Skip to main content

A hodge podge of thoughts

Proud man says, "Where is God? What God? There is no God!"

Humble man says, "What is man that You, O God, are mindful of him? And the children of men that you visit them?"

We are so proud.  We think we're so big and smart and the center of the universe.  We think we know it all and if there is anything we don't know we'll explain it when we figure it out.

I like Bill Nye the Science Guy.  But he's a guy.  He's not God.  He's not all knowing.  He's not got the universe figured out.  Yet he says this with such faith.  And that's just it, it's faith.  He builds on what he believes is the unseen foundation of all we see.  He believes the foundation is random, purposeless, meaningless, chance, and change.

At least this lady and this guy are willing to say, "Hey, we don't know everything, but we have faith in the One who does and we choose to believe in the elevating perspective of a Creator creating His creation."  They also build on a foundation they can't see.  Their foundation, and mine, is a loving Creator Who created me for a purpose and the trees for a purpose... and the sun... and the dog... and the humming bird, etc. 

Other tid bits:

I've been working on reading Robinson Crusoe.  It's a very interesting read so far.  I am literary-classics illiterate.  I was supposed to read those in high school.  I didn't.  I skimmed by.  I finished my senior year taking classes at a community college and finally started learning something.  So I'm a little late, but sophomore reading for Mrs. Spicer's class here I come!

I'm 38 and I'm already starting to lament the "good ole days."  Well, not really, there were no good ole days in the 80's for me.  I guess its a matter of standards.

It seems to me personal responsibility is becoming as rare as a man opening the car door for his wife or sitting together at the dinner table as a family.  To suggest personal responsibility is to suggest one take on Mount Everest.  "I can't do that!  You do it for me!"  That's basically what I was told today when I "suggested" (told) a parent that their child was being excluded from school for not supplying the school with state-law-required immunization records.  A two week notice had been given, before that another two-week notice.  A grace period of the entire first quarter was given.  One would think that would be plenty of opportunity to work with to get the required document.  But I was told, "You do it."  "You find a way to get the record... I don't have time."  Wow!  Very sad.

I screwed up this past two weeks.  I was supposed to return a purchase order card I had checked out from the district office before fall break within 48 hours of borrowing it.  It wasn't until I pulled my driver's licence out before boarding a plan to Oregon this past week that I realized I had forgotten to return the card.  When I got back to work yesterday I returned it to the district with my apologies and admission that I had no excuse.  I forgot.  I fully expected some kind of reprimand.  I got none.  I still expect it.  It's my responsibility, I didn't do what I was supposed to do.  That's so freeing.  It's so freeing to confess, accept responsibility and move on.  Letting a bunch of responsibilities go unfulfilled while making a bunch of excuses as to why one can't fulfill their responsibilities and pushing off the responsibility onto someone else is bondage!



Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

post anesthesia thoughts

(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)
I'm not going to over think this post too much.  I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet.  Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.
In the past few weeks I've been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc.  In one of those I was admonished to write something daily.  Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem... something.  Because writers don't just think about writing, they write.  I think my pastor said or wrote that once too.  It struck me then, and when I read this lady's article.  I am a writer.  Not a known writer.  Not the best writer.  But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I'm writing.  But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there.  And then I don&#…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…