Don't Write it Down

My mom's advice to me was "If you don't want your father to read it, don't write it down." Those words kept me from writing a diary and have hindered me a lot as I try to write my passionate feelings out.

Not just dad, but most people. I will either hurt myself or someone else if I write some of the things down that are going on in my head. So, I try to avoid difficult situations and simply ignore the process. This might be why I talk so much. The spoken word can be much more ephemeral and people generally don't listen closely enough to recite a conversation verbatim. Oh, I've gotten into trouble by believing that maxim, but for the most part, it holds.

This is why you will rarely read much 'angst' on my blog or read words where I bash and trash people. Don't let me fool you. I go through as many periods of angst as anyone else and I bash and trash on a regular basis. It's one of my greatest failings. I hate that the Bible is constantly teaching against gossip. That fully messes with some of my greatest conversations. And generally, I just ignore it. Good Christian girl, aren't I?

I wonder what I would have done if mom had implied to me at a very young age that dad could hear all of the words that I spoke. Would that have ingrained in me a fear of even speaking badly about others? Poor mom learned that lesson the hard way many times. Whenever she would begin gossiping about someone, by golly, that person or a friend of theirs was in the booth right behind us at a restaurant. She taught us to scout out the room before we let her proceed with ugly words.

There's one other thing that makes it easy to refrain from writing down passionate anger and angst. When that happens, it is so easy to be reminded of those ugly feelings and thoughts. All one has to do is re-read and re-read the words written. If I don't write them and the passion passes (which it usually does with a good night's sleep), I'm not continually reminded of the situation that brought those feelings about.

So ... tonight I'm not writing things down that tick me off. I'm reliving memories of my family and that is much better.

Getting an education. Cheat?

Nope. Not what you think.

I told my nephew, Matthew that I would take his Bible classes with him. He's taking two of them this semester and I've ordered the books. He sent me the syllabus for one of the classes. I just have to ask for the other one. Biblical Studies (Hermeneutics) and Old Testament Survey. The biblical studies is probably going to annoy me, but I plan to go through it and see what I can learn. I'm always up for learning. And hey ... it's just reading and processing. That is my forte. Words on paper? Oh yea ... baby.

The Old Testament Survey class? I'm not even to the scripture part of this and I'm already a little high from learning. I will apologize right now - you may be reading a lot about the Old Testament over the next few months (until the end of the semester). But, that's good for all of us, eh?

Did you know that although the OT is primarily written in Hebrew, there are several passages that were written in Aramaic? Aramaic and Hebrew were both Semitic languages. Those passages are: Genesis 31:47b; Ezra 4:8-6:18, 7:12-26; Jeremiah 10:11b; and Daniel 2:4b-7:28). I went into my Bible to mark these passages that were in Aramaic, and lo and behold, I already had most of them marked. Goes to show ... my brain loses information regularly.

There are many early Old Testament texts:
The Masoretic Text. Composed about AD 100, Oldest known copy about AD 1000. This is the most reliable text.

Samaritan Pentateuch. Composed about 200-100 BC. Oldest known copy about AD 1100. A decidedly Samaritan slant.

Dead Sea Scrolls. These contain at least a part of every OT book. Confirms the reliability of the Masoretic. Composed about 200-100 BC. Oldest known copies about 200-100 BC. (These are all being scanned and photographed and will be posted digitally over the next few years. The scanning process is bringing up all sorts of characters that weren't visible to the naked eye. I'm excited. A lot of scholarly work will be done on these once they are shared with Biblical scholars around the world. Check out THIS CNN story.)

Those are all in Hebrew. Then in 300-200BC, the OT was translated into Greek in approximately 300-200 BC. It was called the Septuagint. Oldest known copy about AD 300-500. Confirms much of the original text.

Here's how it goes. I'm learning what Matt is learning. You're learning bits and pieces of what I'm learning. Hmmm ... that's a lot of fruit from one kid's tuition!

Fire or Ice

"Christ was in agony in prayer, Luke 22:44. Many when they are in prayer are in lethargy, than in agony. When they are about the world, they are all fire; when they are at prayer, they are all ice."

--Thomas Watson

This quote kind of freaked me out this morning. Well, not really freaked me out, but definitely encouraged me to think about where my passions lie. I have been searching for quite some time (years) for the reasons behind my less than stellar prayer life.

I talk to God all day long. In fact, if He couldn't automatically 'know' what was happening in my life, He'd know because I'm always talking about it. He hears everything! It's actually become a fairly mundane part of my days. In some ways that's awesome. In other ways, it tells me that I'm taking the Creator for granted. Oh good heavens, that is NOT a good thing! I certainly don't appreciate it when I can sense that Max takes me for granted. That I'm just going to be there to listen while he babbles on and on and on and on. I love him, so I do listen and try not to complain.

But, there's no passion in any of that. Christ had such amazing access to God, yet his prayer was one of agony. The great thing about this is that God encourages us to get deep into prayer and doesn't leave us alone while we do it. "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." Romans 8:26.

How do you pray? Do you treat prayer as if it is another thing to check off your list of 'to do' items and when you are done, you forget the time that you spent in prayer? I think I'm going to try to drag my memory back to junior high, the sensations and feelings of getting to know a new boyfriend. I treasured every moment we spent together. I love being with God!

I Want to be a Writer

If I had any concerns before today about the intensity of my desire to write, those were allayed this morning.

I took Leica out, grabbed the mail and sat on the stoop to flip through the letters and junk while she wandered around the front yard. Junk, junk, junk, a note from Priscilla, I recognized the Christian Book Distributor catalog, clothing catalog and what's this? My first issue of "The Writer." I had decided that maybe I needed to delve more deeply into the world of writers and see what I could learn from them.

As I began scanning the articles, I recognized names of authors I read, some I didn't read but knew who they were. It looked like a lot of good information for a beginning author. I started to get excited.

I turned to an article by Jane McBride Choate called "12 ways to prepare for publishing." I barely got through the first three points and I was sobbing. With excitement! I had to drag the dog back inside (she was quite unwilling, it's a beautiful day) and sit down at my computer to write ... this.

Ok, I also am placing my online order at Hy-Vee.com and had just remembered to order toilet paper, so that was a priority in the middle of typing this blog, but sigh ... real life enters in sometimes.

Sometimes it doesn't seem so difficult to choose writing over cleaning the kitchen. Honestly, that was in my plans for today (cleaning the kitchen). But I have the fridge emptied, the trash taken out back and the dishes washed. I think I'm going to leave the floor for later and see what empties out of my brain!

Hmmm ... it's noon. Do I need lunch first? Nope. I guess not.

Training

It's never easy to train someone to take over your job. There are so many things that are done instinctively and through sheer repetition. The gal who is taking over the Communications Director position at FW is amazing. She is a fabulous graphic artist and I'm a little intimidated by that. I try not to be - that was never my strength, but still ...

The only things I need to be able to tell her are how FW works, where I've hidden files (no really, I'm fairly organized), how all of the systems work, due dates, etc., etc. Since it's easier for me to just get these things written down in some sort of organized fashion, I've finally begun doing that. All of the details that are in my brain are finally rushing onto paper (ok, digital screen ... whatever). I've been processing on this for weeks. However, she starts work tomorrow and I'm guessing today is as good a time as any to actually get my thoughts from my brain through my fingers.

There are lots of small details on how to run the printers in the office, who actually is responsible for getting information to her, which processes she is responsible for, etc., etc. Those are starting to come out. It will take most of the day for me to be sure that I've gotten everything said. And, then I am confident that I will have forgotten something very important.

Whenever I would leave for a few days and have to ask Carol (or someone else) to take care of my animals, I always typed out an immense 2-3 page set of instructions. Just call it a brain-dump. I have since learned that my witty commentary and highly detailed information meant nothing to anyone other than me and just decided that I would leave the food beside the dish and expect that she could probably find the kitchen sink to turn on the water. No instructions get left anymore.

Now, I don't do this very often, but I wonder if God looks at us with the same sense when we really don't pay attention to his set of instructions. Do you think that He worries that much over the commentary and instructions that He left us? Is God offended by our lack of attention to it? Hmmm ... I wonder.

The immediacy of it all

Alright, I'll admit it. I'm old. I remember life before cell phones and email. I remember long drives with the radio as the only sound I heard. I remember eating out with friends and family and not being interrupted by the whims of others.

Several weeks ago I just decided that I'm tired of the world having immediate access to me every moment of the day. I began leaving my cell phone in the car when I went to someone's home or out to dinner. I began turning it off (gasp) when I wanted to think or read or sleep.

I've discovered that I like it. And to top it off, I honestly am not certain where my cell phone is right now. But, please don't call so that I can find it. This is nice.

To an End

My time is really coming to an end right now with regards to Faith-Westwood. I managed to leave that job in a slide rather than a jump. The contract to help them maintain communication is nearly up and I pulled my last piece of stuff out of the office on Wednesday.

I think I'm glad to be done (done will occur next week when the new Communications Director finally dives into the job). It's impossible for me to limit myself to 10 hours / week. In fact, I just plain don't do it. There is stuff that has to be finished and no one else to do the work. It's fine, I knew it was temporary.

I do a lot of things well. I manage to multi-task really well. Except when it comes to writing and researching, reading and processing. For those things, I need quiet. Uninterrupted quiet. I can't be thinking of a million things that need to be done. I will tend to do those million things first so that I can get back to the quiet. I know that my quiet time during the day is really limited. Max comes home from work, friends want to go out to dinner, family is around. All of a sudden, I'm not concentrating.

So, I'm glad to be done. I'm glad to retrieve hours of concentration back into my world. Now, if I could just quit thinking about how to fix that place!

Halfway There

Ok, I'm way beyond the midpoint of my life (I suspect). It's an interesting thought process ... thinking about the past and the future. I have a lot of past behind me and of course, I have no idea how much future.

I've been reading a couple of novels lately that were written in the late 80s and early 90s. When they talk about the recent past, it's one that I'm very familiar with. The 70s. These books have thrust me back into memories that I have long since quit looking at.

My nephew has just started college. He has an immense future in front of him. At least 4 years of college, maybe marriage and kids, a career. Those decisions are all behind me now. It's just plain weird!

I have experienced 5 different decades. World War II was prevalent in the memories of the generation just before me. My grandmother was born in 1900. Her husband in 1898. These dates seem like eons ago, yet those two people are clearly present in my heart and mind.

This is weird.

Linear time. Memories. The past. The future. History. All of these things exist because God created us within 'time.' Hmmm ... when I read the opening of Genesis, my teaching tells me that the first thing that was created was the heavens and earth.

But, read that sentence again. "In the beginning ..." God created time first. There was a beginning. That means there is an end. (I know, I know ... read all the way to Revelation ... I'll find the end.) Could we cope with life that has no beginning and no end ... just existence? What an interesting concept!

I feel out of place right now in the timeline.

On being at home ...

Here are a few things I've noticed about myself during the weeks since I left my job.

1. My body clock now rules. I stay awake until 3 am and get up at 10:30 am. I'm much happier. Not necessarily more rested, but happier.

2. If I don't shower and get dressed right away, I get nothing done. I spend time trying to encourage myself to get moving and end up wasting time away.

3. All of the trash that I threw away at work is now in my home space, there is always a full trashcan!

4. I have not done all of the big, profound home cleaning/reorganizing/redecorating projects. I believe that tomorrow will be filled with time to do those things.

5. Leica gets more attention from me. I have time to take my dog and my Kindle to the front stoop and read while she sleeps in the shade.

6. I haven't gotten more holy. You'd think I would have more time to pray and read my Bible and do all of those holy things. Not so much.

7. I like the telephone even less. I've said it before, I'll keep saying it. I'm a hermit.

8. With my weird hours, I actually have time to read. Books. Again. I can't believe the number of novels I have plowed through. It makes me feel like a real human being again.

9. My mind is quieter.

10. I actually haven't lost track of the day ... too often. This morning, I asked Max why he was up so early when he woke me up. It was 6:52 and made no sense to me. He stumbled around in the conversation, confused. It occurred to me to ask him what day it was. I thought it was Sunday.

11. I'm still barefoot, but I tend to hurt my feet more often when I'm outside with Leica. I should learn to put shoes on - but, I won't.

12. It's strange to get in the car and drive around the city during the day. I wonder what other people are doing. Are they working? Playing? Getting from one job to another? I never used to care.

13. I have not become the amazing cook for my husband that I probably should be. I have the time, but not the inclination.

14. I'm beginning to see my obsessive, compulsive side return. It's slow coming back, but I remember it used to exist years ago - before I had so many things on my plate that I could no longer carry it. And don't worry, Diane's OC side is a good thing.

14. Life isn't necessarily slower, but so much more enjoyable. It's peaceful. I will cut back on everything that I can to maintain this lifestyle. And I wonder why we press ourselves so hard to achieve a media-driven American dream. We miss the simple joys because we speed past them.

So, now it's time to get moving. I've been awake for awhile and spent some time writing this blog. I think there are other things I should be doing. Or not.

Obsessed with the Bible

I read an article (Cult prayed for lifeless boy's resurrection) on cnn.com this morning. It saddened me.

But, these words from the mother of the girl caught up in this cult spoke volumes to me and saddened me even more, "My daughter was very religious. She was into the Bible -- obsessed with it," Khadan-Newton said. "They (were) going to show her the right way. She got sucked into it."

The gist of the story is this: A cult in Maryland starved a little boy because he didn't say "Amen" after a meal. Then, they prayed for his resurrection. Well, decomposition happened first. The young mom of this boy has been arrested, as have the cult leaders, for murder. Her mother says that she has been brainwashed. Of course she has.

The implication that being religious and being obsessed with scripture leads to cult-like behavior is appalling to me. Yet, that is what happened. This young girl was searching for meaning and the cult offered her more than anyone else had up to that point. Who decides what is right when it comes to interpretation of scripture and intentions of God?

I don't like these stories. They cause me to consider just where I put my belief structure. Jesus told us the truth would set us free. But, sometimes mankind sets down a limited interpretation of truth and builds prisons - in fact and in our minds.

Do we limit religious freedom because we are concerned about abuses? Because that rabbit hole can lead to incredible persecution based on individual leader's interpretation of abuse.

I don't like these stories. My initial reaction was of horror. I believe I'll quit thinking about it and leave it with that initial reaction.

Glee

The researcher in me just had a bit of an out-of-body experience. I landed on Lisa Gold's blog. She does a lot of research for writers. Now, her blog is going to just make me high every time she posts.

Today, I decided that getting high meant looking at some of the basic reference websites she uses. I was practically twitching by the time I had two of them bookmarked.

From her blog:

• www.refdesk.com: Refdesk.com is a truly vast and headache-inducing site, with links to thousands of websites. It may be better for finding quick facts than doing in-depth research.
• www.nypl.org/links/: The New York Public Library’s “Best of the Web.”
• www.loc.gov/rr/main/alcove9/: The Library of Congress’ annotated list of reference websites.
• www.digital-librarian.com: A librarian’s choice of the best of the web.
• www.lii.org: Librarians’ Internet Index.

I've spent time on refdesk.com before. It gives me a headache. I've spent time on the Library of Congress site. It's cool. By the time I got to digital-librarian, I had nearly lost my sanity! All of this information! All of this fun!

It didn't help that on a previous post she had pointed me to a thesaurus that sent me into complete apoplexy. Ohhhhhhhh .... it's all over for me now.

Victim or Adventurer

"...he realized that he had to choose between thinking of himself as the poor victim of a thief or as an adventurer in quest of his treasure." (The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho)

I feel like I'm on an adventure. I'm thankful that right now I have the option to make choices which allow me to pursue the adventure, rather than sit still limited by my choices. Sometimes, though, it's all about how we look at things!

We all know plenty of people that spend most of their waking moments complaining about their lot in life. There's not enough money, they aren't being fulfilled in their job, their children drive them crazy, the list of complaints is interminable. Day after day the same things come out of their mouths. Victims.

I find that this type of thinking has increased exponentially in the last couple of decades. It's easier to complain and whine and hope that someone else will fix things for you than it is to take a step out, a step in faith, a step beyond the box.

Sometimes it isn't about changing the situation, it's about changing how we look at the situation. Sometimes it really is about changing the situation.

I'm fortunate. I've been given the opportunity to make some big changes in my life. But, I'm also 48 years old. I spent 20+ years in a job that could have killed me, but it didn't. Every day was an adventure. I know that to have followed all of my dreams, I would have had to set aside my concerns for my family and the responsibilities I had taken on. I chose to stick with them and try to not complain too loudly when the stress got out of control.

Victim or Adventurer. Which attitude will you take for the next few days of your life?

So, what's new with you?

It was an interesting evening. I spent it at Papio Bowl. My sister used to have these "I'm Never Getting Old Parties." Then, she got old. Then, she got over that and decided it was time to have another. Well, weird thing. People around her definitely got older. Including me.

I spent the evening chatting with many of her friends. People I haven't really seen in 4 or 5 years. And the question comes up continuously ... what's been going on in your life? Hah. Do they really want to know? I'm guessing the answer is a resounding 'no.' They don't have time to listen to me tell the tales of change and tumult that have occurred in the last 2 years of my life. So, we chatted about the banal and insipid, quietly leaving the deeper issues on hold. They're Carol's friends, not mine.

But, as I talked to one of her friends, she described her life to me. Not much had really changed since I had last seen her 4 years ago. How do you tell someone that you are always changing, but there are no big differences in your life? Every once in awhile, something big happens to your life, a job change, marriage, divorce, enter school, complete school, new kids, family deaths. But, for the most part, we live our lives and hold pretty close to the status quo.

That doesn't mean we aren't learning new stuff and meeting new people, experiencing new things. How do you describe to someone you are having a five minute conversation with, the excitement of a 10 hour drive through Iowa and uncovering the beauty of the surrounding area. How do you let them know that just this morning, God took you into the Psalms and introduced you to a completely new manner of communication with Him? The small changes. Those things that allow us to have hope for a better tomorrow, even if all of the stuff stays the same around us. That's what is new in my life.

Even though I have dealt with a lot of 'big' things in the last couple of years, the excitement in my life comes from discovering a new book, listening to my friends tell me about what they are experiencing, hanging out for a couple of hours with old friends, watching my husband enjoy taking photographs, sitting on the front porch while Leica explores the same old yard, enjoying my niece and nephews as they grow up.

What's new with me? The same old thing. I'm so thankful for that!

Quick Run to the Quick Trip

After supper tonight, we made a quick run to the Quick Trip. Max went in for me, I sat in the car and watched people. I needed AAA batteries for my Mighty Bright Booklight. It wasn't so quick. They lock their batteries up in a case. Someone had to track down the key for the case. I'm guessing they don't sell a lot of batteries.

As I waited, I watched a 20-something young man dressed in security guard clothing. He was emaciated. Ok ... skinny. I could've taken him. He wasn't terribly threatening. He came out with a package of gummy bears. Quick sugar. So young.

My eyes were quickly arrested by the strange man who had saran wrap around his left calf. Shorts and a t-shirt. Really. He didn't look so strange ... except for the badly wrapped saran wrap. He was in front of Max at the counter. I asked Max if he could tell why there was plastic wrap and he said he couldn't see a thing.

Article on CNN.com about James Hoyt. He was one of the first 4 GIs who entered Buchenwald at the end of WWII. Max's Uncle Bill was part of the liberation of that camp. He never talked about it. Max asked and asked and Bill just couldn't bear remembering. But, we can't dare forget.

Whoosh ...

And the last few days are over. And here I thought I was retired. I look around my house and see that not only have I not gotten anything productive done as far as cleanup, but things seem to have gotten worse. Errr ... what? It's not like I have left my desk to do much other than leave the house. So, I'll blame Max. It's what I do.

I can tell that people are headed back to their normal fall activities. I'm creating pieces to kick off programs at church and I'm creating pieces for Carol and her 6th grade class.

Met up with some friends at Pepperjax. GoodNESS, but that's one of my favorite places to eat. Fortunately I don't feel guilty over taking up a table and reducing the possibility of a waiter's tip. We were able to hang out and chat for a few extra minutes. That was a good thing. I love my friends.

It's pretty interesting - I have wonderful, wild friends that are in my life in so many different ways. Have you ever given any thought to how varied your friendships are? Once, long ago (many years - don't ask), Carol and I were trying to put together a dinner party. As we considered who would work well together, we realized that our friends were so very different, it probably wouldn't work out to have them all together at the same time. What a riot!

I treasure the differences that my friends bring to my life. Each causes me to look at the world a bit differently. If all of my friends were exactly alike, I would only see the world from a single perspective. But, as it is, my mind is constantly maneuvered into new avenues. If one were missing from my life, I would lose the perspective that they bring to me.

So ... tonight, I'm much too tired to delve deeply into the truth that is friendship. Jesus wants us to be His friend. And if we are a friend of Jesus', we are a friend of God. Sounds pretty good to me. Maybe that is what I will cogitate upon as I drift off to sleep. Goodnight!

Why I love my dog

I just finished reading "Marley and Me" by John Grogan. I laughed so much that I hurt. At one point I was sitting on the front stoop while Leica was warming up in the shade and I began laughing so loudly I caught myself and quickly looked around to see if I was embarrassing myself. I was safe, so I began to read again. The laughter got louder the second time, so rather than subject myself to anymore concern over being thought a fool, I tugged on Leica's leash and we retreated to the safety of the living room.

As hard as I laughed throughout that book, I sobbed at the end. Of course I knew that Marley was going to get old and die, I was just hoping that he wouldn't write about it. You see, I like my books and my movies to be happy. No one ever dies, no one ever has trouble in life ... everyone is happy.

But, what a glorious book about the relationship between a man and his dog - even if the dog is the world's worst dog ever.

Every dog I've ever had was a great dog. When I was young, we started out kind of rocky with our pets. My grandfather kept trying to have dogs, but he was very bad at it. Joey and Katie ended up at our house after he discovered he couldn't deal with them. Katie was an absolutely insane Viszla. There was no controlling her. But, we found good homes for both of those dogs. We also found that three children had gotten a hint of the fun of having a pet and weren't going to last very long without a dog around. It was all over for dad. Mom had grown up with dogs, Dad hadn't. He lost.

We soon found ourselves looking into large metal cells at the Burlington Humane Society for the best dog ever. Charcoal went home with us that day and became an immediate part of our family. She was followed by Odie (actually, OD - Other Dog. Jim and a friend had rescued two part-Schnauzers from a man who was going to kill them and hid those two dogs in the loft of our garage. When he asked mom what we would name another dog if we got another dog, she flippantly said, "OD - Other Dog." And Odie came into our lives). After Charcoal died, Ghenghis Khan, King of the Mongrel Hordes soon came to live with us. That little Shih-Tzu lived up to his name. Mom died before Ghenghis and he moved into an apartment with Carol and me. I believe he was stolen one evening when he chased around a corner before I got there. After weeks and weeks of looking for him all over the neighborhood, our hearts were broken. But, during that time, I was at the Humane Society every evening looking for him. I didn't find him, but I did find my very first dog. She was all mine. A little black poodle mix. I named her Isolde. I took her home that first evening and she plastered herself against my body. From that day forward she rarely left my side. She loved me with everything she had.

Several years later, Isolde died and it wasn't long before I got my first dachshund - Bert. What a great little guy he was. He was insane over rubber toys that had whistles in them. It was great entertainment to watch him go nuts while trying to remove the whistle. Once it was out of the toy, he could relax. He was never more than 10 feet from me and I could trust him to be off-leash and never wander away. He transitioned with me from Carol to Max.

When he died at about age 16, Max and I felt freedom for the first time. We could travel as we wanted and never had to hurry home from dinner. But, you know what? Those weren't nearly as important as I thought.

I heard about a miniature dachshund in Kansas that desperately needed a home. I begged, cried, pleaded and whimpered at Max until he relented. He said we weren't going to have another dog until I could be home with the dog. I didn't care. I needed a dog in my life. We drove to Nebraska City, met the woman from the rescue and met Leica. She wasn't terribly sure about all of the chaos that had been in her life to that point, but I was.

She was 9 years old when we got her. I can see grey around her snout. I know I don't have a lifetime with her, but she is definitely worth every moment I do have. There is something wonderful about the incredible love a dog offers you. Leica is definitely my dog but she loves Max like crazy. One evening he sat on the couch and she leaped up to get close to him. He looked at me and said, "she really does love me, doesn't she?" Of course she does. She's a dog and is so glad to have her people around.

When we leave, she dashes for the kitchen counter to watch out the window. I hope that at some point she settles down to sleep, but when we come home, she's there again, wiggling with joy that we are home. She follows me up the stairs and down the stairs all day long and when I head for the front door, she can barely contain herself at the possibility of going outside.

At night she snuggles in the crook of my legs, but before crawling under the covers she launches herself onto my chest to kiss me over and over.

I love my dog.

Psalm 8

I was struck by the 2nd picture of the Carina Nebula (click on the picture for more information) and haven't been able to get this Psalm out of my mind today! When I finally moved past the first verse, I managed to get stuck on verse 4, "what is man that you are mindful of him?" This is my hymn of praise today.

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is
your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory
above the heavens.

From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.

When I consider
your heavens,
the work of
your fingers,
the moon and
the stars
which you have
set in place,


what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?

You made
him a little
lower than
the heavenly
beings and
crowned him
with honor.




You made him ruler over the works of your hands,
you put everything under his feet:



all the flocks and herds, and the beasts of the fields,


the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.





O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Memories of long ago

Cool! I just found my best friend from high school on Facebook. I haven't talked to her in a long time. Now, I have to explain how cool this is. You see, I'm old. There aren't a LOT of people my age on Facebook. When I signed on, I didn't expect to find my classmates there, I expected to find my younger friends, because they're supposed to be so much more computer-savvy. I was right.

All of my life statistics reduce the probability of me finding my old friends on Facebook. 1. My age, 2. I came from a class with a limited number of people (116). When I began looking for friends from my class (and those right around it) on Facebook, I found 3 that had graduated in 1977 (and yes, I understand that many of your were born long after that year). I had known them, but not well, so I waited.

For some reason or other, I checked again the other day - and there she was! I see pictures of her kids - all grown up, one of her nieces got married - that freaked me out (we're much too young for that to happen - right? nope). Her sisters that I knew well because of all the time I spent at her house and her mom. Oh. It's a good thing.

This is the girl I got into trouble with, I explored great music with, we drove around town for hours in the evenings in her car back when gas was a nonissue. Four of us would pile in her car - pitch in 50 cents each for gas and drive all night. Sigourney had a square. The courthouse was in the center and stores ringed the outside of the square. All of the kids spent their evenings circling that square in their cars. Sometimes we'd pull into parking spaces and chat, sometimes we'd go into the pizza place for supper, sometimes we'd make the full loop of the town - out the mile-away to the gravel road, back into the high school, down Pleasant Valley - out to the swimming pool - but we'd always end up back on the square.

She is the one that I skipped school with. It was senior year - second semester. Gym was last period and we hated gym class - so we left. We went to her house (her mom worked, mine didn't) and went up to her attic room and listened to music. I fell in love with Manhattan Transfer because of her. Then the day came that mom was pounding on her front door. She had a beautiful oval glass panel in the door and I could see mom's fury coursing through that door. We were caught. The gym teacher threatened to flunk me so I couldn't graduate, but the principal and I made a deal - absolutely no more absences from gym class and I would pass. The only 'D' slip I ever got was from that semester.

We haven't had much chance to talk on Facebook yet, but I certainly am thrilled to see her face again! And at my age, it's nice to bring back memories of younger years!

So much life

I was just standing outside with Leica on the leash watching the cars zoom by the house. Different cars, different people, all with something going on. The air was heavy with moisture, the grass green, squirrels running for the trees. Life! So much life!

One of the memories of mom's death was the shocking realization that there were just a few of us filled with the sensation of death and loss. The rest of the world was living! And at the worst moments of my days, there were people out there enjoying life, doing things that had absolutely nothing to do with death. It was hard to comprehend since I was mired in grief.

A few weeks after mom's funeral, a young man from our church was killed in a car accident. He had fallen asleep at the wheel and hit a bridge abutment. His family was plunged into grief, death and loss. When I heard about the accident, I was heading out to a movie with some friends and the realization of the sharp contrast between life and death came to me again.

Death happens once in a life, so we tend to anchor it in our memories. For many people the idea of holidays without their loved ones is painful, even for many years after the actual loss. Time is marked by the date of a death. The first Christmas, the first anniversary, the first birthday - all after a death has occurred. And years pass, while not so many dates happen every year, there are some that stand out in our memories. For me, a late spring snowstorm reminds me that in March 1987, we were brought to a standstill by a spring blizzard that occurred the day after mom died. March 27th doesn't get too far into the annals of history without me remembering that was the day that I watched her die. It's been 21 years and I still remember.

But, what about life! While one death occurs in a life, the life is filled with so much more than that! I don't want to focus on the loss of life, but on the exquisite beauty of the life that is lived well! As I stand outside among the chaotic sensations that life brings, I am thankful for a reminder that God is on the move, He is creating, He is filling our lives during every moment of our lives. There is so much life!

Dungeons and Dragons

Oh my, you read that right. My friends and part of my family are ready to toss me away. But yes, I have returned to the earliest known Diane gaming world. Max, Carol and I drove down to my brother's house after work today to see if it was even possible for us to begin playing the game again.

Here's the story.

Once upon a time, long, long ago in a town far, far away, a young girl graduated from college. With no immediate plans in her future, she moved home and got a couple of jobs. It so happened that she returned to the familial abode during the year of her brother's final high school grade. The little brat that had annoyed her for so many decades (ok, about 1.8) was actually interesting!

He and two of his friends were playing a strange game called "Dungeons and Dragons" and having a blast being creative. So, without further ado, she figured out how to make it more comfortable for them to play by adding music, atmosphere and food. She also learned to play the game with them.

Hours and hours of endless creative fun passed that year. The girl and her brother were able to become friends and peers. But, alas, he graduated and went to college and she left town for a job far away. Whenever they managed to be home together, sporadic games of D&D would occur, but it was never the same again.

I honestly just figured that with the rapid growth of computer role-playing games (RPGs) and then the onset of online RPGs, Dungeons and Dragons was a thing of the past. About 4 years ago, a rather strange young man came into the print shop and was copying player character sheets and maps for an adventure. Lo and behold, I found that the paper gamers were still quite active and in fact, the publishing company just released the 4th Edition of the Game.

I purchased the set: Dungeon Master's Guide, Monster Manual and Player's Handbook. I purchased some dice: 8-sided, 20-sided, 12-sided, 10-sided, 4-sided. Oh yes and a few regular six-sided die as well. Jim started designing his adventure for us and this evening we settled in with pizza, pop (diet mt. dew for me - 25 years ago, it was regular mt. dew and Hostess ho-hos. None of us can do that regularly now!) and books in hand.

We were lame. Many things have changed, many things were forgotten in the last 25 years. But, we had fun nonetheless. And the best part was introducing the game to my nephews and my husband. I need to study the Player's Handbook and get some of the rules under my belt again.

It's such a great way to spend an evening. There is constructive play, lots of conversation and you actually have to think creatively. I had a lot of fun, Max had never played before and thought it was fun. This is going to be a blast!

I'm a female Elvin Cleric. I can cast spells, heal, and wield a weapon. Now, how could life get better than that?

Religion? Church? Christian?

I've spent the better part of the last 48+ years believing that to be a good Christian, you have to attend church. Not just fellowship, but church. Dad was a huge proponent of people belonging to church. So, I did. And I bought into the whole 'church is the largest part of your faith-filled life' attitude.

I don't want anyone to think that this is another rant against the institutional church, though it may end up there. What I'm doing right now is processing information. That's actually why I haven't written much lately. I can't bring myself to tell you all that I'm processing on until I get to a point that it makes sense to me. The last thing I want to do is to encourage people to walk the path of confusion that I'm taking.

I begin to wonder if we have become so acculturated to attending church that we can't really think about what it looks like if we didn't actually go to a building on a Sunday morning and sit through a sermon and some songs. Before you freak out, I am not talking about removing a form of regular Christian fellowship from my life, but I am questioning what format it should take in my life.

James says (James 1:26-27) "If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

That's interesting to me - and quite challenging. James isn't talking about faith, he is actually talking about religion! Dictionary.com has quite a few definitions of religion, but the one that applies the best is: a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sect.

Wikipedia says "The term "religion" refers to both the personal practices related to communal faith and to group rituals and communication stemming from shared conviction."

Personal practices and group rituals and communication stemming from shared conviction.

It occurs to me that religion is developed by humanity. We band together to create a set of beliefs and practices, our shared conviction brings about communal faith rituals and communication. James tells us, though, that God actually has a prescription for religion. I don't know that I've ever seen this verse before - ok, maybe I just haven't paid attention.

But, I don't find myself actively doing any of those things: keeping a tight rein on my tongue, looking after widows and orphans or keeping myself from being polluted by the world. I suspect that attending church on a Sunday morning is much simpler than actually adjusting my behavior to match that which God is asking of me.

I don't know that I can accept that in myself or in people that I encounter on a Sunday morning any longer. I want so much more.

Oh please don't think I'm passing judgment on anyone. I'm certainly not. There are plenty of people who attend worship regularly on Sundays and are working like crazy to follow God's precepts. This is all about me. This is all about me not wanting to accept the easy religion. This is all about me trying to find out what God is asking of me personally.

Changes in my life lately? Wow. I feel like I've been splattered everywhere and I see all of the pieces laying on the ground. I'm putting the puzzle back together, piece by piece and I don't think it's going to look the same as it did before I started. That's kind of exciting!

Beautiful evening

Friday evening. 7:45 pm. Max and I have been driving across Iowa to find 'the shot.' We seem to do this a lot now that he has his camera. And, now that I have my laptop, I actually enjoy writing while we are out. I'm parked in a field in front of an old grain bin. Max has walked into the field next to me and set up his tripod.

We never know what we're going to find out here, we just keep looking until one or the other of us says 'how about that'?

I love Iowa. The sights, sounds, smells just fill my senses. Crickets, cicadas, birds, flies buzzing around, and even a frog croaking are sounds that fill my ears. As I look across the vista in front of me, I see the gold prairie grass and freshly mown green grasses. We are next to a soybean field and on the horizon there are rows of trees punctuated by farmsteads. The scents flowing through the car windows are of fresh grasses. There are sounds I can't identify, but for me it is beautiful.

Max likes to shoot pictures in the late afternoon, early evening and early morning. The shadows grow longer and give him interesting subjects to shoot. This is a peaceful time of day here, very little traffic and the wind of the day has settled down.

I think I need a nap. I was up late last night reading and writing. I'm warm right now with the late sun coming in the car window/ I could easily fall asleep. In fact, I am doing a lot more editing as I get droopier and droopier. My fingers forget where they are at on the keyboard. If I nod off, however, you won't even know it. The next words I type - whether they be within moments, minutes or hours will be the next words you read!

Last Friday we were out and came across a beautifully serene scene.A horse and a donkey were in a field grazing. The background was filled with trees, clouds in the sky and rich grasses. I pulled over, Max set up his tripod and began to prepare the picture. It was soon ruined however by the horse and donkey. They came trotting over to see Max in action and pose for the photographer. It was a riot! We didn't stay long after tht, but he did get a couple of shots of the kids posing.

The sun continues to set. Max continues to shoot. What a beautiful evening.

Weird Dreams

You know, I've told some of my friends that I have very strange dreams and I really enjoy them! In fact, they are generally more entertaining than television. A lot of my dreaming is based on books that I'm reading - the freakier, the better!

This morning I was in the middle of a dream stranger than most. Max woke me up as he was getting ready to leave and I tried to tell him I was having weird dreams, but he pretty much ignored me and went about doing his thing. Hmmmm ... I don't blame him (hehe).

However, this was entertaining enough that I have to share with you!

The whole family was at Bell's Dell (our cabin in north central Iowa). Jim had brought up some old D&D gaming things, with characters that I had developed years ago. I thought it was fun. Then, for some reason or other, he and I needed to leave to deal with something. We got in his van and at some point were on the interstate headed east. I looked up, the sky was bubbling in interesting colors and then, there was a huge dragon coming toward us. It opened it's mouth and whoosh! A blast of flame surrounded the van. We drove through it and the dragon continued its westward path. I looked at Jim and said, "I'm glad you're here to see this. Otherwise, no one would believe me!" He kept driving and another ... smaller dragon was in front of us. It opened its mouth, but we moved past it quickly and no more blasts of fire.

As I looked up there were immense creatures all over. They looked like the large balloons that you see in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, but were autonomous and nearly alive. There was an immense, cartoonish elephant rumbling down the opposite side of the interstate, scattering cars to the side.

I was trying to call Max (Jim had this awesome computer display in the visor of his car - don't ask, I make these things up in my dreams) to let everyone know what was happening. Jim turned off the interstate to head back to Bell's Dell. Whatever errand we were on was not nearly as important as getting back to our families. Along this 2 lane road, all of a sudden, there was an immense Spiderman that flew up beside us. He pulled ahead of us and began rapidly clapping his hands to stir up the air currents and throw us off course. It didn't work and he flew away.

By the time we got back to the cabin, there was a large group of people there. And for some reason, I was in serious trouble. These people were afraid of me and I found myself on a deck facing a wood chipper! I looked around the meadow and saw my family and a few friends. Carol got my attention to show me how they were planning to get me out of the situation. I just needed to hold them off for a few minutes. So, I began to preach! I called for my Bible. Someone found it and brought it to me and I started to preach on fear and the end of the world.

I kept looking at the wood chipper and thinking that this was not a pleasant way to die and I needed to get these people to turn their minds to something else.

And then ... I woke up.

I know where the wood chipper came from in the dream. I had been watching several episodes of "Bones" and that implement was used to spread skeletal parts around an area. Carol is at Bell's Dell this weekend and I've talked to her several times, so I know why that imagery is in my mind. But, the large balloon characters? Dragons on the interstate? Preaching on the end of the world? Yah. Got no idea.

Still Gotta Love the Weekend

Ok, my favorite thing about the weekend (and evenings for that matter) is that Max is around. Granted, the man is a geek and hangs out a lot in front of his computer, but it's kind of nice to be able to talk to him immediately rather than hope that he has time to answer a telephone.

Yesterday was great. He got home after work and we took off for Southwest Iowa. It's our favorite place (because it's close) to haunt with his camera. Leica is a pretty great traveling companion, the Jeep is a fabulous vehicle to take on the backroads of Iowa and my Kindle is good entertainment for me while Max is wandering ditches and highways looking for 'the shot.' He has finally gotten some photos that he has uploaded to Flickr.

When we first got married, his photography was his life. Every chance that we could, we were in the car and out driving so that he could shoot. We learned a lot about southwest Iowa ... a part of the state that I had never spent much time in. I think we hit every single historical marker in the area and it was a joy to find interesting sites and explore them. Max got some fabulous photographs at the time and one of these days we'll get those negatives scanned. But, until then, Max finally has a camera and lenses that make it fun for him to be shooting again.

Once I got involved in a church, our travels ended. Max got a job at CompUSA, his schedule changed, our lives got hectic and we simply didn't have time to traipse around on the weekends. I must admit that I am so grateful for the time to offer back to Max.

Freedom

I slept well last night. I was pooped. 'Hurricane Carol' hit my house with gale-force winds yesterday. She tells me that I am a packrat with a heart. She's right. It's not that I buy or try to collect a ton of stuff, mostly people give it to me and I can't get rid of it. But, I've been at the end of my rope for awhile and have been ready to purge. Yesterday, it began.

When I tell you that you have no idea how much stuff is in my house, you might think that I'm exaggerating. I'm not. It's incredible. I've lived in this place for nearly 19 years. My friends have been generous with me over the years (read: I get gifts that turn into stuff), my father began passing on family memories to me, before that I had accepted my mother's kitchen and life into my world and then my grandmother's kitchen stuff into my world. Carol has managed to move into smaller places every time she moves and I absorb more things when that happens (we don't mean for it to happen, it just does!). Max is the worst packrat I've ever met. I don't think the man understands the word 'trash.' If you know me at all, you know that is the one thing that I could pound him for ... but, I digress.

I'm going to go look at a cute little house on Saturday. The rent is higher than we are used to paying, but no one gets away with what I have gotten away with for 19 years. I've been darned lucky. By the time we're ready to move (whether it's this place or another), I hope to be down to nearly nothing.

Carol and I filled the back of my Jeep with stuff for Goodwill, the backseat with boxes for the storage unit (oh yeah ... there's more stuff from my world). After we got rid of that, we came back and Max showed up. So, we filled the back again with an incredible amount of computer parts, cases, etc. that we are taking to my nephews this evening. Jim said 'bring it.' Again, he has no idea how much he is getting. The back seat is filled with books that I'm going to take to my friends at church. I have another huge load of stuff for Goodwill that is being collected into a space so that it can go tomorrow and we're gathering more boxes and tubs for the storage unit.

Several years ago, Carol came over for a weekend and we did an immense purge of stuff - much of it to a 20 cubic yard dumpster. I don't have quite that much trash now ... it's just things that need to be in other people's lives.

I received this quote in my email this morning, "We have very little, so we have nothing to be preoccupied with. The more you have, the more you are occupied, the less you give. But the less you have, the more free you are." --Mother Teresa

She's right. Well, of course she is.

My First Love

I finished the second two books in the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. I'm so enraptured by these characters, I can hardly stand it. Edward Cullen (the vampire) is in love with Bella Swan (a very human girl). He is the perfect boyfriend. He stands as her eternal protector, but he is so concerned with her feelings and reactions that he is willing to set everything aside so that she is happy, even if it means being without her.

While it probably makes sense now that I should tell you about my first love, it's not in the way that you think.

God has taken me back into the book of Revelation. I can't believe I'm here again. I spent an interminable amount of time studying this book and all of the related commentaries and books I could get my hands on.

I've moved into Chapter 2, which begins with the letter to Ephesus. I know these letters intimately, I actually spent over a year just reading and studying them. In Chapter 1, verse 20, Jesus tells us the mystery of the seven stars and seven golden lampstands. The seven stars are the angels (or messengers) of the seven churches and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

I was talking with a friend earlier about my disappointment with the institutional church and where God might be calling me right now. I haven't got answers yet, but I am spending time asking questions. I didn't know what asking those questions was going to get me into, though. I began reading this evening and didn't get past the letter to Ephesus.

This is a church that was very busy. They were known to Jesus. How? For their hard work and perseverance, they routed out false apostles, endured hardships for Jesus' name and had not grown weary. These were a hard-working bunch of Christians. Yet ... they had forgotten their first love. He told them to remember the height from which they had fallen! And then, to repent. If they didn't, he would remove the lampstand from its place. What was the lampstand? The church.

As I prayed, I began to realize how closely this church resembled me. I've spent many years being very busy, working hard and enduring hardships. Yet, I don't take time to think about the intimate loving relationship that I have with Jesus. I'm much too busy for that. I began weeping and weeping as I thought about the love portrayed in the story (Twilight) that I've been reading and how that barely begins to describe the relationship I have with Jesus!

As I cried out to Him and told Him that I wanted Him to be my protector and I wanted to feel the embrace of His mighty arms and the tenderness of His touch, I realized that many of us miss out on that intense set of emotions because we are filled with so many fears. Rejection, uncertain of the reality of His truth. Many of us have never experienced the raw power of complete love. A yearning that goes beyond anything physical. A yearning that reaches down to the very depths of our soul.

I remember trembling with excitement the first time a boy held my hand. We could barely look each other in the eyes, but soon, our fingers touched and our hands were clasped.

I remember the first time I had such an intimate moment with Jesus I thought I was going to burst. When He filled my heart and my mind and I didn't think that there could be anything else on this earth except me ... and Him.

This is exactly what Jesus was telling the church in Ephesus and what He is reminding me of tonight. As I began to picture Him waiting for me to draw into His arms, my tears continued to flow. But now they were tears of unbelief. That I am given the chance to be that close to Jesus - all the time. He wants to hold me with all of His strength. He wants to brush away my tears and whisper ageless words into my ears. He wants to tell me mysteries and express the love of Creation. He is the physical manifestation of the God who comforted David and protected Daniel, who guided Moses and led Joshua. Who spoke words of truth to Isaiah and Jeremiah and who taught Jonah and gave wisdom to Solomon.

He is my first love. How can I move from His arms to be busy again? I don't want to do anything else except to walk moment by moment in His will. Where He leads, I will follow. Where He tells me to go and what He tells me to do, I will obey. He is my first love.

What a Woman Sees

I am reading Revelation right now ... decided that I wanted to start over on that book. Obviously a year's worth of study in one book wasn't enough for me. And it's not! There is so much that I don't know yet about this final book in God's Word.

Ok ... anyway ...

I got stuck on Revelation 1:12-16, the description of Jesus Christ - the son of man.

"I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone "like a son of man," dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance."

While I was reading this, I began to giggle a bit. I've also been reading the "Twilight" series by Stephenie Meyer. In it, a young woman falls for an absolutely gorgeous vampire. Meyer's descriptions of Edward Cullen (the vampire) are glorious! A reader can't help but completely fall in love with him. Throughout her books, she paints a picture of a young man that sparkles when sunlight falls on him, with smoldering eyes that are a liquid golden topaz, skin that is like marble, facial features that are perfect and angular, fingers that are slender, and a dazzling crooked smile.

It doesn't take long for Meyer to make the average woman fall completely in love with Edward Cullen. He is the perfect boyfriend, a gentleman in all ways, a protector, he is exciting and mysterious. I was originally quite astounded by the attention this series of books has received, but once I started reading them, I was quickly drawn into the story and the characters.

One of the things that we don't see in the Bible is a physical description of Jesus Christ. Many assumptions have been made regarding his appearance, but none of the Gospel writers felt that it was important to tell history what He looked like. The only time we get a description is when John sees Him in Revelation. And that image is like nothing we have seen on earth.

So if you were a writer and were trying to describe what Jesus Christ looks like, what would you say?

Good Morning!

It's 4:15 am and I am sitting in front of my computer. I should be sleeping? I was. In fact, I slept well tonight - the first good sleep I've had in awhile. The Air Conditioning is back on at the Muir household and I feel like a normal human being again. I hate to admit how out of control I get when heat and humidity oppress me, but there it is. My life has been strange for over a week ... just a lot of things going on and with the fact that I've had no air conditioning, I haven't even been in my home for at least that long. Do you know how weird it is to be in Omaha and not go home? Yeah, I don't like it.

But, right now I feel rested and content and finally a yearning to spend time in the quiet with God. Oh. The other part of being all 'out of the ordinary' is that I was constantly around someone. Anyone, everyone. I was never alone. A lot of it was Max and I love him more than life itself, but don't forget. I'm a hermit at heart. And we hermits need definite alone time with a little bit of air conditioned comfort! Today is going to be a great day!

I took Leica in for dental work and the removal of two fatty tumors from her chest yesterday. After I dropped her at the veterinarian in the morning, I came back to my very warm house. I sat in front of a few fans and it was tolerable. Ichabod was awfully glad to see me and get a chance to hang out with me. I had ordered a Kindle from Amazon.com and it showed up about 10:30. That meant that this girl didn't do anything at all. In fact, I had to drag myself away from the thing at 2:45 to make a sandwich to calm the growling of my stomach. I can't believe I am going to be able to feed my reading addiction again. It is a most wonderful tool.

Whoops ... I got distracted. You don't know it, but a bit of time has passed since I typed the last paragraph. I was praying, heard God tell me to get to my Bible, realized that I could put one on my Kindle and ended up at Amazon.com. I know, I know ... He meant the Bible that sits on my desk. But, right now it's stuck in a bag somewhere. And yes, I know full well, that God wasn't encouraging me to purchase one more thing. But hey, give a girl a break! While I was there, I decided that I really needed Lee Strobel's, "Case for a Creator." Ummm ... yup, this is going to be a problem.

So - off I go. I'm going to have to turn a light on at this point so that I can actually read and communicate with God through His Word. But, it's cool in the house, I've had 5 hours of sleep and I can get a few more when we're done chatting!

Customer Service Rant

Yup ... this is going to be a full-blown rant. If you don't want to read my whining and complaining, it won't hurt my feelings.

I have spent 4 hours today on the telephone with customer service from various retail suppliers. For the most part, they all stand out as hideous, but two companies have nearly pushed me over the edge of sanity: Capital One and Newegg.com. Both will receive letters of complaint from me, but I can guarantee that neither will care.

I try to be patient with companies that have many customers trying to get information, but at some point, my patience is replaced with fury. I'm tired of having my calls shunted to a customer service center in another country. I understand the need for inexpensive customer service care and I understand that these call centers in other countries are trying to provide training, etc., but I've had it! I don't want to have to explain myself several times to make myself understood. I don't want to have to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to understand what someone is saying to me. I don't want to have to explain all of the reasons for my request.

At some point, this customer service person is simply reading off a script and when presented with a question that can't be answered by the script in their repertoire, they repeat one of the previous answers ad nauseum. Because of cultural and language differences, there is no leap of understanding that is made by the representatives.

Last night on my way to dinner, I called Capital One to find out why my funds had been put on hold. I had made a large payment on Thursday, and all of a sudden on evening, no longer had access to funds in my account. I was told that because I had made such a large payment, they would be putting my funds on hold for 10 days!

Are you kidding me? Because I pay attention, I knew that the funds would be removed from my bank account today. I pushed and pushed the representative, who kept repeating the same information back to me. I finally got furious and demanded to speak to a supervisor. After a 15 minute wait on hold, I was told that the account supervisors were no longer there. Well, duh - during that wait, the hour had changed. I just hung up. I tried again this morning. And after waiting and waiting, giving my account information to 4 different people and moving back and forth between foreign speaking people and others, I finally got to a person who told me (after a 1/2 hour wait to get to her) that they had transferred me to the wrong department. I freaked out again.

I'm certain that these representatives don't want to have to deal with furious customers, but let me just ask how they can expect anything different? I had been on the phone for over an hour, been transferred through 4-5 systems, given my credit card number, PIN number, home phone number, ok ... they had my life ... each time I was transferred and then I'm told that I had the wrong department.

The automated phone system kept telling me that they cared about my call, that they had higher than normal call volume. I don't believe they care and I don't care if they have a high call volume, it should be their job to hire enough to meet that call volume.

Capital One is losing me as a customer and there will be a letter explaining how disgusted I am with their customer service.

By the way, I've discovered that when calling India - I get excellent background music while on hold - when I'm into an American system, the background music is filled with static. The music will change back and forth as I'm transferred through these systems. Drives me insane. Do they think we're stupid?

As for Newegg.com? Well, they kind of have you over a barrel. There simply aren't great ways to purchase computer systems. This group has the most insane verification process I've ever seen. You can't ship anything to a second address without them freaking out. I had to call Capital One back (don't even ask - I wanted to kill for this requirement) and add a friend's address so that Newegg could ship to this person. Excuse me, what? I have worked with numerous (and it's more than that number) online retailers and this has NEVER happened before. Yet, again, when I pushed the issue, I kept receiving the same statement: the shipping address must be verified by your credit card company.

It really didn't change anything. It simply made things more of a pain in the butt for me. I had to call Capital One, deal with another foreigner that couldn't understand what I was asking for, add a temporary address to the credit card, then call Newegg back and tell them that I had done that. Shipping!!! Not billing. Shipping!

Yes, they have great prices, but no ... they have lousy customer service. Adding a shipping address to my credit card does not prevent fraud - it just makes me annoyed.

I dealt with Amazon.com and Jeep's customer service today. I've been on the phone with my bank and numerous other retail establishments as well today. And, I'll be honest. With both Amazon and Jeep, I know that I was dealing with foreign customer services. When I hear, "I wish you have a good day," I know that he doesn't know my language. I wanted to scream, but I put my patient voice back into my mouth and just dealt with the annoyance.

The training must be much better for Amazon and Jeep, though. I was able to get questions answered and the young man at Amazon took excellent care of me as quickly as he could.

So, why the public rant? Because I also know that these companies search the internet for their name and links to their names. I'm freakin' sick and tired of lousy customer service and if people let them know how disgusted they are by this behavior, it has a better chance of changing than if we just allow it to happen with no pushback. I'll be pushing back.

Gotta love Wifi

We are back in Webster City ... at a hotel ... with a shower ... and wifi!! My brother pulled the shower out of our cabin last fall and we are still working on the plan to replace it. Consequently, I refuse to sleep there. At some point in my day I need to have hot running water. Alright, it's not so much a refusal as it is a chance to hide for a night and offer the rest of my family a shower tomorrow.

We were up here a month or so ago and in a different hotel which advertised wifi and the stupid girls at the customer service desk couldn't figure out how to make it work. I wanted to send my half-nekkid husband down there and simply have him unplug and re-plug in their router, but I figured that internet wasn't worth the effort of bailing him out of jail. We are at a different hotel this evening and not only is there easily accessible internet, but it's also much nicer. Score!

What a great day we've had. We were a little concerned since none of us had been up to the cabin since the Iowa flooding happened last month. The meadow had every possibility of being a complete mess with debris littered throughout. That would require an enormous amount of work from all of us as we tried to clean it up so that it could be mowed. But, yea! the meadow looked pretty good and the grass wasn't as tall as we worried it might be. See ... worry gets you nowhere.

I have the best family. I'm not kidding you! There are three of us kids - my sister, Carol and my brother, Jim who has 3 kids with his wife Janet. The eight of us truly enjoy being with each other. In fact, we miss each other a lot when we wait too long to hang out. Max, Jim & Janet took off this afternoon for Fort Dodge and came back with a fire pit grill. So, Jim grilled steaks over hickory wood for dinner! Oh my goodness - better than any restaurant!

Carol mowed the meadow, I watched Jake play video games, Matthew talked to his girlfriend on the phone, Emma texted her friends and took a nap, the dogs played ... great day.

After dinner we congregated in the screened-in front porch to laugh and enjoy each other. Of course, no matter where we tried to take the conversation, it always ended up with poop. Good heavens, we could not leave that conversation to save our lives. But, you know what? I've come to the conclusion, that everything ends up as poop.

We'll head back in the morning for more fun, lots more food and probably more poop conversations. We are also planning how to renovate and re-energize the cabin. We are a little excited as we think about finding ways to make it look nice and be more useful for small and large groups.

Max and I are staying in the same hotel we stayed at last year when we were here for Dad's funeral. It was kind of strange walking in here - the last time I was here, I was caught up in strange emotions. It's interesting to think about how time changes our outlook on things.

Max has taken his shower. It's my turn. Goodnight!

Thank You

As I was processing on my last post, it occurred to me that some of you who are reading this deserve my thanks.

I have friends who are there for me through thick and thin.

I have friends whom I have grown closer to in just the last few months.

I have friends whom I could never live without, even though we don't see each other regularly.

I have friends that challenge me in many different ways. To think thoughts bigger than I might have ever thought.

I have friends that encourage me.

I have friends that are excited for me.

I have friends that believe in me.

I have friends that would lay down their lives for me.

I have friends that offer all they have to me.

I have friends that teach me different aspects of living, different ways of thinking.

I have friends that teach me about tolerance.

I have friends that stir my passions.

I have friends that expand my horizons.

I have friends that pray for me.

If you read this, and think that I might be talking about you. I am. I cannot believe the gifts that God has given me in my friends. Thank you for allowing Him to work through you in my life.

To say Thank You.

One thing that I'm exceptionally grateful for is the ability to be ... well ... grateful. I think that this is one of the most astounding gifts that my parents gave me. We didn't grow up with much. When I think back to my childhood, it was pretty barren in comparison to what I see children with today. I distinctly remember standing at an endcap of a store looking at an Etch-a-Sketch and being told that we didn't have money to buy that. Such a simple toy and there was no money. Mom would spend hours creating amazing toys for us to play with. She was a fabulous artist and I remember how she would create gorgeous paper dolls on tagboard. We would cut them out and then create clothing for them from stacks of paper. You see, mom loved to write and she would type all of her stories and poems and lessons, so there were always reams of paper around the house. Carol and I would sit for hours designing gowns and outfits along with hats and shoes for the paper dolls mom had created. A pile of paper, a bunch of crayons and some scissors was all it took.

Since we were a pastor's family in small towns, the church community took care of us in wonderful and weird ways. One church made a huge deal at Christmas over us. One year, there were small red stockings hanging on the Christmas tree at the church with each of our names on them. Mom and Dad both received cash, but the three of us kids received hundreds of pennies in our stockings. We were awfully small and thought we had incredible wealth poured on us. Another year, they pulled back a curtain and there was a beautiful wing chair. They gave us a television one year and a stereo (yes, with an 8-track player in it) another year. It was awkward standing in front of the congregation while these gifts were given to us. But, mom and dad taught us how to say thank you. Because you see, the gifts weren't about us, they were about the love that the congregation had for Dad.

Gifts are rarely about the receiver. They generally describe the heart and soul of the giver. It's the connection between the two - the giver and the receiver - that makes a gift fabulous.

I remember a few 'awful' gifts. One year for her birthday, dad gave mom a wheelbarrow. He desperately needed one at the cabin and didn't have the money to spend on two separate things. It was either the wheelbarrow or a birthday gift for her. She cried. Fortunately, she had a great sense of humor, too and within a few days, it was a classic family story.

As soon as I was old enough, Dad began to rely on me to actually deal with mom's gifts. She loved Chanel No. 5 perfume. By the time I was purchasing gifts for her, Dad planned a little better and saved enough money to send me to Corner Drugstore to purchase a bottle for her, wrap it up and have it ready at dinner that evening. She cried, but this time, I believe they were tears of relief.

Parishioners have given us many strange gifts over the years. We would receive wonderful produce from their gardens - one woman gave us 200 pounds of potatoes. You might think I would hate potatoes after all of that, but mom learned to use them in many ways and to this day, it's a favorite staple. One day I came home from school and on the dining room table - in a vase - were two cow's tongues. Someone had given them to Dad and he thought it was a howl. Mom didn't, but she did cook them up for dinner that evening. Nope, I don't like tongue. Another time, we received a batch of pig's brains. I'm not really sure whose sick joke that was, but mom was never one to throw away good food.

That night at dinner, she set the table with candles and the fine china and silver. When we asked what we were having, she informed us that it was "Cerebral Delight." You know what? We had no idea what she meant, we were much too young and we liked it!

We three kids were always told who had brought us gifts and food and were asked to please say 'thank you' the next time we saw the person, which generally happened within a week at some church function.

Mom never let us get through Christmas Day without writing thank-you letters to our grandparents and anyone else who had given us gifts. In the morning, we opened gifts, there was lunch and generally a nap and before we took off or did anything else in the evening, we were required to write out our letters. We wrote thank yous for everything that was given to us from our grandparents. Mom didn't care what they said, as long as 'thank you' was in the message. Let me tell you, I've seen a few of these letters and they were insane babbling from very young children. But, as soon as we could write, we were writing them.

I'm grateful for that training. It makes it easy for me to say thank you - sometimes I forget, but I do try. And it makes it easy for me to say those words to God regularly. I want to be seen as a grateful person. I want people to hear those words from me. I want God to know how much I am thankful for all that He has done. Because I am a fortunate woman. I have been given much.