. I brought you here to show you that my son came to die for YOU."

Emily thought about her life. She wasn’t a bad person, she didn’t think, but she was far from worthy. She thought of the many mistakes she had made. She saw flashes of lies and pain and selfishness in her mind’s eye. Tears of regret slid out from underneath her lashes.

"No, no, no! I am not worth it! My life is not worth your life! How can you love me so much that you would die for me? Don't you know that I am nothing?"

"Of course I know you, child. I made you. I created your inmost being and knit you together in your mother's womb. I have watched you grow. I have a purpose for your life. And you are worth it to me. I love you enough to send my son to die for you. Not just the whole world, but you alone. You individually. If you were the only person on earth, he would still die for only you."

"But why? Who am I to deserve this?” Emily's throat and heart ached with tears and sorrow for the cost that this man Jesus was willing to pay.

"Because without his taking the punishment for your sins, we would be separated forever, my child, and that's not something that I can live with. I want you with me. For all eternity. This is my gift to you. Will you accept my gift?"

Emily's heart suddenly soared at the sound of the voice and the love she felt enveloping her completely. She felt a warmth pulse through her veins. She had never felt love like this before and was sure that she never would again. Yet, she was sure that this love that was being offered to her would carry her through her life and beyond the grave. She looked up into the face of the man dying for her alone, her face still wet with tears, but gratitude written on every inch of her expression, and whispered, "Yes!"

My Dichotomy

You know, there is a raging battle that goes on inside of me. On the one hand, I have always wanted to be liked. I would feel utter despair if anyone did not like me. It seemed a failure on my part. I wanted to please and be liked. I am a people-pleaser. Yes, I had self-esteem issues. I have been known to become physically sick to my stomach if there was a disagreement between myself and someone else. But, on the other hand, I am very opinionated. These two traits do not go together. To be a people-pleaser, you must do what everyone else wants you to do and deny yourself. And vice versa, to express your opinions, you will inevitably tick some people off who disagree. Which brings in my third wretched trait...I cannot deal with confrontation. This is why I have a blog! I can say what I want. I can rant, rave, express my opinions and yet never have to deal with any confrontation. Even on the off-chance that someone makes a negative comment on my blog, I have the ability to ignore the comment and try to make myself believe it never happened. But, you know that the people-pleaser in me will fester and stew over what that person said.

Which brings me to my revelation, my mantra. I do not care what other people think. There is only One that I seek to please. Galatians 1:10 "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ." And while I am not perfect and do not always please Christ, his is and always will be the approval I seek to gain.

You Either Love Me or You Will Hate This Blog...Just Warning Ya

Maybe I am crazy for posting about this, but as it's MY blog, I'll write what I want! If you don't like it, don't read it. Or go write your own blog to debate my position.

Tonight I saw a link to an article written in the newspaper of my alma mater. It was embroiled in controversy, touted as anti-LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, for those of you are aren't hip to acronyms--and if you aren't, hello?!? This is AMERICA and everything is referred to in acronyms, making the English language so much harder for foreigners to navigate, ha, ha). I read through the article, expecting to be as shocked and outraged as the article about it suggested I should be. I was sadly disappointed. I was more outraged at the fallout the article has created. And that the article ABOUT the article claimed it contained things that it clearly did not say.

First off, let me say that the article was not well-written. It is really unclear. At the beginning of the article, the writer seems to be on the side of LGBT students, but by the end, seems to have made an 180° turn to the right-wing. Of course, it was written by a high school student and perhaps his writing will improve over time. However, now I am thinking that if this is the standard for writing on my high school's newspaper, maybe I should have applied twenty years ago, been a star, and set myself on a different career path! But, I digress....

Before I go further, I must strive not to pigeonhole myself as anti-gay or prejudicial. I have friends of many races, nationalities, ethnicities, religions, sexual orientation, etc. I have a couple of lesbian friends whom I love (purely platonically, that is). One has read this blog before and if she does again, I hope she will not disown me as a friend! I have black friends, Vietnamese friends, Korean friends, Catholic friends, Atheist friends, etc., etc., etc. We may not look the same or agree on everything, but they are my friends; I do not see skin color or an "ism" when I look at my friends. However, I have my beliefs, which are based on the Word of God, which I believe to be true and eternal and unchangeable. That is the law that I base my life upon. As for the rest, they are my soapbox preferences and rantings. I hope that you are able to tell the difference between the two. God's Word is clear on prejudices: Galatians 3 says, "for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise."

What irked me the most about this article was that the LGBT community and supporters were so outraged about the printing of this story. I loved the response from the paper's editors: "(Student's name) has rights protected by the Kansas Student Publications Act, which states that 'Material shall not be suppressed solely because it involves political or controversial subject matter.' Although his editorial was interpreted by many as distasteful, he has a legal right to publish his beliefs. An unwillingness to enforce those rights would be destructive to the freedom of press in its entirety and make it hypocritical for the 'Messenger' to allow students to publish material in favor of LGBT relationships in the future." Since when does freedom of speech only apply to certain groups? They are right. How completely hypocritical to want to publish pro-whatever your affiliation and then get mad when someone publishes something anti-whatever your affiliation. The response goes on to say that many pro-LGBT articles had been published in the past. Now, if those had been squelched, the LGBT community would be screaming discrimination and infringement of their first amendment rights to free speech and freedom of the press. The same should be afforded the opposite viewpoint. Freedom is a two-edged sword. You have the freedom to worship and believe as you choose, but you must allow others who disagree with you to do the same. To be honest, I no longer think that we have freedom of speech in this country. Anything said anti-whatever renders the speaker guilty of being close-minded, a bigot, prejudiced, or accused of hate crimes.

My husband made a good point this evening. He told me about an episode of the TV show Southpark, which I never watch. In it, they discussed the opinion that there shouldn't be any hate crimes because ALL crimes stem from hate. If you murder someone, do you not hate them? If you beat someone up, isn't it out of hatred? Why does the color of someone's skin or their beliefs make it a hate crime?

I get highly offended by reverse racism. When I was ready to go to college, I began to look for scholarships to help with the cost of school. I couldn't find any! I found scholarships if I was black, Hispanic, lesbian, blind, handicapped, etc. But nothing for a white girl who made good grades and graduated 4th in her class of around 250. Seriously. I considered applying for the Hispanic one since I was married to a Mexican-American and had the Hispanic last name. I even considered applying for the lesbian one--I mean, how could they prove that one, one way or another?! But, you know that if there was a scholarship out there for whites or straights, there would be a huge controversy about how racist that was. I think having scholarships that exclude whites or straights is just as racist.

Granted, I know that slavery was very, very wrong. I am 100% opposed to it and feel sorrow that the practice ever existed. However, to use affirmative action to promote an individual people group smacks of "two wrongs don't make a right." According to Wikipedia, "Affirmative action refers to policies that take factors including 'race, color, religion, sex, or national origin' into consideration in order to benefit an underrepresented group, usually as a means to counter the effects of a history of discrimination." In other words, reward people who have done nothing to merit reward, based on what their ancestors may have suffered in history. Okay, let's take a look at history. Were blacks the only ones who were ever used as slaves? No. The Bible talks about the Israelites being slaves of the Egyptians. The U.S. still has cases of farm workers being enslaved, which are usually illegal immigrants and primarily Hispanic. China still has slavery in many regions, even though it is outlawed. The Middle East is another area that is still dealing with slavery. There are an estimated 40 million people in India that are living as slaves. Brazil's government recently freed thousands of slaves. According to statistics of the U.S. State Department, 80% of slaves trafficked across national borders in 2006 were women and girls and 50% were minors. Slavery, or human trafficking, is not contained to one country or continent or ethnic group. It is a tragedy worldwide for all mankind. Are white people to blame for slavery? Certainly whites participate in human trafficking. However, there are also many whites who have and still do fight against slavery. And whites were not and are not the only people group to participate in the slave trade. I have read that in previous centuries, the way slave traders obtained their victims was from African tribal leaders. They sold their own people into slavery! Wikipedia states that, "Victims are typically recruited through deceit or trickery (such as a false job offer, false migration offer, or false marriage offer), sale by family members, recruitment by former slaves, or outright abduction." Sale by family members or recruitment by former slaves. In Africa today, pygmies are enslaved by the Bantu people. Black on black crime? As the victims of human trafficking are a veritable who's who of the world's people groups, so are perpetrators of this heinous act also a catalog of the planet's ethnic groups. Why, therefore, does it seem that whites only are to blame for enslaving blacks? Why, in America, are whites to stand back as this country makes up for past wrongs that we personally didn't even commit and those who benefit from it didn't even suffer? Why can't I get a scholarship? I know that blacks and various other ethnic groups still face the sting of prejudice from idiots that think being different is a crime. But, I hate when we all have to pay for some morons that don't know how to act like human beings.

I am a student of ancestry--one of my ancestors was of royal lineage in England and was disowned. Can I get some restitution on that injustice? One of my ancestors was American Indian and they were treated even worse in this country than blacks were, so she hid her heritage. Can I get reparations for that? I can dig farther.... I am sure every family has some injustice somewhere in their history. You can't make all past wrongs right. And to say that all whites must pay because all blacks have suffered is not only an untrue statement, it's stereotypical.

Okay, so I got off-course from my primary subject, which was LGBT. Sorry, sometimes I step from soapbox to soapbox.

The article that the high school student published contained some Bible verses from the book of Leviticus. Quoted was Leviticus 18:22 "Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable." as well as Leviticus 20:13 "If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads." In another passage, God commands that someone who has committed adultery should be stoned to death. This shows how strongly God feels about the sin of adultery. And anyone who has suffered at the hand of an adulterous spouse knows how damaging that act is. I speak from experience. I was reading last night about Sylvia Plath's suicide. I believe, from what I read, that her depression leading her to put her head in her own oven was caused primarily from her husband's infidelity, which, incidentally, also caused his mistress to commit suicide in similar fashion. God felt so strongly about adultery that he made the commission of it a crime worthy of capital punishment and made it the only condition under which divorce would be acceptable. I believe these passages in Leviticus tell us likewise how strongly God feels about homosexuality. These were not the laws of men, but laws given to men by God. In Genesis 19, Lot receives angelic visitors in Sodom. The men of the city urge him to bring out the men he is entertaining so that they may have sex with them. Lot offers them his two daughters instead of allowing them to abuse his guests. While this is repugnant to think that Lot would offer his daughters up to be molested, I think it shows how much more repugnant are the homosexual acts that the men wanted to perform. Where do you think the term "sodomy" comes from?

I know there are churches that welcome gay and lesbian lifestyles, and even pastors that are gay. I am always puzzled by this. How do they get past the passages in the Bible that blatantly state that homosexuality is a sin? Do they pick and choose what to believe? How can you do that? How can you trust any of the Bible if parts of it are not true? It's either all true or none of it is true. If you can't trust what's sin and what's not, how can you believe that there is a heaven or that Jesus died and rose again? Is God not God? How can individuals dictate what is and is not sin? How do you presume to say that God is wrong and we are going to decide for ourselves what is right and what's wrong? In First Corinthians 15, there is a passage where the biblical claim of Christ's resurrection was questioned: "And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead....And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.... If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied." If parts of the Bible are not true, how can you be sure that any of it is? And if it is questionable, why would you follow it? And if it's doubtful, what hope have you for any life after death?

And lest you think that the Old Testament is old and out of date, which it is not, the New Testament also speaks against homosexuality. Romans 1 has a passage on the subject. In First Timothy 1, homosexuals, as well as other purveyors of sin, are called, "lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious." There's no mistaking what the Bible says about homosexuality. It is sin, it is wrong.

When I hear about churches that embrace the LGBT lifestyle, it reminds me of another church that I disagree with and wrote about not that long ago. At the risk of offending and enraging some, in my mind, they are similar to Fred Phelps' "church." I know that would burn Fred Phelps up to be likened to an LGBT church, as it probably sickens LGBT church-goers to be equated with a parasite like Fred Phelps. However, the trait that links them inconceivably together is that they create their own truth. They believe what they want to believe. They pick and choose what parts of the Bible are important and what can be discarded as old-fashioned or negligible, inconsequential, insignificant.

However, the law in Leviticus had a purpose, which the high school writer either did not know or did not discuss. It was meant to show mankind that it can never be good enough. Mankind can never be perfect enough to reach God. Homosexuality is only one sin. There are many. And ALL violations of the law are equally sin. The law is meant to show that there is only one way to God and that is through accepting the sacrifice of His Son Jesus. But, in accepting Jesus as Savior, we are to see our sin as He sees our sin and turn from it, repent. That means leaving it behind. If the sin is homosexuality (or whatever your sin of choice), it means leaving it behind, not sitting in a church that condones it and thinking you're right with God. It doesn't mean perfection, but it means a change in direction, turning and going God's way, not your way, not the world's way. It is possible! I know a woman who was once a lesbian, but now walks with Jesus and left that lifestyle behind!

I do not hate LGBTs. Like I said early in this post, I love my friends who are lesbians the same way I love any of my friends that don't agree with me. If I surrounded myself only with friends that agreed with me 100%, I'd be a lonely woman. In my previous post about Fred Phelps, I mentioned the church that I used to attend that was picketed by his "church" because our pastor taught that we love the sinner, but hate the sin. In other words, we love people of all shapes and sizes, colors, and walks of life. But, we do not always love the things that they do. We condemn behavior, not people. That's what I believe. I love people, but I disagree with the things that they do. Because, as Christians, that's what we are called to do. We are called to be Christ-like and Jesus loved the world enough to give his life for it, while we were yet sinners, not after we cleaned up our act and were worthy of him. But, he also hated sin. That's Jesus' purpose, to save us from our sins, to take them away so that we can be with him who loves us. When we refuse to leave our sin, and wallow in it, I am reminded of a Ray Boltz song, which is ironic since he decided that he is gay: "Do you still feel the nails every time I fail? Have I crucified you Jesus with my sins? Oh I'm tired of playing games, I really want to change. I never want to hurt you again." To think that that one sin, whatever it is...that we insist on holding on to...cost Jesus his life. Is it really worth that?

I must admit that I am proud of my old alma mater in at least one respect. When I was a student there, I wrote a research paper from a Christian world view. I was personally castigated by my English teacher for my viewpoint. He had asked for controversial topics and when he didn't like my position, he very bluntly let me know about it, in a most unprofessional way. He made a half-hearted, nearly unrecognizable apology after the principal forced him to. Therefore, I am somewhat surprised that the school not only allowed a conservative article to be published, but defended its right to publish it as well. So, in opposition to many, I have to say that I am glad for the publishing of that article...even if I could have written a better one.

And to all that I may have offended, I am truly sorry. It is not meant to offend. I love you. But, in America, we have the freedom to disagree.