Level Ground

I've lost track of the day/month/year I became involved in jail ministry and as close as I can tell it's somewhere in the 15- 17 year range.  There have been many Sundays like today, that I wake feeling inadequate, unprepared, and ill-equipped to make the hours drive to the facility where I serve and meet with women who may or may not want to see or hear the Word I come bearing.

I'm ok with that.  I do and don't go for them.  I do go to share the message of Christ -  of hope, healing, and restoration through the Gospel message, and I don't go expecting anything from them.  I care, but I'm not emotional about it.  It's about being faithful, not about acceptance or rejection.

I've made the drive some days for naught -  turned away because of an outbreak of head lice or women with no appetite for spiritual things.  Some days I quality time with one or two hungry souls.  Other days I leave spent and drained after pouring the Word into multiple cells with multiple hungry hearts and a zillion questions.

I love it.  I never know what to expect except that God is in control. Over the years I've been privileged to include almost my entire immediate family, my mom and even inlaws in aspects of the ministry.  Administrations have come and gone, buildings have gone up, dogs, protocols and rules have been added, but at the end of the day, it's still about sitting across from each other and opening the Scriptures.

These women, these amazing, beautiful, women, for the most part are no different than I.  Yes, they've been involved with things that got them in trouble.  Most are sins of the flesh that got the best of them.  Some are nothing more than stupid irresponsibility.  Only a very few are downright evil.   Many know and have a genuine love for God.  Many more have begun their spiritual journey in that direction.

Today was special.  It was one of those rare days we got down and dirty with the raw truth of how ugly sin is and were lifted up with the glorious truth of our Savior's power to overcome sin, hell, death and the grave.  We enjoyed fellowship, laughed, anguished, counseled and cried together.  When I left we embraced in prayer looking forward to doing it again in heaven.

I've heard people say, "There, but for the grace of God, go I" in regard to those who have stumbled or are less fortunate.  I've come to dislike that statement.  God's grace doesn't make me better than anyone else.  I may have better circumstances, but I'm not loved any more than they are.  The sacrifice of Calvary is there to cover their failures every bit as much as my own.

That being said,  jail is a special place for me and even on mornings like today life wouldn't be the same without "doing my time".  There is no pretending, no posturing, and no agendas.  Just women trying to help each other get through a tough time and meeting together on the level ground at the foot of the Cross where we're all sinners in need.

Good Saint Nic

LIFE!  I thought it was supposed to slow down as you approached retirement age but that doesn't seem to be the case here.  Recently I realized that I need to re-do my bucket list because there are still so many things I want to do!

But that's another lament for another time.  At this moment I just want to put down for posterity another beautiful treasure I found this week in the pages of that dusty old book called the Bible.  Here goes!

There's this guy named Leroy.  We share a ride to or from our closest large city every now and again.  He's an elderly gentleman who drives slow and enjoys good conversation. He's sharp and loves to talk about the Bible and things in Scripture.  It's always an enjoyable ride.

Last week we chanced to be together again and got to talking about Nicodemus.  If you're not familiar Nicodemus is the guy who came to Jesus by night asking (my paraphrase) "WHO are you???" It was blowing the old teachers mind that this young roughneck was doing such miracles.  Plus I think he remembered a 12 year old boy who was left at the temple by some neglectful parents some years before and wondered if it was the same guy.   Whether by omnipotence or memory or both, Jesus obviously knew who he was. . . . all speculation on my part but the the pieces fit the puzzle.  Regardless, that question started the conversation that led to the most famous verse in the Bible:  John 3:16.

I have long believed from Nic's actions following that encounter that he truly came to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. One of the reasons is that he so tenderly and lavishly cared for the body of our Lord after the crucifixion.  Seriously.  Who dresses the wounds of a dead man??  They didn't have open casket funerals back then.  The best you could do was slow down the smell long enough to get them sealed up or buried.

So when I was studying some stuff putting together a children's lesson I bumped into a fascinating message about the immutability of God. Immutability is that characteristic where God Never Changes.  Even if He changes his mind about something, it will be in keeping with His character.

Anyway . . . Acts 2:24   . . . "Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death: because it was not possible that he should be holden of it." Why would Peter say it was impossible for Jesus not to raise from the dead?  Because the Bible had already said it!  Psalm 16:10: " For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption."  That verse was a statement of God's character, a prophecy and a promise.  My paraphrase again:  "you're not going to leave me in the grave just like you're not going to let your Holy One rot in a grave!"

BAM!  There you go!  Nick knew that verse.  The old teacher guy who had taught the Old Testament all his life knew that body wasn't going to stay there cause God had said so years before and Nic knew God meant exactly what He said.

I didn't know all that during the drive with Leroy.  We had to agree that my belief about Nicodemus  was a personal conclusion since it wasn't specifically spelled out in the Bible.

But I've got the goods now and I can't WAIT to ride with him again and share this!

How many fingers am I holding up?

I've been at this jail ministry thing for a good 15+ years now.  It does not get old, it does not become boring.  Every visit is brand new and every Sunday, no matter how many crazy things you've seen or experienced, is different.  Different people, different needs, even I am different than when I first started.

Today we examined some topics from the book of Proverbs. LOVE Proverbs.  So much WISDOM.  Today was different though . .  I realized that most of these women, while they understood that wisdom was good and something they needed, had no clue what wisdom really was.  Thankfully I have a wise pastor, and have read other wise pastors who's definitions on "Bible words" I've collected over the years for this very reason.

There were other words we dealt with too . . . "understanding" being one of them.  The best way I could explain it was "insight", seeing beyond the obvious.  So I held up four fingers and asked them how many I was holding up.

The scene where Harold Gould did the same to Robin Williams in Patch Adams was profound for me.  "Eight fingers" turned out to be a wonderful way of approaching life and even a teaching tool as I prepared my children for adulthood.  And it was the best way I could approach developing insight to the women I spent this morning with.  The fingers can be anything -  walls people put up around them, social/racial/gender identity, solitude from hiding the pain . . .

So without further adieu, I hope this means as much to you as it does to me:

Sisters in Shame

This morning over breakfast the hubs told me about a book coming out that may or may not affect the outcome of our current presidential election.  It's called Crisis of Character and is a first hand account of experience with the past  Clinton administration.  It contains previously unknown information about the scandal that rocked the nation.

No political commentary here.  If you want to know more get the book and form your own opinions.

Let's talk about Monica Lewinsky.  What do you think of when you hear her name?  I know.  It's ugly, disgusting, or even funny if you are warped.  Mostly it's sad.  Because a foolish young woman made a very common mistake young women sometimes make and she's living the rest of her life as the poster child for in-discrimination.  People still publicly snicker at her.

She's not the first woman in history to endure such.  King David had a wife like that.  Despite his making Bathsheba an honest woman by marrying her and their son even sitting her on a throne beside him, history STILL sees her as the woman on her back shaming a kingdom.  Ask most any preacher about her. The first thing he tells is not that she was an excellent wife, raised the wisest man in history or was the role model that Proverbs 31 was written about. No, he'll tell you that she helped bring a kingdom to its knees.  Never mind that God/Scripture/Nathan and David himself cleared her name.  She's still getting the Lewinsky treatment.

Never met Monica.  Know one person that saw her at a restaurant once.  But I like her. Why?  She's using her pain and her shame to help others.  Don't believe me?  Check out her Ted Talk.  This is not a person in hiding.  This is a person out there trying to do some good with what's left of her life.  This is something to be admired, and should she choose to trust Jesus (and I truly hope and pray so!) some day, like Bathsheba, I'll be able to tell her how much I respect and admire the person she became.

Too little for too long

My poor blog.

I just checked in and realized how TERRIBLY long it's been since I shared something of this crazy farm /ministry/diy kind of life I live.  Truly terrible.

It's not that there has been nothing to say, indeed there's lot to chat about, ponder, meditate on and explore.  I've just not done it publicly, at least in this venue.

There's really no catching up on (ahem)-teen months of silence, neglect, busyness, so I'm not going to try.

What I am going to do is look at my day.  Today.  I've got 13 minutes before its over in this time zone so here goes.

Prison ministry was GREAT this morning.  Getting there and leaving much earlier under the new guidelines, but that's good.  Still LOVE ministering to women.  Love those women.  I relate to them more than should be admitted.

Got pulled over on the way back.  Trooper.  Blue lights flashing.  Really nice guy.  66 in a 45.  I don't understand why he let me off with only a warning but he did.  Thankful for mercy and grace.

Good sermon at church. Trooper told me better to arrive late than not at all so late, but that's not unusual for the Mr. or I.  Enjoyed the service.

Had a plate of ribs waiting for me at home compliments of a family friend.  Didn't really get to enjoy them till way late, but they were fabulous.  Also had a bushel of corn, a cooler of rhubarb and a truckload of dirty dishes to deal with.

A sweet puppy customer came with her adorable sons-  we spent 2 hours playing with  puppies on the screen porch as they decided which one to take home next week. 

And it rained.  So now my out of control yard will grow more out of control.  And the 0-turn has an engine problem and I don't know how we're going to handle that.

The hubs and friend finished dog beds for the kennels they started yesterday (the friend had to go and wanted to see the project finished -  sometimes you just have to suck it up.).  But it's done and oh so nice for the animals.

Just got in from giving meds to 9 sweet pups who got into something. Nothing serious but still has to be done.

Squirt - our miracle puppy weighed in at 870 grams before being tucked in.  The hamburger leftovers from the rib joint seem to be agreeing with him and he's up 70 grams from this morning.

Our guest almost convinced the Mr. to shoot a snake on the screen  porch late last night. The only reason he didn't was beause he didn't want to damage the floor or house at such close range or wake me up.  Today they wanted me to see it before they killed it - told me it was some kind of adder.  I told them it was plastic. A real snake would have put it's head down at least once in 12 hours.  I'm not making this up.

Didn't get to talk to any of the kids today but did see an adorable video of  EJ chatting it up in her car seat.  For FOUR WHOLE MINUTES.  She would do great in media or entertainment.  Especially comedy because this 2 1/2 year old has vocabulary, insight, observation skills, opinions about EVERYTHING and does not hold back. And drop dead gorgeous.  There's a video of her driving the tractor somewhere on Facebook if anyone can find it.  Look out world.

So it looks like I went 11 minutes over.  Oh well.  Happy Monday. 

Remembering Scout

This is such a joyous season of life.  In the past 20 months the hubs and I have been blessed with three beautiful grandchildren - babies we hoped in our hearts would would join us someday, and whom we knew would be greeted by joyous parents.  Two sweet little ones have joined us by birth and one little treasure joined us by adoption. 

As I write  little one #4 is due in a few days.  I find myself on pins and needles awaiting his arrival.   Later on this summer, another sweet child will be born,  making a family of three a family of four, and the eldest of the bunch will have a little sister.

My heart sings.

And my heart sings in a far away place too, because there's another one.

We never got to meet Scout.  Scout was in heaven before anyone knew God had created him or her. We won't know till we get there whether this child is even a boy or girl.  But that's ok.  Like all things our God does that is good and just and right, even the small flame of Scout's few days had purpose and meaning and was intended for greater than we could understand at the time.

So mingled with the joy, the laughter, first smiles, silly songs, blowing on bellies and this little piggies, there's a lullaby deep in my heart, a song waiting to be sung for the little one waiting on the other side.  Till then, I'm sure the angels are enjoying little Scout immensely.

Sleep Well

Sometime back I jotted down some thoughts about staying well.  I happily confess that except for a few brushes with the ickies, I've done very well this winter.  And I sadly confess that I left out one of the most important things you can do for yourself  -  Sleep.

Normally this is the part where I would post a nice photo, but alas -  I could not find any that adequately depicted my idea of a good sleep.  All the photos were beautiful younger people in white sheets shot in bright white light - NOT my idea of a good nights sleep.

In fact a good night's sleep is quite the the opposite.  Who cares what color the sheets are, because its supposed to be DARK.  And if you can't get the room dark, make yourself dark by using a sleep mask or covering your head with a blanket.  You just can't get a good rem sleep in the light.

I wasn't always this way, but after reading The Hibernation Diet, I came to realize that many factors affect our sleep, including how much light is in the room. Upon making a few changes I started sleeping sooooooooo much better.  And now that some years have passed I find good sleep to be increasingly important to function well.

And it also helps you STAY well.  When you get run down your immune system is more likely to become compromised.  And for me, when I feel that happening, sleep is my number one weapon against becoming sick.  Probably the most prominent experience happened while visiting our daughter late last year.  Sunday afternoon after a couple of wonderful days  found me coming down with something AWFUL.  Once we got home I hit the sack and slept most of fourteen hours.

Fourteen hours. And I felt fine the next day, and the day after that, and after that . . . .

So sleep. There is good reason the CDC considers sleep deprivation a public health epidemic.  Don't be a statistic. 

Little Song Soapbox

As a kid I had a lot of trouble getting the lyrics of music.  I knew a lot of tunes, but unless the song was in the church hymnal, I never knew all the words, especially if it was something I only heard on the radio.  So I'd just bee-bop along and with the few words I understood,  In retrospect it's probably a good thing we didn't have a decent sound system in the house or cars.

Now that I've been an adult for a few years I truly abhor the messages of some catchy tunes I enjoyed as a teenager.  Sure, I would hear the occasional preacher denounce this or that song - much harder stuff than I listen to - because of its bad message. At the time I didn't ask myself (and of course not the "authorities") how they knew a song was bad.  Did they take the word of someone else? Did (gasp!) they listen to it themselves?

The world may never know.  And that's ok -  not really a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

What gets me though is the number of older Christian tunes I now take issue with.  For all the denunciation of modern Christian music being repetitious and shallow,  there's plenty of popular old time gospel songs that fit the same bill.  I don't think any of the musicians or singers intended to create something with an improper or shallow message, but it did happen.

Take the chorus of this goldie oldie for example:

"And now its sunshine and roses,
Only a thorn now and then;
Cool Streams, warm breezes,
Since Jesus took my hand
Green meadows and laughter
Hope within a crumbling time
And now its sunshine and roses,
Only a thorn now and then."

Sunshine and roses.  Really?  I hope my brothers and sisters in Africa, Asia and the Middle East who have suffered the loss of parents, children, brothers and sisters know that.  I'm sure life is a green meadow full of laughter for them.  Tell the believers in China that the thorns are few.

And it's no wonder the so called prosperity gospel has flourished with bad doctrine like this making the charts in whats still a very popular industry.

Maybe I'm super sensitive because I'm not feeling well.  Maybe I've heard too much four part harmony as my hubby indulges in his love for this genera.  Maybe I'm more discerning about messages at this point in my life or maybe I'm just being a crab.  I don't know-  maybe I will know tomorrow.

But for now I just know that more than ever, I pay attention.  If I can understand the words I'm analyzing them.  And just because it's old don't mean its good.  And just because its new don't mean its bad.  What counts when it comes to music, any music, is the message.  What is the message it delivers to the heart of the listener?

 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.   Philippians 4:8

Welcome 2015!

Here we are.  The holidays are over.  The grandkids have all gone home.  The trailblazer is in the shop again, and on top of packing away all the Christmas decorations I'm faced with the annual "get the finances ready to do taxes" thing.

 Ahhh .  . life!  

I heard once that when you're five years old, a year represents one fifth of your life.  That's huge -  20% of your existence in a single word.  But when you are 50, that same period of time represents 1/50th of your life.  One very skinny little piece of the whole pie.

 I find my pie pieces getting skinnier and the Christmas's coming around faster as I approach 60.  I'm finding a lot of other things too - unwelcome things like hair that refuses to be tamed, weight that refuses to come off, and not being able to lift as much as I used to.  (which is a huge issue for a beekeeper!)

That's not said to complain - there are so many positives that come with it I don't think I'd trade:

the love of a beautiful family I'm proud to call my own
     GRANDBABIES!
          not flustering over small stuff
               the quiet confidence of a sweet relationship with God
                    vision and purpose
                         challenges and opportunities

What does the New Year hold?  I can't tell you.  I know what today, January 1, 2015 held:

Time with my son and his precious family
     Time with my husband and sweet inlaws
          Finding a treasure for our other son
               Communicating truth to a stranger in bad need of it - and being heard
                     
No doubt every day won't be like that -  after all it is a holiday, but I hope that  words like "loving", "blessing", "giving", "sharing", "praying", "helping" etc,  are sprinkled generously over the mundane things that make up every day life.

After all, they are the things we get to take with us when our years are over and we start fresh in God's eternal kingdom.

And if by some chance you stumbled upon this and don't have that sweet assurance of God's love in your life, get a Bible. Read the Gospel of John.  Let it sink in and find out for yourself who this Jesus is and what He did for you. 

Don't get Sick

It's no fun.  You know that.  Been there, done that -  you got the ugly tee shirt too and don't want to wear it.  Same here.

Truth is, sickness is a fact of life.  You get tired, run down, eat something you shouldn't, get cold, wet, or too hot -  and there you have it.  Your immune system is compromised and caves into a cold, flu, or virus.

So what follows here is not new.  Your mother told you this stuff, your grandmother too . . . things that you can and should do to help stay well during flu season.

Keep Warm.  Wear mittens, gloves and a scarf if necessary.   A dip in body temperature by half a degree can compromise your system enough to catch "whatever."

Stay dry.  Especially your feet.


Wash your hands.  Or use hand sanitizer.  Keep your hands away from your face as much as possible.  Cough into your arm then wash that nasty shirt.

Stay hydrated.

Eat well.  As in food that is GOOD for you.  A car don't run well and breaks down more frequently on poor quality gasoline.  Why would your body respond differently if you eat junk?


Use good sense about unnecessary exposure. Stay away from  sick people as much as possible.

See how simple that was?  There are a lot more good suggestions out there which anyone is welcome to share. A lot of it boils down to good common sense and just not giving into the temptation to fudge when doing the right thing is inconvenient.  I write this as much for myself and my kids as anyone.  Because really - who wants to be sick at Christmas??

Love and Adoption

Now that I've got my "day after getting home" madness out of the way and have had some quiet moments to reflect on the last week's events, I'm finding a lot to ponder.

I spent the best part of the week with my 2nd grandchild who is even at her very tender age an amazing child on so many levels.  And I fell in love again.  I fell in with her older cousin a year ago at her birth and it's just got worse at every visit since.  Last week I fell in love with EJ.  I can't say enough about how sweet and squishy and adorable this big eyed little bundle of energy is.

It was different with EJ.  She came to us by adoption and was several months old when she arrived at her permanent home.  We knew for several years that "some day" there would be an adoptive child. And we loved and prayed for this child, knowing he/she may not even be born yet.  So getting to know EJ wasn't exactly at ground zero. This little person had to get used to me and come to trust me before she would laugh at my fish lip kisses or raspberries on the tummy.  We were just getting to be good friends when I had to leave.  It was hard.  Really, really hard.

All that being said, I have to confess to a new appreciation for the love of my God as well.  It makes so much more sense now about His great heart that He sacrificed so much so I could be adopted into His family.  Like EJ, my original situation was most dangerous.  Like EJ, I was sick.  And I was different than Him.  None of that mattered.  He accepted me and just like EJ will always be a Horton, I will always be a child of God.

It's doubtful our new granddaughter will ever look like either of her new parents, but there's no doubt she will take on many of their fine qualities and mannerisms.  They will raise her to be the respectful, responsible, resourceful and creative person God intends her to be.

I take comfort that God is doing the same with me, that in His love and kindness, even in this stage of life He's still leading me to be the person I'm supposed to be.  He remains the best Parent ever.

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Well, when I first saw the guy I was assigned to sit by on the plane I thought "terrorist".  Middle Eastern, skull cap, beard, black robes. Turns out he even had an accent.  Other  people were trying to avoid looking at him -  I could tell they were uncomfortable.  So I smiled real big and pointed to the seat between him and the window.  He jumped up,  helped me wrestle my bags into place and let me in.

During all this I saw the ornate wooden cross around his neck so I knew something else was up.  After struggling internally a few minutes I jumped in with both feet - "So you're obviously a  man of the cloth -  tell me about yourself."

And he did. This soft spoken gentle man and I had a nice chat about church history, persecution of believers in the Middle East, life, faith, cultural bubbles, scripture, seminaries and teaching tools.  I even recommended a place he may consider as a retreat for the seminary students he teaches.

So that was part of my very interesting day coming home.  I have my doubts  whether an hour beside a crazy Baptist lady will have any impact for him and in the long run, probably not for me either.  But I did see him soften when I told him about "our people" praying for "his people" and I now have a face to go with my brothers and sisters in the Middle East who know better than I what it is to suffer for the Cross.

**********************

Side note added  later.  For the record, six months after this event in February 2015, 21 of "his people", Egyptian Coptic Christians, were captured by Isis in Lybia and beheaded. 

Onward, Forward

For many years, for reasons of my own, I didn't go around advertising my college affiliation. It's only been in the last few years I listed it on Facebook.  Like including my maiden name, it's so people from my past can find me. (Not that anyone has exactly beat down the door to find me, let alone connect.)  One look at our family photo and the opinion pendulum swings from "Thank God they survived that college" to "Poor things fell from grace."

I have no reason to address either concern.  When it comes to opinions, I take to Kipling's advice, "If all men count with you, but none too much."

That being said, there are many things I'm very thankful for from my college experience, the one which I want to praise today being teacher training.  Guess what?  We weren't taught to use standardized curriculum.  I have marveled in the years since graduation at all the nicely packaged curriculums that have been developed, many for both classroom and home school use - all organized and laid out and ready to use so that most of the teacher's work is to implement lesson plans right out of the box.

We didn't get that.  Many of the teachers I studied under WROTE their own curriculum and our lessons as future teachers were to WRITE our own lessons. While textbooks were used as a starting point for many disciplines, it was fitted to the students, not vice versa.   Even classic Zaner-Bloser handwriting material was supplemented with exercises and practice of our own writing and choosing. We learned to research, to be resourceful and creative. This mindset extended into student teaching where we had to be innovative while nailing the study material.

I left college equipped to teach, but didn't.  By the time I graduated I had a husband and a family which took priority. That's not to say the education was wasted -  it most certainly equipped me to be a better parent and later on to teach adults believe it or not.  In the beginning it was in a career capacity, then ministry, then public service and now  . . . . children.  The same age group I taught back then no less.  All these years I've been practicing by writing lessons and power point presentations for grown ups and now its the real deal - teaching children about God.

And true to the way Mr. Smith, Mrs. Barbier, and my other wonderful instructors taught, the "textbooks" turned out to be a springboard, a starting point to get me headed in the direction God is leading this thing.

I had the blessing of meeting someone I had admired as a youth a few years ago. Jessie Rice Sandberg wrote for a nationwide publication for many years and turned out to be as warm and engaging and down to earth as I had imagined her to be forty years before.  One comment she made during that meeting was that God's (main) purpose for our lives might very well be during these late afternoon and sunset days of our lives. With my own kids all grown and managing their lives without my help now, that gives me hope.  It is a challenge to rise to.

And I thank Hyles Anderson College, First Baptist Church of Hammond and Hammond Baptist Grade School for their part in helping me meet that challenge.

Forty Cents Left Over

I found myself in a government office not long ago taking care of some government business required of law abiding citizens.  Fortunately there were no pending deadlines that cause long lines so my wait was reasonable.

An tiny elderly black woman sat down beside me who had come in with a relative.  She was modestly dressed and prim at the same time and carried herself with dignity and grace. I was glad to share the wait with this sweet lady.

It was also payday for the employees of that office, and upon opening her check one employee exclaimed, "Thank you Jesus I have money left over after paying the bills!"  (For those from other parts of the US this kind of outburst is common and widely accepted in the south.)

This prompted my new friend to start talking, "That's right.  God makes sure there's always just enough.  I remember paying my bills and having forty cents left over and I was soooooo happy because I had something to put in the offering plate on Sunday. People made fun of me because I was so happy to have that forty cents left over, but I knew I was blessed because God was taking care of me.  There was always just enough!"

Today was bill paying day.  After more bills came in yesterday I knew it would be tough to cover everything, but you know what?  There was just enough.  In fact, there was  six dollars and thirty seven cents left over!

$6.37.  Wow.  Probably the exact same amount adjusted for inflation.  You know, I'm very thankful for it, also for a faithful God, and for a valuable reminder from a dear lady.  Betcha know where that money is going Sunday morning!

Of Words and Wounds

I re-learned a word today.  It's actually one I've known a long time but have pronounced incorrectly pretty much all my life.  The word is 'poignant'.   Learning its correct pronunciation took on an added dimension for me today.  

Poignant is an interesting word with several nuanced meanings:

1.  keenly distressing to the feelings: e.g. poignant regret.

2.  keen or strong in mental appeal:   e.g. a subject of poignant interest.

3.  affecting or moving the emotions:  e.g. a poignant scene.

4.  pungent to the smell:  e.g. poignant cooking odors.

Take definition #1.  I experienced that kind of keen distress today.  Mid afternoon I found myself in a state of shock, covered with blood (wearing church clothes no less) and pretty much unable to function.  The whole fiasco was of my own making.  I take full responsibility for the events that led to having to break up a blood bath dog fight and getting injured in the process.

Definitions #2 came into play shortly thereafter.  It was a poignant concern that my wounds get medical treatment and the sooner the better.  Dog bites are no laughing matter.

Definition #3 has defined the rest of the experience and what follows are some poignant lessons from the day.

1.  Proverbs 27:10b.  Better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off.   I was already eternally grateful for the family friend who dropped everything to take me to the ER today. Even while I was still in shock his stories helped give proper perspective to the situation and take my mind off the whole thing.  

2.  The curse of sin is alive and well on this earth.  We've lived with enough shelter and peace in this culture that we find ourselves shocked at the capacity for horror that lies hidden in both our own hearts and the precious animal friends that live on this earth with us.  Men like our friend (see #1) who have been to war are more aware of it and somehow manage to live fruitful productive lives despite having been exposed to that.

3.  God is always in control.  Apparently I lost my watch in the incident. I always thought it only told time but today it protected the most vulnerable part of my arm.  It stopped forever when it stopped a dogs teeth on that part of my wrist. That's a dent dead center in the middle. You can't see it but there's a bit of blood next to number "7" between  the pushed down face and where the crystal used to be.

And how did anything as poignant as the pronunciation of poignant come up in all this?  Honestly I don't remember. It was late on the way home.  That's ok -  it led to some good conversation and despite all the negative poignancy about the day the lessons in the school of hard knocks were learned well,  and the kindness and care from both near and far are deeply felt and will be long appreciated. 


The correct pronunciation of poignant may be heard in this  youtube video.  It's worth learning!

Something Else Going On . . .

I'm living a double life.

For the record this isn't my only blog.  I actually have another one,  http://notsewnew.blogspot.com/.  The title is the same as my smaller, less well known etsy store by the same name.  You get to see my heart here at beemusement101.  Notsewnew shows my hands.

That being said I should probably explain that name. 

1.  My maiden name is New.  I was a New girl for 21 years till I married.  I'm still a New by birth and family, but am a Horton now by marriage. In that regard I'm not New anymore.  I'm not New by age either.  Youth has come and gone and I'm older and wiser.  I think wiser is a pretty good trade off since I don't have quite the pep I once did.

2.  I like to sew. Don't have as much time for it as I used to, but like it nonetheless.  So much so that my sewing room is obscene.  Seriously. 

3.  I really like old stuff, stuff that's not so new.  Old sewing stuff, old farm stuff, old bottles . . . if it's rusty, chipped, stained or even broken, I like it and can often find a new life for it.

There you have it.  The story behind the name.  And the link.  See what my hands have been up to while my heart ponders the mysteries of the universe.

"Oh Poop!"

This is as close to swearing as it gets around my house and I'm not going to tell you who says it, just that its not me. Usually.

Truth is, I've been thinking a lot about the mess lately.  It started with Sherah, the ah-maz-ing woman in I Chron 7:24 who built (drum roll please) 3 cities!  A close examination of what all was involved for a bi-racial woman from a family with a bad reputation to build 3 cities in the Bronze Age led me to believe that she probably started by herself with a shovel  - digging sewage trenches.

Poop.  She had to plan for removing the poop if her city was going to offer a decent standard of living. 

Then there's the oxen in Prov. 14:4.  No oxen?  Everything is nice and clean and no work is getting done.  Oxen present?  Work is getting done and there's poop to deal with.  I think everyone who's ever held a job can vouch that there's junk, in some form to deal with even with the best of jobs.

I wouldn't venture to say that it's a biblical principal that work and accomplishment produces poop, but I think it's safe to say that it's an observable life principal.  Even dream jobs have their fair amount of paperwork and/or management issues and/or, well, you get the idea.

The thing about it though, the junk, the poop, the trials, the tribulations, the waste, doesn't have to be wasted.  Remember Sherah's cities?  Those trenches down the hillsides of Upper and Lower Beth Horon ran into plains.  And all that nastiness returned to nature and made the soil healthy and fertile so that it eventually grew  crops that fed many people.

I don't like poop/refuse/dung.  It's nasty and it stinks, and on a farm with assorted animals I'm always checking my shoes to make sure it don't get tracked inside. But it's a fact of life, and would be even if I didn't live on a farm. Crazy thing is, with time and good decomposition it can be valuable and useful, and people even buy it -  in 45 lb bags at Lowes no less!  I like to think that God, with time and His direction, will make the heartaches, trials and tribulation by products of my own life useful, valuable and even life giving.  And I hope its presence means that good work is being accomplished as well. 

More Random Tired Thoughts

Today has been . . . eventful.  (I say today because it was 10/30/2013 when I started writing.)

Nothing earth shattering mind you, just full of busy-ness and blessing.

A good handful of us Wiregrass Beekeepers Association people met at the fairgrounds this morning for the annual ritual of decorating a club exhibit for the National Peanut Festival.  How we ever manage to get top prizes year after year remains a mystery to me.  We're rarely organized.  Usually one or two people come up with an idea close to the last minute and we pull it together.  This year three of us women brainstormed less than a week before setup time and the results are phenomenal.  If you live in the Wiregrass you should go.  And you should dance.  It's that good. 

While having that finished is very satisfying even more so is something most beautiful that happened while I was knee deep cutting out lots of letters.  Turns out one of our "competitors" at the National Peanut Festival (NPF) wasn't able to pull it together to decorate their booth.  It was the local food bank, the ones who feed hundreds and thousands in our community.  While my lady friends were putting the finishing touches on our booth, the menfolk were plotting and planning, and after a quick lunch and a grocery/pumpkin run, we decorated their booth as well.  Staff at NPF covered the walls. We did the rest.  United Way never lifted a finger and they have a great booth that they can be proud of.  Letters and all.

I got out of there around 3:30 and after a quick Publix run to get the hubs his favorite milk, managed to make it home long enough to catch my breath -  for about 20 minutes.

Because there's more.  After picking up J&K, my young neighbors and friends, we headed to church to decorate for (drum roll please) Trunk or Treat.  This is the 2nd year our church has hosted a Harvest Festival and this time Mrs. J asked me to manage that part of the festivities.  I don't know how much managing I did - mostly just ask folks to participate, give them ideas, help where needed and make sure the cars were parked in the right places.  Everyone who donated and/or decorated their vehicle and/or dressed up did a fabulous job.  I can't say everything went as planned, my plans anyway, but God's plans were just awesome and I don't think it could have gone any better.  Except for candy.  Nobody anticipated attendance doubling from last year!  Thankfully our Pastor had an emergency stash. We had several Bible characters, clowns, Phil and Willie, and a bee.  (What else would I bee?) 

I can't say I learned anything profound.  But I was blessed by seeing age old truth at work.

Teamwork
Cooperation
The blessings of giving
Paying attention to detail but not sweating the small stuff.
Praying
Planning
Sharing
Loving People

Grace

So that's my day. I don't anticipate another like it for -another year maybe?  But it's been good.  And tiring.  And satisfying.  In two days the booths at NPF will be judged.  There's some good prize money riding on it.  But really, even if our club don't win this year, in the grand scheme of things, we've already won.

Because we did the right thing.

Now I'm going to bed.

Random Tired Thoughts

I got home around 8 this evening.  It was a tiring drive made easier by a couple of Tim Keller Sermons and conversations with kids and grandkid.  As a side note on that last personage, there's nothing quite like hearing your best childlike voice telling a six week old via speakerphone all sorts of earth shattering stuff to keep you grounded in whats really important.

This trip contained lots of important stuff.  Pertinent peoples knew about it, but I spared any would be burglars who would have robbed my house the agony of being greeted by my husband and his pack of dogs by not announcing it on facebook.  Seriously -  one might rightfully expect to get bit or get stung sneaking  around my house uninvited.  But I digress.  Remember, I am tired.

Everything is still soaking in:  two days of intense classroom instruction by some of the nations top instructors and taking the most brutal test of my life;   hanging out with one of my best girlfriends that I see once or twice a year;  my mom working on my ingrown toenail  (ok, I know that was gross but she's the only one who can do it without causing me great pain);   going off road with my mom and then my cousin to see my dad's favorite deer plots; seeing a struggling church rally and trust God for survival, bringing home a boatload of stuff for ministry purposes.

Good Stuff

Good Memories

And Responsibility.

To whom much is given much is required.

I have been given so much.  My dear sweet husband has supported this seemingly insane endeavor to become a Master Beekeeper and now that it's almost complete (a bit of paperwork to tidy up) I've got a new sense of responsibility to pursue my two beekeeping related passions -  1) education with the purpose equipping more beekeepers so  2) Africanized bees will be held  in check.  Call it eco-activism or whatever, but it's driven my train for a few years now.  Maybe now people will listen to me.  If one person can be saved an excruciating stinging experience or even death, it will be worth it.

And even more important, if one person can be pointed to the Creator Who's design of the little bee is equal to our own, all the better. 

First Lessons

Since I'm chugged up with a nasty summer cold and have chosen not to share it with the whole church I'm home alone this morning.

And since Sunday morning belongs to God regardless I found a reference to my very first Prison Ministry lesson in a favorite book I was thumbing through. It took me back - quite a few years in fact.

The lesson was on Michal, the daughter of Saul and the first wife of David. The story of her life begins as a young princess in love and ends as an embittered woman left to her own misery. The passages that intrigued me to study her are found in II Samuel 6:

vs. 16 And as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal Saul's daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart.

vs. 20 Then David returned to bless his household. And Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David, and said, How glorious was the king of Israel to day, who uncovered himself to day in the eyes of the handmaids of his servants, as one of the vain fellows shamelessly uncovereth himself!

The starry eyed bride who helped her husband escape death was now attacking him with everything she had. What happened?

The bottom line of the lesson is in Who/what each chose to worship. David had lost himself in worship to God. Michal worshiped, well, other things. It's that simple.

In the twelve or thirteen years that have passed since first delving into Michal's life, I've read many books and heard many lessons and sermons that continue to shed light on this thing about worship. Perhaps the best is from my pastor:

“Worship is focusing my minds attention and my heart's affection on who God is and everything He has done for me.” David Lewis

Everyone worships something. Some recognize it, some don't. Some admit it, some don't. Most go through life blindly chasing what they think will bring happiness. The list of idols is long: new (house, car, job etc), romance, finances, authority, recognition, etc. There's no denying these things bring pleasure, but good things are ultimately unsatisfying when they are THE ultimate thing. In Michal's case it was self image. She was trapped in that preteen girlish nightmare of what people thought.

I love Mark Batterson's take on this incident:

“I think David gives us a picture of pure worship. Worship is disrobing. It is taking of those things outside our relationship with Christ that we find our identity and security in. It is a reminder that our royal robes are like 'filthy rags.' It's not about what we can do for God. It's about what God has done for us. And that understanding produces the greatest freedom in the world: having nothing to prove.”

I hope you will worship with me today.  Clothed of course.