Waxy Resemblance

These photos I found amazing.  Take a look at "View Gallery" on the left hand side too. 

http://news.yahoo.com/madame-tussauds-unveils-queens-jubilee-waxwork-120317507.html

Read by Moonlight

A could-have-been tragic childhood is dappled in moonlight.  With secular momentum the author choose to be a servant leader to her needy mother and younger sisters.  Her sense of duty and what is right is strangely steadfast.  I think she graciously writes about her parents who were particularly bad examples.  Her step dad and his parents brought her some much needed stability.  The book is subtly about forgiveness and relationships.

Snake Handlers

Fritz spotted this 60 inch snake in the middle of our street the other day. As Ben reached down to grab it, the snake reared its ugly head and darted its tongue. Ben's youth, which could make a Texas tall tale, was full of adventures with Rattlers. Consequently, Ben didn't think twice when he handled this Texas Rat Snake.

I, on the other hand, lived the life of a city girl and was convinced the snake had the head of a diamond, perhaps 500 carats, and the venom of 100 cobras. My Saturday would have been perfectly bright without experiencing a reptile up close. If I had had the nerve, I would have hit the snake with a 2 by 4 if Alex hadn't done so first. Ben, who is outdoor educated, was horrified that his eldest would hurt a perfectly beautiful snake. Heartless me couldn't have cared less. Inwardly I delighted that I could trust Alex to be a man of action and to slay (or, at least, daze) all the monsters in my life.

While the snake was in a semi-stunned state from the jolt to his noggin, Alex held it. Even still, the snake curled its tail around Alex's arm and started to constrict. Now if that doesn't give you goose bumps, I don't know what will.

FYI: The snake was relocated to our neighborhood creek. Maybe he'll think twice before heading this way again.

This Birdbrain

Yesterday my neighbor asked us if we wanted to take care of a baby mockingbird who had fallen out of the nest in her yard. Well, why not? We took a box over and collected the birdie from under a prickly bush.

Jane attempted to feed him a live worm. No go. He was quaking in fear. We tried birdseed, a fresh garden tomato and a snail. He kept his beak tight as if he already had been warned that humans might try to poison his supper. He was untrusting and I don't blaim him. There are some spiritual parrallels between the bird and me. I think I am wary of the good gifts from above when they aren't served how I expect them to be. Why can't I grasp that God delights in satisfying his birdies' souls with the richest of fare? He never makes mistakes. He invites us to come drink living water and feast on the best in Isaiah 55. Do I believe His Word, or don't I? Sometimes I act like the rescued baby bird and want independence rather than union with my Rescuer.

Considering my own rebellious streak, it shouldn't have surprised me that the baby bird started a-squawking and hopped right out of the safety of his box. That's when we decided we couldn't tame a wild bird, and he preferred to be outside under the prickly bush where maybe his mother would come back and find him. What touched me most is that my husband consoled the girls by reminding them that God cares for the sparrows. Therefore, you can assume that mockingbirds and birdbrains, alike, are safe in God's keeping.

Thistles and Thorns

In our quest for wild berries, we found some plump thistles and maybe six cups of dewberries. It was a dismal return, but we would have dreamed of bucketfuls if we hadn't seen this year's miserable vines for ourselves. At least, there are enough dewberries to top icecream tonight. That makes the trip berry good. (Excuse the pun. I wished to try the editing strike through.)

My Delights

Swing a little

Looking for Life in the Empty Tomb

Today I had the privilege to sit under a dynamic Easter message. It was so practical and insightful. How often I look for life in an empty tomb...whether it is the tomb of material possessions, acclaim, or achievements. As the angel said to those women years ago, "He is not here." Jesus, the Life, is not in the stuff of this world. I absurdly look for significant living in a tomb, a graveyard of everything that is temporal and reeking of death.

The angel went on to say that Jesus had gone ahead to Galilee and "there you will see him."

I was particularly struck by what the pastor said about Galilee. At the Sea of Galilee there was a huge storm that tested the disciples' faith regarding God's care for them and his ability to sustain them in their tiny boat thrown about by enormous waves. Pure and simple: It was a DANGEROUS PLACE. But that dangerous place is where they saw God. That is where they experienced him firsthand and where their faith was stretched and strengthened. In order for the disciples to see the risen Lord they had to go back to Galilee, the place where Jesus was resurrected over their problems.


Where is the Galilee in my life? Where is the place which makes me quiver in fear because the waters are sloshing over the sides of my boat? Where am I wholly dependant on God?

Those Galilee experiences will change me. I'll see his victory and it will still my quivering heart. I will see his nail-scarred hands, and I will know He is capable and willing to take on my present troubles. I won't wake up to go to the tombs, a life of disappointment and drudgery. Instead, I will go confidently to the next dangerous place, because there I will see Jesus.

He is risen! He is risen, Indeed!

The Magical World of Genies & a Lawn Elf

In our magical world the pool is always changing colors. Unfortunately it isn't sunset colors...it's green. Mustard algae is the bane of my existence. It is airborne and a windy day can reek havoc on the bluest water. I decided my pool is all boy, because every time I open its pockets (skimmer baskets) I find snakes, snails and broken egg shells. Fortunately I have been spared the puppy dog tails.











More magic. The world is moving so fast and she is standing still.




One of our lawn elves. He accepts cash, but no credit cards.

Overshadowed

I've always thought shadows seem forbidding and perhaps a little scary. But a wise man recently gave me a new appreciation for a life lived in the deepest, yet safest shadow.

Acts 2:15-16 " As a result, people brought the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and mats so that at least Peter's shadow might fall on some of them as he passed by. Crowds gathered also from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing their sick and those tormented by evil spirits, and all of them were healed."

It wasn't Peter's shadow that healed those gathered there that day. It was God's shadow over Peter that had the power. Peter was overshadowed by the Great Physician.

As the Psalmist cries out in chapter 63, "Because you are my help, I will sing in the SHADOW of your wings."

How I want to be that chick under God's wings...deep in the cool safety and life-protecting shadow. I want the shadow of my life to bring emotional and spiritual healing to those needy around me like Peter's did. To do that, I must be overshadowed. And I can't be overshadowed if I am out on my lonesome under the blazing sun. Grasping for God substitutes in a sun-scorched land is like seeking the shade of a thick tree, only to find a toothpick shadow. Instead God painted a picture of himself as a full-figured hen with wide wings and a loving disposition. He moves to meet us and isn't rooted like a tree. He longs to gather us snug against his soft feathers. As the Son/Sun of our universe, he is the ultimate Shadow Giver. He is Life. He is Hope. He is Sufficient for our every need. He is loving towards all he has made.

That's whose shadow I get to live under. Wowie.

For the Downton Abbey lovers

Have to watch this!

The Relocator that Cares

We came home to a foul smelling yard and thought there was a skunk dance party under the children's playhouse. Well, after baiting a trap with tuna fish, Dr. B caught the stinky culprit. This perfume-packing opossum was pint-sized compared to the one a few weeks ago, but its powerful odor prompted free relocation. I think if this keeps up I might just have to get an advertising magnet for Dr. B's truck. After all, the realtors have them. Why not drum up a side business as the most-trusted possum relocator in this county?