The Grinch That Tried to Steal Christmas

Last night for the third year in a row I went to the Ozark City School Bands Christmas Concert to watch our friend Justin play. It consists of three bands starting with the beginners playing Christmas Music. It's always a treat and I look forward to it every year.

The last piece played by the high school band was a medley from the original Grinch that Stole Christmas, the one with the Dr. Seuss comic drawings. . I had to chuckle at the coincidence while listening to "You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinnnnncccch . . . You're a bad banana With a greasy black peel!"

It's the same theme I plan to teach at the jail this month.

Only this version isn't a cute cartoonish story.

Enter, the Terminator movies. Yeah, yeah, I know. Robots from the future didn't travel back in time to try to kill Jesus. Truth be told, the real version is actually freakier, yet all Christendom lives with it like it's nothing.

Think about it - two eternal beings bent on destroying each other vying for power in a temporal world. One is bent on saving the temporal world, the other on destroying it.

And being eternal, the bad one uses time, and time again to prevent the good one from his ultimate mission to save the temporal world. How? He tries to keep him from being born. In order to save the temporal world the good eternal being has to become temporal.

So here you have this huge plot to keep him from coming at all. Key persons are targeted for destruction. Didn't work. Mass genocide is scheduled to destroy all potential ancestors. A single key player prevented it from happening. And in the end he does come.

Enter - The Grinch, i.e. Herod: A despot so full of himself that he orders the slaughter of babies to prevent anyone from threatening his power. This was Satan's last ditch attempt to destroy Jesus before having to deal with him face to face. Had he succeeded, there wouldn't be a Christmas to celebrate, let alone any other good thing in life.

Despite all obstacles Jesus did fulfill his mission. After all, He IS God. He made a way for those in the temporal world (like me!) to be saved. (Yeah!) His mission was his own death, burial and resurrection.

And that is what Christmas is all about.

Love in a Jar

This evening I got into my stash. Yes, I have a stash. It is kept in a box in a bottom cabinet and nobody gets into it but me. And I only get into it on special occasions.

I’ve had an occasion or two recently to get into it. A visitor came last week and knowing the gentleman’s fine taste, I broke out the box. Only a connoisseur would appreciate it, and he did indeed enjoy the samples he selected.

I got it out again this evening. I had acquired several new specimens to add to my collection and needed to rearrange everything. As I did I thought back over the last several years. I generally don’t partake in the evenings as I did tonight, but somehow I couldn’t help it. Call it the lust of the flesh or whatever, I love my Honey.

Yes, I love Papa Horton with all my heart, but I love my collection of fine, and some rare honeys too. I have specimens Australia, New Zealand and Italy, and quite a few gourmet American honeys. My most recent gourmet acquisition is (Black) Titi, harvested by the above mentioned gentleman who is an outstanding beekeeper.

I couldn’t help but think of all the love that went into this box – the strawberry honey from Mr. Joe’s pollination experiment, the creamed peach honey from his backyard. Several beekeepers from around Alabama have donated samples of fine honey to our club and my kids have blessed me with unusual honeys from their travels. I have an ole timey jar of chunk honey thanks to Brian; cranberry honey from New England compliments of Mike. Cindy started it all with a jar of Outback Honey from Australia. Becky was with me when I found the Michigan Star thistle and Basswood honey.

The Bible records several instances when honey was given as a gift of goodwill. It makes sense. I had to smile as I thought of all the love and goodwill I’ve received over the last few years. Today was a rough day for me and the honey, while I know it was good for me, was only part of the blessing. No matter what you call it, it’s still love in a jar.

Driving the Caddy or No Ghosts in this Car

After my auto accident a week ago God did a totally unexpected and wonderful thing - he provided another set of wheels. It's temporary, a rental car, but most appreciated. My mom came to visit and getting around was imperative. Truth is, I'm probably enjoying the car a little too much. You see, while my Ins. company approved the car, it was a sweet girl at Enterprise Rentals who actually picked out the car, and I've been driving a Cadillac SRX. It's a sweet ride, and has more bells and whistles than I could learn in a month. The other evening I accidentally hit the OnStar button (trying to turn a light on - duh!) and found myself talking to a real person who graciously excused my ignorance.

This morning on the was to Ozark I found myself reminiscing about how much my Dad loved Cadillacs. I guess he drove them a good thirty years or more. My second summer home from college he handed me the keys to his blue one and I used it for work. When I graduated from college the pimp around the corner in our trailer court drove around and around the court eyeballing Dad's new yellow Caddy. It was the exact year, make, model and color as his own - only it had Alabama plates. It was too weird.

Maybe it was the mellow music, maybe it was because I've not grieved deeply over my Dad's passing, but for a moment, just a moment, it was almost like he was close to me. I had this insane sense that he and Jesus were in cahoots in choosing this particular car for me. My Biblical Baptist theology rejects the idea of Dad having any influence in the process, after all, Jesus is our only intercessor, but it's not beyond belief that maybe, just maybe, Jesus put his arm around my Dad and said, "Carl, you see that girl of yours down there? She's going through a real tough time right now and I want to do a little something to show her that I love her but I also want her to think of you."

The last thing Dad told me the last time I saw him was that he was proud of me. Looking back it means a lot. So I drive - and deep in my heart I know Dad would be pleased.

I have a precious friend who should have received Mother of the Year every year for the last twenty. She's pushing seventy and has a house full of bright and energetic teenagers. I know, I know, it's biologically improbable. Truth is, when her biological children all reached adulthood, they adopted. And they didn't take the easy route, they adopted abused children and crack babies.

I've found myself a bit jealous here lately. Our home has been very quiet the last week and a half. Becky left for college not long after Dad passed away and well, the nest is . . . you know.

So far I don't care for it. First of the day's, rare now, are long distance. There's no piano music and no soft singing. The cat doesn't love me the way it loved Becky.

They say this is a transition, a new phase of life and we will get used to it and will even enjoy it. I don't know. Dad and I seem to be getting on each other's nerves a lot lately. Old familiar places and faces, especially church, push my buttons. It's almost like a heavy fog where you can't see what's around you or what direction you're going.

To that I'm just glad I've got a compass, better yet, an autopilot. I think the best thing I can do is just let God set the cruise control and sit back for the ride, albeit bumpy.

Dad and the Full Moon

My father was a man of the outdoors - he could tell what the weather would be like by the sky or the way the leaves curled on a tree. He could tell from the way animals behaved in the late summer what kind of winter to expect.

I should not be surprised that the same kind of knowledge is carrying him to his final resting place.

I found out this morning that by brother in law, some cousins and the neighbor boys he hunted with went up to the church last night and dug dad's grave. It was a precious, fitting tribute.

And it brought what was to me, a bit bizzare, bit of additional folklore - there won't be enough dirt to fill the hole.

Apparently it has something to do with last night's full moon and the earth's gravitational pull. I googled it and found various explanations . (By the way - DO NOT google "grave digging" or "dig grave" and "full moon" in the same search!)

Whatever the case, I learned something from my dad, again.

Escape from I-Land

Remember Patch the Pirate? I deliberately raised the kids on Patch - partly because the songs and stories were so daggone good, and partly because I liked them too. I think my favorite was the Misterslippi River Race. Everything about that recording touched a deep, deep south part of my soul. It was a different story with a different villain that I thought about today, King Me First, of Kidnapped on I-Land.

King Me-First's given name was CW. He was a cute impish kid who's dad was away on business a lot. When he was very small he was stricken with a deadly illness and his overwrought mother catered to his every need in fear of losing him. He survived though and became a healthy boy, romping in the woods and learning the ways of the outdoors. The patterns of behavior that were established during his illness never changed however. He became manipulative and conniving and his parents caved in to his every whim all the way to adulthood. This way of relating to the world around him carried over into his own family and caused untold heartache for his wife and daughters. Even in his love for his family, King Me First was always . . . first.

He's an old man now, and the consequences of a lifetime of selfish behavior have taken their toll. His suffering has been profound and we've been told by a man of God that the only reason he's still alive is that God is still trying to do a work in his heart. I found out this morning that he's dying. His kidneys are shutting down and rumor around the hospital is that he won't leave there alive.

But something profound has happened . . . for the first time ever to my knowledge he put someone else first. Twice today, through gasps for breath and a slurred tongue he's asked my mom if she would be ok.

Dad, this person who spoke today . . . where has he been the last fifty years?

Busy, Busy Summer!

I guess I've been wrong all my life. For some reason I thought people slowed down with age, but it don't seem to be happening that way for me. We've just finished our last year with a school age child at home and it ain't happening!

I even thought I'd get a much needed day for myself today, but it didn't happen either. Cindy's down for the birth of another godchild and went to the first ever Grace Bible Academy reunion. I was invited but Norman wasn't big on the idea so I wasn't going to go until . . . I spotted the blouse. It was her birthday present and I knew she had planned to exchange it, so I went - with Norman's blessing.

This is where I stop and ponder God's doings when he orders our steps.

The reunion was very informal and nothing was really planned beyond visiting and eating. We were only there five years so there were a lot of young people prior to us and after us that I didn't know. To be honest, I didn't recognize most of the ones I DID know. And all the teachers had aged as bad or worse than I had. At least I knew them though.

Because of a more mutual recent acquaintance there was one young lady I wanted to seek out. When we finally did get a chance to visit the years "in between" broke my heart for her, and I was blessed to see the dignity and grace in which she handled a most difficult family situation. And I also saw how God had replaced all she was denied through other Christians who love and appreciate her for who she is.

Another thing to ponder was God's timing in moving our family away from that school and that church. I have to admit that I didn't go happy. In fact I was pretty put out with God for forcing it on us. He knew what he was doing. I just found that out today.

I knew a lot of junk happened after we left. What I didn't know was that the depth of the divisions and disagreements that happened, or the extent of the pain that was suffered. God saw it coming. We were forcibly moved to avoid all that and also so we could heal from our own previous battle wounds. It didn't happen that way for many of my friends and their kids, and their absences today were noticeable.

But back to BUSY . . . Becky and Zack arrived in Costa Rica today. Tomorrow they'll minister in a church and visit an orphanage. Other ministry events are planned for the week.

Nephew Zack was with us 9 or 10 days before they left Friday. Like Beck he just graduated. We've had a boatload of fun - I'd lost sight of just how different guys are. I don't think any of us have been to bed before midnight since he's been here.

And last night was a wonderful evening with friends at Ft. Rucker and seeing fireworks. John and Connie will be moving in a couple of weeks, and we'll miss them sorely. VERY sorely. But I understand. I'm just glad we get to keep friends like that forever. :)

Things will switch gears on the kids return. We'll have Zack another week and plan a trek to Pensacola. After that it will be the final countdown to college. I don't like to think that far ahead. I'm glad God reminded me that even the painful things are for our good. I know it will be good for Becky. I smile through the tears forming at the edge of my eyes knowing that God has something for us parents too.

Catching up with Toto

Family and long time acquaintances remember Antoine, our first French exchange student. It's a long story how we made this crazy decision but the long and short of it is that one August day some years back we picked up a skinny boy from the airport who could barely communicate with us. It turned out to be an incredible year for us, for him and for GW Long where he attended school.

The last we heard from Toto was right after 9/11. His family called to make sure we were ok. It was a sweet gesture. They are good people. At some point we lost contact with him after a Christmas card was returned. It was no surprise, we couldn't expect him to live at home with his parents forever.

So I've checked online for him every once in a while. I'll spare you the details of point Point A to Point B, but as I write I just checked his GPS position a few minutes ago and watched him on youtube.

Antoine dreamed of driving. One of his great disappointments while here was that we couldn't get the needed papers to take driver's ed. It turns out in the years since he returned to Europe that his older brother became a race car driver and Antoine has joined the family racing team as Navigator for Nicholas. They've got a huge following.

At this writing Team Gibon, Nicholas et' Antoine, is participating in the TransOrientale, the longest rally race in the world. They started in St. Petersburg, Russia about six days ago and will end in Bejing, China sometime toward the end of the month.

Am I proud? Yes. The message we received right before they left from Russia left no doubt that his time here helped shape him into a fine man.

And in case anyone is interested, here's the links:
teamgibon.fr check on "Pilotes" for photo
race site lots of photos, video and interactive stuff
the brothers on youtube Antoine appears briefly while Nicholas (in white) is talking

Buster and the Chickens

We've noticed for a while that our dog thinks he's a chicken. We got him as a small pup and he grew up with our free range chickens. While he IS a dog, sometimes he does chicken like things. Like eat banana peels and cantaloupe rind. I guess as many times as they've helped themselves to his dog food when his back was turned he may as well hog theirs when the opportunity comes up.

Two weeks ago my dh had to confine the chickens to the coop. It was a hard decision as we all enjoy them so much, but they were scarfing down the tender young vegetable plants in the garden as soon as they came up. There was no way to keep them out without encasing the entire garden in chicken wire, including the top. Large garden plus lots of chicken wire equals lots of expense. Nope. The chickens had to stay put a while.

Enter heat wave. Yeah, it's been bad here. Even with extra shade and plenty of water they've not done well and we lost three layers this week. My dh was devastated. He buried two of them deep near the edge of the garden yesterday.

We knew the dog missed the chickens. He had caught him in the coop with them (he'd dug himself in) just hanging out and enjoying their company a couple of times. Maybe he was "sharing" their scratch feed and water too, we don't know. But this morning as I enjoyed a quiet moment on the screen porch before it got too hot I heard something sad - Buster was howling just off to my left. I wasn't able to see him, but he was howling - a sad slow howl. It seemed odd but I didn't give it a lot of thought till I got the car a bit later.

The howl came from a spot where a dead chicken lay. It was a pretty bad sight and I wasn't about to go near the disgusting thing, so I did what any good farm wife would do. I got my husband. Turns out Buster had dug her up. I don't know if he was trying to encourage her to get up and walk around with him or what, but he was howling, mourning over his friend.

There's a verse in the Bible about all creation groaning in travail while the earth waits for redemption. I would have never thought that a half wolf dog would mourn over the loss of a chicken, but that's exactly what happened.

Waving at Thunderclouds

I just heard the most beautiful sound I've heard in weeks - THUNDER! It's been another long dry spring and for the second year in a row the bees haven't made their normal quota of honey. There's probably a spiritual lesson in there somewhere but as it is my poor brain hasn't quite figured it out.

Suffice it to say I'm thrilled. If I thought it would do any good I'd go out like the hungry children in third world countries and wave like they do to the approaching cargo plane carrying humanitarian aid. I doubt the clouds would pay attention though, and I'd probably get struck by lightening.

I've spent a good part of my life playing it safe. As a mom I was constantly teaching my kids safety. Don't play with matches (Brian!), don't hang from the rafters (Mike!), don't make three point turns in curves or go wandering off in the woods (Cindy!) and don't talk to strangers (Becky!). These words of widsom were addressed to the issues I knew about (emphasis on the italics). It's the issues I didn't know about that leave me shaking my head and thanking God for watching their backs when neither their dad nor I were around to do so.

I think in adult life each of them have had the pleasure of dealing with their own unique "mom" warnings. I've lost track of the cars that have burned to toast in Brian's care. Mike got his lesson early on with a nasty compound fracture. Cindy . . . well she still drives like a mad woman and camps by herself, and I think Becky has decided that she should only witness to women or children.

Now that they're all grown however I'm cautiously learning to throw caution to the wind. Maybe the bees have helped with that. I mean after all, learning to shrug off a few stings is something of an accomplishment. I didn't worry about sunburn or what the neighbors would think wearing a tank top all day Saturday. Lila still accompanies me but I rarely give her any thought. I crave to ride the horses again. I want to go on the next family excursion to Norway or Kuwait.

Coming close to death may have something to do with it too. It's been a year and a half now.

But whatever the case, I know my days are numbered, and only God knows what that number is. That being the case I'm hanging on to something I heard, that I'm invincible as long as I'm in His service and care. That's cool. So I think I'll go out and wave at the clouds. Maybe God will see me and let some of that wet stuff fall.

Today is Memorial Day. This holiday has kind of expanded for me over the years because of all the war events I've learned of that have a direct bearing on myself and my family. Only this morning I received an email from my mother in law about one of her prison peers who witnessed brutality in a POW camp in China in WWII. Mom was fortunate. As an underage POW in that war God shielded her from that. Last night we talked to Dennis in Afghanistan. Seven thousand six hundred and eighty miles hasn't changed a thing between us. He still picks on Becky as bad as any biological brother. We heard from our Antoine who grew up on the coast of Normandy in view of the D-Day landings. His grandfather fought in the Resistance. My own dad is a veteran who served in post WWII Germany.

We have a lot to be thankful for that we still have freedom to openly worship in this country. It is not so in most of the world and who knows how much longer we may do so here. Most people think of freedom in terms of where to go and what to do, but true freedom means so much more - it has to do with what you think and believe and ultimately what kind of person you are. The secular world is ok with people being kind, compassionate and giving, but not ok with Jesus Christ who makes true freedom, freedom from sin, possible.

Our celebration is quiet this year. It's been a pivotal weekend for us with Beck's graduation. The service was precious. Cindy came with a huge surprise, their cousin Ryan from Phoenix. Our Jamie's shower for baby Olivia was yesterday and Rachael dropped by for a shower late in the day. Ya, that was odd but we were glad to see her. Hearing from Dennis and Antoine was icing on the cake. And today I painted for the first time in over 18 years. It felt good, and it felt right.

I'm glad for Memorial Day. While I know it's the official "grill out" beginning of summer, and we'll do that, it's also a time to pause, think about things past and thank God He's in control of the future.

Dealing With Change

I should be working today but instead I'm . . ok, yes, I'm working. Actually the day started very early and I've already stitched a gift, worked the bees, checked orders and found a lost finger splint. I woke around 4:30 am and did the night watch thing with God. I'm loving my screen porch more and more for getting alone in my Bible and what not. Funny thing is - I had to add more chairs as everyone follows me out there, including the cat. She curled up beside the open large print Bible this morning. If I didn't know better I'd swear she was reading too.

The last week has been intense. I cooked for the Awards Banquet last Friday, hosted 15-18 teens after that and spent the weekend running like a mad woman. Currently we're down to a bit less than 36 hours till Becky's graduation and I'm finding myself losing it a little now and again. I can't put my finger on what it is but I don't like it. Graduation is a joyous thing but for me it's more bitter than sweet right now. I don't like to use the word "pride" or "proud", but I am proud of her. She's an awesome (very) young adult who's been an absolute delight to parent. I don't know if it's just the change in my role and responsibility as a parent, facing the reality that I soon won't be needed on a daily basis or what, but I'm not handling it too well. I think I'm tired too.

That being said - I was all weepy and mopey last night when my sister called. Cookie's a RN who works in the pediatric ward of a hospital. Boy did she put things in perspective. Currently she's caring for several children and teens who have cancer and are in the hospital for chemo and radiation. Some are desperate last ditch efforts in hopes of beating it. Her perspective? If you and your family are all healthy and saved and love each other you're wealthy beyond belief.

(WHAP!) I felt that upside the head, theoretically of course. It's nothing I didn't know already, but in the midst of my blues it helped to hear it again.

Beck's always been one to struggle through change. I see her struggling now and make it a point to be there for her and encourage her. I guess I forgot somewhere along the way that some things she has to do alone with God, and some things, I do too. I guess porches are for dealing with the changes and remembering what's really important in life.

Witches and Words and all kinds of Wonderment

I've struggled with a title to this post. It is my second one today. The first one was written in the depths of despair. This one is written to confirm again to my own heart that God is always in control and working behind the scenes to accomplish his purposes. I take joy in that. And I smile. God has a great sense of humor

After Prison Ministry on Sunday I stopped by a local college enroute home to check on friends who had a booth at an arts and craft festival. The festival had really grown since the first time I visited several years earlier and I had difficulty finding them. I also learned another family we knew from chruch had a booth where the mom was selling her adorable jar candles as well. So I headed off to see them too.

Now, this is a southern born and southern bred family. Daddy and grandma and the kids were all there doing their part even if it was just sitting in the back praying for Momma to sell a lot of stuff. I approached them from the back because of my location and as I neared I saw something that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I knew the neighbors, or at least I used to know the neighbors. It had been many years but it was them. She is an old testament "possessed of many devils" type and he a willing accomplice. They were there hocking their home made new age paraphernalia. I'm sure it was demon possessed too. I'd been to the home. They relished the ghosts of murdered people that lived there. We'd had business dealings with them which ended in being defrauded of a large amount of money. Not nice. Not good.

I had a pleasant visit with our friends, and afterwards kicked myself for spilling the beans about the neighbors to the Dad. I guess I justified my gossipy tongue that the man of the house needed to know such things since they were in such close proximity.

So . . . tonight at church the dad tells me about the rest of the day. After I left his five year old started playing between the tents next to these folks and singing. He sang Jesus Loves Me over and over, and louder and louder, sometimes with grandma joining him, sometimes with his mom singing with him. Mickey just sat back and watched. From the moment it started the neighbors started cussing and fighting, slinging swear words allover the place and it wasn't long before they were packed up and gone leaving a pile of trash where they had been.

I don't feel so bad about telling him now. How else could he have appreciated the sheer power of a child singing praises to his God?

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. Psalms 8:2

Embracing Nothingness

I ran across a saying recently that’s stuck with me, “When you’re down to nothing, God is up to something.”

“Nothing” fits of late. Life seems to have hit bottom recently and nothing is what I’m down to spiritually, mentally and emotionally. Nothingness seems to be where I’m headed in this life.

"For nothing good have I whereby thy grace to claim. "

So what does “nothing” mean?

"Blessed are the poor (those who have nothing) in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God."

I think of David’s response to Michael’s rebuke – (my paraphrase) “You think I lowered myself doing that? Just wait, I’ll lower myself even more!”

God taught me a long time ago that the proper response to trials and tribulations was to bow to it – to submit to the authority over me (thereby ducking whatever God dishes out) and to hold still and steady till the storm passes. I find myself there again. Everything seems to be crashing around me and I’m powerless to do anything to stop it.

All my theology tells me that powerlessness is a necessary ingredient.

"I am weak but He is strong."

All my theology tells me that everything will be ok.

"Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning."

It’s dark; the nothingness of the night surrounds me and the fears that attack my soul are menacing. But my God tells me that even darkness is light to him and that He’ll never leave me or forsake me. So despite what I see or what I feel, I know He’s there. I can’t see Him, I can’t feel him – I’m really too numb to sense his presence.

Hope eludes me. So I bow low, and wait. He’s up to something. I just don’t know what. And I don’t want to mess it up by doing something stupid. So I wait, and do nothing.

Following Up

Prison was good today. This is the second month that one of the guards has brought me iced tea during lunch. I see the women get the same lunch every Sunday, and it's nothing this health nut would choose, but the tea . . . is GOOD. And appreciated.

The muslum lady was still in the cell where they brought her last month after the fight. She stayed on her bunk for Bible study, but she did participate, reading along in a piece of a Bible she had inherited from another inmate and answering questions. It was a nice change.

There's not much that surprises me inside anymore, so when we finished and the guards let everyone out for a smoke break she met me at the door of her cell and gave me a hug. It was very obvious she'd softened up quite a bit since last time we met. Knowing she was Turkish I asked how many languages she spoke. The answer came tumbling out - it was like recognizing she had something different, something special opened a door of communication. She spoke five languages including her native tongue and English. Turns out she was a linguistics major at a prestigious university.

"How . . . . ?" I hardly ever ask, but this was one time I had to. The story she told me was very sad, and if it is true the way she told me she shouldn't be there. There's also the part where she's considered an outcast by her faith and her family. It hurt. I could see it in her eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if the difference between her faith that basically wanted to see her dead and all the stories about Jesus caring for broken women were getting through.

I don't know, but the second hug I got from her more than made up for the February incident. We cried together and had prayer. I continue to pray for her and ask that any other Christians who find their way here do as well.

And oh yes . . she asked for a whole Bible!

Spring Swarm Tutorial

It's spring here in the south and the bees have started swarming. I caught two swarms within walking distance of my office yesterday. Many people go their entire lives without seeing this awesome phenomenon of nature. Unfortunately many who do are ignorant about what they are witnessing and make unwise decisions when this happens. Honeybees provide a valuable service to humanity by pollinating 80% of our food supply. Bees are now threatened which means it's up to us to go above and beyond to protect them. Many times people will call a pest control service to destroy a honeybee swarm out of fear or ignorance. That's why I write - to dispel fear and educate.

First of all - DO NOT PANIC! A clump of bees on a tree limb, post or flat surface will not stay there permanently. Bees will wait in a clump for scouts to find a suitable new home for them. Unfortunately it sometimes winds up being in the walls of a building where the bees are eventually exterminated. This is why the next thing is important: CALL A BEEKEEPER. A beekeeper will put them in a hive designed especially for them and will take care of them.

If you do not know of a beekeeper in your area you may contact your local law enforcement who may know of one and also your local extension office. Many areas have beekeeper organizations that may be found on the internet.

In the meantime, enjoy the show. I don't advise that you get close to them, especially if you're allergic, but they are fascinating to watch. A queen bee whose pheromone is the unifying factor in the clump is somewhere down in there and every bee is tuned to her. When they reach their new home they'll build comb, the queen will lay hundreds of eggs and they'll continue just as they've done for hundreds of years. Your part in this is to make sure the new home is one where they'll be tended and cared for.

Sniffing Vanilla Weddings

I had another "moment" tonight. Our kitchen has been a wreck for some time with the constant rotation of eggs (and now fresh farm ones that require washing), flour, butter, vanilla, assorted chips, etc. It's a Flynn Buck thing. Don't ask - it puts Monopoly Money to pitiful shame.

The moment came about with the finding of a decorative storage bottle holding about a precious tablespoon of family history. It's the last of the Horton stash of Hatian Vanilla.

Hatian Vanilla came across the Gulf of Mexico in plastic bleach bottles with my mother in law nearly thirty years ago. At the time she and Dad were serving as missionaries in Port-au-Prince. Thrifty folks they were, the bought high grade vanilla cheap, and shared. I don't know how much of the stuff she stashed in her suitcases when they came for our wedding, but everyone in my family was treated to this wonderful treasure. It was my first exposure to high quality flavoring. All I'd ever had was McCormick Imitation Vanilla. No comparison.

I don't know when we ran out. But we did and it was forgotten about, till a few years ago when my sister gave me what was left of hers. One sniff and I was a newleywed in my first kitchen again. Ahhh, the memories!

And sniff we have. That's mostly what we do with it. The flavor is so unique and I don't want to lose the memory again. The kids savor it too - they understand the significance. But it has been used very sparingly and only for special occasions. The last time was for cheesecake for Mike and Heather's wedding. A piece of my wedding history was tied into theirs. It was only fitting. The next time will be for Becky's wedding. I don't know if she'll want cheesecake or what, but it's set in stone that the remainder is to be used for her special day. And Lord willing I'll keep just a bit, strictly for sniffing.

60 Minutes and Disappearing Bees

Let me wear a shirt with a beekeeper logo in public and I guarantee questions and comments. "I heard about the disappearing bees!" "Have any of your bees disappeared?" "Have they found out what's causing the bees to disappear?" (Worse yet . . ) "Did you know cell phones are killing bees?"

Hold it! Stop! Yes, there is a problem. And it is a serious problem we all need to be concerned about. If nothing else Colony Colapse Disorder (CCD) has brought much needed public attention to the importance of the humble and much taken for granted honeybee. Since the second airing about the problem on 60 Minutes last Sunday night I can't leave the house without hearing about it. It's a good thing.

So here's the scoop. My bees are fine. They are experiencing the normal life cycle, climate changes, pests, challenges, ups and down of bees, but none of this disappearing stuff. For that matter there are no known cases of CCD in Alabama. This can be verified with our Department of Agriculture.

CCD has mainly affected migratory bees. Your next thought should be "what is a migratory bee?" Bees are kept either in stationary hives or migratory hives. Stationary hives are in permanent locations and are rarely if ever moved. Most hobbyist beekeepers maintain stationary hives. Once the local nectar flow has ceased bees in stationary hives take it easy - there's no mad rush to build a massive population or gather nectar and pollen.

Migratory bees on the other hand are moved from crop to crop to crop all during the year. They may be on watermelons for six weeks during bloom, then corn for four weeks to pollinate it. Every time they are moved they have to reorient their location to the sun and learn their way around. California's bees have been so decimated that beekeepers from many states truck in hundreds of hives for almond pollination. These bees don't get much of a break. Finish one job and go on to the next. It's a vital part of our food production.

But the bees in migratory hives are the ones being affected by CCD. It was recently announced that they've found residue of over 40 pesticides and crop chemicals in the comb of migratory bees. That's a lot of stinking toxins. And commercial beekeepers aren't known for rotating comb but have reused it indefinitely in years past.

Combine that with the stress of getting no rest . . . in human terms I'd probably get sick and go off to die somewhere too if my house was toxic and I couldn't stop and rest.

I'm not saying that's why the bees are disappearing. Research is still continuing and already they've found a virus that weak colonies are susceptible to. And CELL PHONES AREN'T KILLING BEES. That wild claim was based on research that had nothing to do with cell phones and the scientists were ticked. The good news is that beekeepers all over the country are now implementing comb rotation practices and actively looking for other ways to protect our bees. We have no control over many things, like the farmer who sprays his vegetables or the neighbor who puts bug killer on her flower bed, but we can do everything possible where we are with what we have to nurture and protect these little gifts from God. We're in deep trouble if we don't.

The Rest of the Story

Norman was right. Today Irene went to the jail and the girls in #47 told her the same thing - they felt that the Muslim girl was mocking me and weren't going to put up with it.

I find myself touched very deeply. This kind of love from such an unexpected source is very humbling. I find the roles reversed - I've lived Matthew 25:40 for many years now; And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Now, a week after the fact I am faced with the realization that they acted in love to stand up for Jesus by standing up for me.

I feel very small, and very grateful for the privilege of ministering to these women.

I spent the best part of today at the jail. I should have known it wouldn't be a routine visit from the outset as things were a little crazy from the start. The last few months I've pretty much entered and exited the building unaccompanied excluding the person who monitors the cameras and unlocks the doors electronically as I pass through. But today was different. A female deputy entered with me and a guard gave instructions to the security monitor who didn't get it and left me stranded in a vacant hall with nothing but locked doors surrounding me. After it became apparent that "whoever" didn't have a clue I was there I hit the intercom button and he/she got me through the next two doors into cell block 45.

Forty five is a nice group of ladies, sweet, low key and amiable. All of the female trustees have come from 45. The usual crowd got up for a Bible lesson and the usual crowd slept through it. I can always teach more and teach deeper truth with this group and they're always a blessing. When we finished I notified the monitor via the intercom that church was concluded in 45 and that I please be allowed to enter 47 next. We heard the door unlock across the hall, but after a few minutes it became apparent the monitor didn't think to let me out of 45. The resident trustee informed him/her of the mistake and I exited and was across the hall momentarily.

Forty seven is the "trustee" cell, though no trustees reside there. It is a much larger cell with four sets of bunks, a larger table and much more space. The usual group of girls was there too - women I've come to know and love over a number of months. They always ask about Becky. They really took to her when she visited with me at Christmas. There were a couple of new faces, most notably a dark haired girl on a cot to the side. She was polite, but wasted no time telling me she was Muslim and asked for a Koran. Bible study was disrupted before we even began with lunch trays - it was funny seeing everyone scurry to put on their blues, a new rule that you have to be fully dressed to receive food. (I like this rule - it prevents the male inmates from seeing them skimpy when the food is served!) In the process the new girl and I got to speak - she complained about being served pork hot dogs and quoted something from the Koran. In typical lion chaser fashion I wasted no time telling her Jesus's take on the topic, that it's not what you put in the man that defiles him, but what comes out from the heart. The lesson was good from there, but she and I did go back and forth a couple of times on that vein. If she was confrontational I never picked up on it and just discussed what the scriptures said. At the end of the lesson I got hugs from everyone except her - she just wanted to shake hands and I told her that I was really happy to get to meet her and that was it. She did ask about a Koran and a prayer mat, things that I didn't have access to and wouldn't provide anyway and I caught some of the other girls giving verbal put downs, "just cool it", "let it alone," behind my back as we hugged and said goodbye. And I left. The monitor got the doors right this time.

Forty six was next. All the women there were engrossed in an ethnic soap opera and only one wanted church. We were in the process of getting permission to study in the hall when things shifted and they turned the tv off and gathered around the door - a fight had started across the hall in 47 and these gals were enjoying the show. 'Dear Lord, NO!" was all I could get out of my heart." He heard me and I immediately called for prayer amid all the racket and ruckus where the guards were now scurrying to break things up. We prayed for peace and that God would contain the bad spirit that stirred up the trouble. Then ALL the girls settled down and were now eager to hear the Bible lesson. We'd barely got started when the cell door opened, a guard and a deputy escorted the muslim girl in, apologizing the whole time. She came in quietly, went to the back where she spread her mattress and remained very quiet through the rest of the lesson.

So that was how my day went. It was quite bizarre compared to normal days. Later when I recounted the events to my family Norman spoke at last and said, "You know what happened over there don't you?" No, not really . . . He continued "They weren't going to put up with her ragging on their preacher lady! They were putting the whoop on her to stand up for you!"

Is that what happened? I don't know. I hope not, but I do know this, I love those girls and they know it. And I know they love me too. People often ask me if I feel uneasy or threatened in jail and I've honestly had to conclude that I feel very safe in there. I don't know how it is during the week, but I know when I go that love is in the house. Were they standing up for me? I don't know. But Irene is going next week, and she's under orders to ASK! I'll post more when I know more.

Jane and the C Word

Call me a simple Alabama girl. I have to admit that when I heard about yesterdays early morning slip of the tongue I silently had to agree with her statement. Yeah, I'm from Alabama, I don't do that either. Further investigation however revealed that her appearance on the Today show wasn't against vulgarity disguised as art, but that she was there to support and promote the V Monologues in which she's actually participating.

What? The Vietnam activist now turned Christian is now turned to promoting an X-Rated excuse for art??? Remember now, I'm a simple Alabama girl. But I do know how to google a few things and what I found out is that the V Monologues (see, I can't even bring myself to write the biologically correct word) has morphed from a base and crass play to a full fledged movement that seeks to end violence toward women. Ok, I'm all about ending violence toward women.

The whole thing is that dear Jane's participation appears to be a band-aid to a social problem she contributed to in the first place. As an outspoken activist in Vietnam she tore down the moral of an entire armed forces and the American people as well. There is still much anger in this country over what she did. Who does it get taken out on much of the time? Women. Her actions in Vietnam earned her a special traitor status unequaled to any male in history (in my humble opinion) and that anger is still vented against women today.

Then there's the feminist activities. Radical feminism emasculates men. Emasculated men are angry. There again, who bears the brunt of this social problem? Who gets to deal with the men who've been beat down by an ideology that plays down what God intended them to be? Hmmmm.

So here we are - we're living in a world that has pretty much rejected Jesus Christ who elevated women's worth by his holy words and actions and now Ms. Jane who has claimed to know Him is seeking to eliminate the problems she helped create by promoting unholy words and actions. Remember, I'm just a simple Alabama girl but is the irony lost on anyone but me?

This is a photo of some of my "kids", Dennis and Toni with their son, Dennis III. I couldn't resist sharing the photo. Dennis is in the Army and will be leaving for Afghanistan soon.

What a busy week! I don't know about others, but I used to think you worked all week and spent the weekend doing "whatever" that included church on Sunday. Weekends are still time to break out of the routine for the most part, but as it adult it seems I work harder on weekends catching up on all the work I let go during the week! Last weekend was that way and this weekend coming will be little different. Saturday is the 13th annual Beekeeping Symposium at Auburn University, and while it will be great to catch up with all my beekeeping buddies and enjoy the classes, I'm also committed to helping with a huge meal and teaching a workshop. So it's won't be all play, but I'll enjoy it nonetheless.

Much of this week has been devoted to web work and product development. I found a graphics designer who is scheduled to have my new product logo ready mid February. We're excited about this - it's been a long time in the works. I've got a new candle design almost ready for the store and have made a few dozen more tubes of Fire Ant First Aid. As soon as I get confirmation I'll have shows lined up for March and April as well. Dates are to be announced!

It's hard to believe we've only got a week left of January 2008. Even with the cold there has been plenty to do keeping Norman's books, cutting out quilts for my mom, picking out pecans and running kids too and fro. I've a new bee helper, a boy from church who loves nothing better than to be outside catching chickens and the like. We spent a warm Saturday checking hives for food reserves. One was doing poorly and we took measures to keep them safe and fed. Hopefully they'll make it. We've had colder temperatures this year with temps dropping into the twenties several times. Montgomery even had snow!

So there has been a lot to do. Norman and Becky have seen to the cows. He's staying wrapped up with LocalHelpWanted and truck sales. Becky has been occupied with school, music, the school yearbook and friends as time allows. She had her senior portraits taken last night. She's going on a missions trip to Costa Rica this summer and is getting started on her fund raisers.

We found out yesterday that her cousin, Zack from Phoenix, is going too. What's that saying Cindy had . . . . "Horton, party of FUN." Yes, it's a missions trip and it will be serious, but where two or three Hortons are gathered together a party usually breaks out! I have no doubt the laughter will break down barriers so God can really speak to the kids. It will be good and I wish I were going!

I may not be going to Costa Rica but I am going to Auburn. Dr. Tew asked me to teach a workshop on Gardening at the 13th annual Beekeeping Symposium Feb. 2. I've been doing a lot of research for that. Earlier this week I scrapped my original outline and started from scratch with something that flows better. Phillip Carter reviewed it for me and gave it a thumbs up. Now I've just got to get the power point part of it done.

Workwise I'm happy to announce new packaging for Fire Ant First Aid. It took a bit of creativity to make it happen but it's now available in .15 ounce tubes. Westside Pharmacy has already switched their inventory to the new size and I've got to make more before I approach the other stores. I REALLY like it. The tube is small enough to keep in my pocket and I don't have to touch it to apply it. It always bothered me a bit that I seemed to waste a little when I wiped my fingers after applying it. The other plus is that it's much more affordable.

Another interesting thing with Fire Ant First Aid - I've used it with wonderful results on two spider bites this year. My friend Joe told me they were brown recluse bites but I can't confirm that as 1) I didn't see the spiders and 2) I didn't have the classic necrotic symptoms. But I did have small painful ulcers with huge red whelps around them. Both times I applied the cream, covered it with a bandage and repeated that step several times. The redness went away within a few hours and I discontinued treatment once the ulcer made a scab a couple of days later. They heal slow, but thank the Lord, they DID heal.

What Happens to Your Body Within an Hour of Drinking a Coke

Do you want to be healthy? Drinking soda is bad for your health in so many ways; science can’t even state all the consequences. Here’s what happens in your body when you assault it with a Coke:

Within the first 10 minutes, 10 teaspoons of sugar hit your system. This is 100 percent of your recommended daily intake, and the only reason you don’t vomit as a result of the overwhelming sweetness is because phosphoric acid cuts the flavor.

Within 20 minutes, your blood sugar spikes, and your liver responds to the resulting insulin burst by turning massive amounts of sugar into fat.

Within 40 minutes, caffeine absorption is complete; your pupils dilate, your blood pressure rises, and your livers dumps more sugar into your bloodstream.

Around 45 minutes, your body increases dopamine production, which stimulates the pleasure centers of your brain – a physically identical response to that of heroin, by the way.

After 60 minutes, you’ll start to have a sugar crash.

BOTTOM LINE - Don't touch the stuff.

A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups - porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate.

When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said, "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups...and then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate life provided us life makes the hot chocolate, man chooses the cups. The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything that they have.

It's Monday, and the first day of the first normal work week of the new year. I would have never thought to be saying it, but it's good to be back to our crazy version of normal. I spent the bulk of my day in the office doing office things. Normally I detest balancing a zillion accounts, mailing a zillion different things and the like, but today I actually enjoyed it a bit. I had hoped to have all that done for the week but with closing out accounting years for three or four sets of books it didn't happen and probably won't tomorrow either.

A few days ago I reflected on 2007. Presently I'm reflecting on our holidays here as they were so different than they've been in years past. I don't want to forget anything so what follows is for MY benefit only.

12/6 Beekeepers Dinner, I turned presidency over to WGM (big smile)
12/13 Becky's piano recital
12/14 Ladies Luncheon at my house
SS Dinner @ Carrolls
12/18 Justin Saunders band concert
12/20 Packed prison bags with McHughs and Greenes
Teens came to our house for overnight party
12/21 I took the plunge and changed my hair color
The teens volunteered for Salvation Army
12/23 The three of us delivered Prison Bags. NH and Beck went into the jail for the first time
The three of us went up to Moms. I got to see the lights in Wedowee again.
12/24 Norman and my annual day out. We visited Rhenda too.
Becky and MaMaw had a good day together
12/25 Christmas with Mom and Dad.
Visited Uncle Jimmy in the afternoon
12/26 Came home
12/27 Dennis, Tony and my Grandbaby came for dinner
12/30 Lunch and a good visit with Amanda
12/31 Church New Years Eve event. Becky & Karyn did "You're Not That Far Away"
1/1 I visited Kammi's house!
1/4 Hillary came.
1/5 A good regular Saturday with the three of us, Hillary, and (ahem!) doing church and farm stuff topped with good home cooked Chinese food.

Even with all the hustle and bustle we loved Jesus most through it all and I've had to conclude that His love is what makes being with those you love this time of year so special. One of the best parts was rocking Little Dennis to sleep. He's not my biological grandbaby, but every bit mine in a spiritual sense. The evening they were over he was fussy so Mamma Horton took over and rocked him to sleep. He let out a big sigh and slumped into a deep slumber when he heard the tune to Amazing Grace. I was so blessed that he's being raised this way.

So - it's off to chasing lions this year! I'm presently going through Mark Batterson's book a second time and enjoying it every bit as much as I did first time around. My mom and sisters and I are coordinating on a big quilt project which I'm in the process of cutting out. I'll be teaching a class in Auburn early February. Cookie, Kammi and Naomi and going to Kuwait the end of this month and I'm so jealous. Brian graduates college early May, Becky graduates a couple of weeks later, goes to Costa Rica in July and starts college in the fall. Norman and I are choosing shows to do this spring. Whatever happens, if we thought 2007 had a lot of changes 2008 has more in store. I don't know if I'm ready, but Sword in hand, I'm charging full speed ahead.