Zealous Fellas

Posted on by

In the aftermath of the Oklahoma tornadoes most of us are quick to find, and sometimes even get stuck in, the miry heaps of unimaginable loss, grief, and pain. And for someone like me, an outsider to this sorta up-close devastation, I sorta feel overwhelmed, under-qualified, and/or  just plain ole confused about how to assist those in need.

.

This Tuesday, just on the heals of Oklahoma’s utter devastation, I was pulling weeds at a local farm with a young lady whom I’d been getting to know over the last few weeks. Anyway, her cell phone beeped-tooted-honked to let her know that she had a message comin’ through. Her older brother had texted her from a few hundred miles away, and across state lines, with some news. She stood up, read the message, gasped aloud, and immediately dialed his number. As she talked, I admit that despite my professional weed-pulling etiquette, I overheard bits of the conversation as I made  my way farther down the row. These are some of the snippets that I heard…

.

“Matthew, what are you doing?”

.

“Yes, I’m sure God uses caffeine too.”

.

“When do you leave?”

.

“Okay. Love you, bro.”

.

She hung up, sighed long, and then told me that her brother, a young man whom I’ve met a few times through the farm family, had a whiz-bang-buckaroo! moment earlier that morning. Apparently, both a jolting cuppa caffeine and a convicting Holy Spirit were involved in this plan. Indeed, chaotic events such as this always demand fervent prayer, just as I had been praying in the weeds that morning; but, in addition to bowed heads and surrendered hearts, we also need to be ready for the very times when God desires for us to put our Jesus skin on and drive His love cross-country in a caravan of pick-ups ‘n trailers loaded with supplies and zealous young fellas.

.

So, as the day wore on, mister Matthew rallied the church and troops, including another young man, Caleb, (his 15-year old cousin), whom I had worked side-by-side with last summer. By the end of the day it was decided that they would load ‘em up, drive on out, and shine a bit of God’s light onto this here fallen earth.

.

Once their feet hit Oklahoma soil sometime this Sunday, I reckon all those young men will lace their boots, pull on their leather gloves, and help strangers dig through the dirty debris of despair. I betcha that as these zealous fellas work themselves beyond exhaustion each day, they also will shine His light into the dark places of devastation.

.

Walkin’ the talk.

Livin’ the Truth.

Bringin’ the Word to life.

.

In the right here. In the right now.

.SD W dirty legs

I dare ya to look around your community, either in your real life arenas, or out here in CyberLand, and I am sure you also will find such people, but if’n ya don’t and you need to know specific names to offer up in prayer, and/or if you want to donate money, but don’t know where or how to do so, I know a couple o’ fellas that could use your support.

..

.

For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men, 

teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts,

we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age, 

looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing

of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave Himself

for us, that He might redeem us from every lawless deed

and purify for Himself His own special people,

zealous for good works.

.

Here is the church’s link so you can donate financially.

.

Here is a television interview… mister Matthew is the apparent bald-headed fella near the end of the clip.

.

* I hope to do a follow-up story (or two) with interviews of these two young men, but until then, I thank you kindly to add them to your prayers. And I humbly hat-tip ‘n head-nod ya if you are able to financially contribute to their trip.

.

Buckaroos, now you’ve got no reason to feel overwhelmed, under-qualified, or at a loss of how to give…

.

.

Where Hard Work Reigned & Love Lived

Posted on by

I had a crapTastic writerly day yesterday and I was as close as a frog’s fine little chin hair to sending all my writerly escapades on a turd-swirl, sewer tank trip down the porcelain pot. Folks, I even cried about it, and that just ain’t like me.

.

Then, in my morning devotional time today, God brought to mind some Truths in the book of Galatians. He reminded me that in whatever I do, the Holy Spirit is with me as a guide, a counselor, and a friend; that I don’t have to look and say and do things like everyone else; that I am the me that God created me to be (I know, a little cheesy, but it’s true.) Anyway, I also was reminded that in whatever I do, I do it for Him, and that as sure as shootin’ applies when I put ink to paper in my private journal and for my blog/book/article pieces.

.

For me, writing has always been a means to untangle my heartstrings, make clear the cloudy, and now as a child of God, it’s a means to share the history of me and to encourage others by sharing how God encourages me. 

..

 

Galatians 5:22-26

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness,goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.  If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another.

.

Galatians 6:3-4

For if anyone thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.  But let each one examine his own work, and then he will have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another.

..

 

He also reminded me that:

I don’t have to be perfect

in order to share His perfect love.

<—- And that bit, right back & up there, is the most important take-away for me today.

..

 

So, this morning after some wrastling and clarification time with the Lord, I chipped away at the writer’s block, and I penned a letter to my long-passed grandpa. And this here is only part of the five pages I wrote:

.

.

 

.

hi-ho silver bw ”I wanted to lean against the green fridge in the kitchen and listen you snored like a freight train as you napped in the living room. I wanted to fry eggs and hash browns and pork chops, to slather toast with strawberry jam, and to percolate coffee in that silver kettle… I wanted to soak in that cast iron bathtub and wonder why, in all those years, you never saw fit to attach a shower head to the faucet. I wanted to rest my head against your bed and hold my hand over yours while you slept in the room that always smelled of aftershave, boot leather, and fresh-cut hay.

.

And if I had the past to do over again, I would have lived with, cared for, and loved you in the very same house, where as a young girlChild, the smell of Shake-n-Bake chicken clung to the kitchen curtains as they billowed about whilst I cranked the windows shut during Montana summertime thunderstorms. The very same place where hard work reigned, good food covered the table, and love lived.”

.

..

.

 

Prepared (or not)

Posted on by

* scenario 1:

Joe slammed the door shut while Sally stood at the sink and tried not to cry. She swiped at her eyes and watched the truck’s rear lights as they bobbed red down the dirt road and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Joe had a one-hour drive from their rural home to work and Sally hoped he’d call and set things straight before he got there. He never did, but she always hoped. Dawn hadn’t even broke forth yet and they were at it again. What happened to us? Why can’t we even talk without arguing? And why can’t he understand that I’m just worried about my doctor appointment and want him there with me when I see the specialist?

.

Later that day she sat on the couch with their daughter, Emily, and read “Goodnight Moon” for the fourth time straight. With bleary eyes and waning energy, Sally finished reading the story to her four-year-old daughter and then poured herself another cup of coffee. That’s weird, the coffee pot doesn’t feel hot. Sally pressed the red button. Nothing happened. Oh great, it’s broke. We can’t afford a new one right now. How am I going to make Joe’s coffee in the morning?

.

“Mommy, let’s listen to some music and dance like princesses, okay? Can we, can we, mommy?”

.

Sally nodded her head and Emily ran to her room to get her princess dress and shoes. “Mommy, the light is all broken. I can’t make the dark go away in my closet so’s I can find my princess stuff! Mommy!”

.

At the same time, Sally tried to open the CD player on the stereo but the little metal flap wouldn’t open. She pressed the power button but nothing happened.

.

“Hey, Emily, I think the power is off. Use your little pink flashlight to find your princess stuff, okay?” Ah, that’s why the coffee pot didn’t work, the power is off. This is sorta weird because all we have is fog today, after a slight drizzle yesterday, but there’s no storm; it must be damage from last night’s thunder and lightning. I bet a branch broke loose and it just now fell across a powerline down the road.

.

Sally picked up the landline telephone to report the outage, but there was no dial tone. She dug her cell phone outta her purse and tried it, but it didn’t work either. She tried to swallow the bitter taste of panic that rose in her throat. Is this what my friend Jennifer was talking about? Some sort of attack where all electric things are fried? What’d she say? Oh yeah, cars wouldn’t work either, least not ones made after the 1980′s or something.

.

“Emily, did you find your princess stuff?”

.

“Yes, mommy! Oh, this is fun. Look at how my flashlight glows. Hey, where are you going?”
.

“You come watch from the porch, I’m going to grab something out of the car and check the radio out there.”

.

Oh how she loved living in the country. Even though both she and her sister were raised on a farm, Sally had no idea how her sister could be so opposite and actually thrive at her life in the middle of the bright lights and big city. The peace and quiet and constant array of wildlife gave Sally reassurance as she walked to the car. She turned the key and nothing happened. She tried again. And again. Still, nothing. From the back of the car, Sally grabbed the dog food bag that she’d forgotten to take inside yesterday. She wrangled the 20-pound sack to her hip and slammed the back hatch door shut, herded her daughter through the door, and then put the dog food in the utility room. Sally then searched high and low for that wacky emergency preparedness book that her sister, Alexa, had given her for Christmas.

.

,IMG_4591 pixlr.

.* scenario 2:

Someone rammed into her side with their shopping cart just as the store’s lights flickered and went out, leaving the customers and employees in complete darkness. Huh, this isn’t right, their back-up generator didn’t even kick on; it’s pitch black and the exit signs aren’t even glowing.

.

Alexa pulled her SureFire light out of her cargo pants pocket, depressed the tactical end button twice and pushed hard to secure it in a low lumen setting. She shined it onto the offender, careful not to startle him by shining it in his face. The man that she saw at the helm of the careening cart wore khaki slacks, shiny leather shoes, an ironed button-up shirt, and a contrasting tie. “Uh, sorry I ran into you, miss. I was looking at my iPhone and pushing my cart and then the power flicked off. I was distracted,” he said.

.

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt or anything. Hey, does your iPhone still have service?”

.

“Um. Nope. That’s weird. I know it was fully charged. Now I’m going to have to buy the brand of diapers I think my wife uses for our baby – and you can be sure I won’t end up with the ones she actually uses. My bad. This will probably mean trouble at the ole homestead tonight!”

.

“Uh-huh,” Alexa said as she pulled out her cell phone. With a quick flip she determined that it didn’t work either. “Okay, you have a nice afternoon. And sir, be careful today. I’m not saying I know what any of this means, but if you go outside and find that the world is upside-down, don’t panic. Do the thing that needs doing in that moment, okay?
.

“Whaddaya mean? Upside-down? What’s going on here? Do you know something?”

.

“I’m not sure, but if all devices that run via computer don’t work, that means that something has damaged the power-grid system. The entire system.”

.

“And?”

.

“And, welcome to the 18th century, but actually in the 21st century. Electricity, cars, communication, you name it, they’re not gonna work. It won’t be pretty and folks are gonna lose it right quick. Impatience and panic are gonna collide.”

.

“But how are people going to get home? What about their families?”

.

“Mister, the best tool for survivability is the one right here,” Alexa said as she pointed to her baseball capped head. “You look like a smart man – just use what the good Lord gave ya, right there between the ole ears.”

.

Since her phone was useless, she slipped it into her back pocket, pulled the Velcro tab through the loop, and secured it shut. With discreet motions, she checked the placement of her concealed double mag-pouch, fingered the grip of her also-hidden Kimber 1911 pistol, and unzipped her cover jacket. She wanted to be ready for whatever the rest of the day brought. Before Alexa made her way through the darkened store to one of the registers, she grabbed four chocolate candy bars, a large package of beef jerky, and when she searched the shelves, she found a lone box of .45 ammo at the very back, behind some .22 shells. She walked to the front, put all of it on the counter where the clerk shined his plastic flashlight on her face and then on the pile. He shook his head back and forth as he said, “Ma’am, the registers are down, I cannot get you a total. Plus, if I could, you’d have to pay the exact amount. In cash.”

.

Alexa pulled a fifty out of her pants pocket and in a quick, discreet motions, she reached under her shirt and pulled another out of her bra. “Here, this will more than cover it. And you better just keep the change for yourself.” Alexa showed him the corner of the extra fifty and said, “Oh, and since all the front doors probably are triggered to lock in a power failure, this is yours if you can show me a back way out of here.”

.

He bit his lower lip and smiled. “Oh, yes ma’am, I understand what it means when you say your blood sugar is low. Come with me to the break room and let’s get you some orange juice; we can’t have you passing out on us,” the young man said in a loud voice as he scooted out from behind the counter. Once beside her, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Follow me.”

.

Although the noontime sunlight was bright, Alexa was glad to be out of the confusion and darkness of the store. Sure enough, everywhere she looked she saw open hoods on cars and trucks; she watched for a moment as people bent over  their now-defunct engines. A lone sound broke the eery silence as an old guy whirred across the parking lot on a junky looking motorcycle. His grin stretched ear to ear and a braided, gray ponytail hung low from beneath a faded do-rag. Alexa walked to her pickup, unlocked the canopy, and pulled two things out: her mountain bike, complete with its puncture-resistant Specialized Armadillo tires; and her three-day emergency bug-out bag. She stuffed her new purchases in different pockets, and once the backpack was steadied on the lowered tailgate, she backed up to it, slipped her arms in, and connected all the clasps around her waist and across her chest.

.

After Alexa fastened her helmet, she fingered the cross around her neck and prayed for strength, wisdom, guidance, and courage. The front doors of the store were now propped open with garbage cans, and as she pedaled out of the parking lot, she saw the man in khaki pants. He had three packages of diapers under one arm, a large first aid kit under the other, and he wore a new pair of hiking boots.

.

.

~~~~~~~

.

Zam!

Bam!

Smack!

Some emergency has landed in your lap, be it natural-made (like an earthquake, tornado or flood) or man-made (like an enemy attack, a widespread power outage, or even a further-failed economy). We’ve all seen the disparity between those who prepare for potential hazards and those who do not give a wild wink-nod-blink about it. 

.

How can -

How will -

How must -

you prepare to help your own self, your children, your spouse, your elderly parents, your co-workers, your friends, and your neighbors if the puddin’ gets flung into the proverbial fan? And from what sort of mindset shall you proceed? That there is the only answer I know for sure and for certain:

The Lord is my Light

and my Salvation;

whom shall I fear?

~ Psalm 27:1

.

~~~~~~~

.

.

.

* Lately I’ve been struggling with my non-fiction piece of writerly-ness; so, as a change-up, I wrote that bit of fiction up yonder. Maybe I’ll continue the story out here in Blogland every so often… Is it something you’d wanna read?

.

.

.

And a Side O’ Fries

Posted on by

I have a thing about germs and door handles so I try to push open the brown glass door with my rump, but it won’t budge. I swing hard and heave-ho my hip into the door time and again before I notice a flash of red-checkered flannel on the other side. My son tugs on my sleeve and says, “Mom, those men want out and you keep pushing the door in.”

.

Ga-reat. I shove my sunglasses to the top of my head, gallantly step aside, and flip my outstretched hand in a motion for them to pass through. They don’t. The old-timer among them opens the door, touches his hat rim, and says, “Mornin’ ma’am.” He stands there, his arms wide and body outstretched at an odd angle whilst he holds the door open from the inside. I feel as if I am stepping into a hug as I pass close enough to smell his aftershave.

.

Two men, several years my junior, also were trapped with him in the foyer and they grin-nod at me as I push my son ahead, right into their midst. One of the fellas stuffs his lip pocket with a wad of chew and the other tries real hard not to laugh. His snickers finally give way and laughter trails us all the way to the counter.

.

Grandma Jo, according to her name tag, wears a hairnet and false fingernails. She stands with a slouch and fiddles with a glittery pink heart necklace. It looks like candy against her wrinkled neck. “Whaddaya want honey?”

.

“We’ll take a glass of orange juice, one of apple juice, and an order of thick-cut, waffle fries. And hold the sauce, please.” My son nods in happy agreement.

.

Except for the outer façade and the painted-over neon sign, this repurposed, rural restaurant has been turned into something more fanciful than the standard fast food chain that is depicted by the hard-to-cover yellow hues. Real plates and glasses replace styrofoam and paper, and actual-factual servers bring food and beverages to the tables. After the meal, patrons stack their own dirty dishes inside labeled plastic bins on a cart between the counter and trash can. Locals are used to the set-up and today’s big draw is the inclusion of a breakfast menu and earlier start-up hours.

.

I reckon the introduction of the morning menu was timed to coincide with the opening of fishing season. Yep, I reckon so.

.

Around here, lesser streams trickle down from the many mountains, the Columbia River snakes along the edge of town, and its vast waters pool into Lake Roosevelt. All in all, fishermen rule. And it’s not unlike the community where I grew-up, just over the mountain range and across the state line.

.

We slide across shiny red bench seats, I sanitize my hands, and look around. In the booth behind me four men-folk eat their breakfast and I see that the shortest one wears a grin big enough to park his daddy’s truck in. Once our waffle fries arrive, we squirt globs of mustard on the platter edge, pray, and start dippin’-n-eatin’ our catch. We don’t talk. Our mouths are too full for that, but we listen.

.

“Nope, no. I just don’t think we’ll see him today.”

.

“See who? See who? Daddy, see who?”

.

“You’re right. He never comes out this early in the season.”

.

“Yeah, hardly anyone ever sees him the first week.”

.

“You got that right. Well, except for old man Stevie. That dern fool swears he seen him already. And that he’s been feeding him at the dock every morning.”

.

“Stevie who? Stevie who? Hey, who does Stevie feed?”

.

“Oh, it’s just them spicy Rueben sandwiches and that half rack of beer that he’s seeing.”

.

“I reckon you’re right about that.”

.

“And what kind of fish eats corn chips anyway?”

.

“We can feed corn chips to fish? Hey, daddy, got any corn chips?”

.

“Nope, I don’t think we’ll see him today. It’s too early in the season and too late in the day.”

.

“Hey, a guy can hope. Maybe we’ll see just his tail –  if we’re lucky.”

.

“Are you girls about ready? We don’t wanna be the last boat on the lake.”

.

“Hey, we’re not girls! And whose tail are we gonna see anyways? Daddy, are you listening to me?”

.

Three grown men and one boy, probably about five years old, climb out of the booth. I swivel on the vinyl seat and get a better view. The boy riddles his elders with questions and the whole lot of ‘em make their way out the first set of doors. The little one hops with newbie fisherman electricity. Just before the inner doors close on the group, the white-haired man bends low and speaks into the boy’s ear.

.

“No way! A real merman?! In my lake?! He squeals loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.

.

The old man nods and scratches his head. He comes back to their booth, grabs his camouflage ball cap from the bench, and winks at me as he says, “Honey, there’s always a learning curve in knowing when to push open the door.”

.

I wipe salt off my lips, say “you betcha,” and let myself believe he’s talking about the doors of my imagination.

.

As my son and I watch the fishing crew pile into a gray Dodge Cummins diesel, a much newer model than our own, he leans across the table and whispers, “Hey mom, what’s a merman?”

merman w.

* The above actual-factual piece of fiction first appeared on the interwebs last June when I wrote it and posted it on this here blog site of mine. I hope you at least smiled… and just maybe, for a minute or two, thought it was really real. ‘Cause it coulda be, ya know.

.

Root Removal System

Posted on by

ax saw rt2


There was was a man, worthy, smart, and good. He went to college, married (a super-duper fantastical gal), and almost ten years after their nuptials, they gave their lives to the Lord of lords, and a few months later, they had a baby boy.

ax saw rt

Like most kids, that boy grew faster than a weed. As the man learned what it means in God’s eyes to provide & lead, he realized that money is not, will not, and can not ever, never be the basis for all that he does and is — as a husband, a father, and a child of God.

ax saw rt4

When the kid turned five years old, the man’s (and the woman’s and their son’s) world turned upside down. The mill cut back; jobs were hacked, and even salaried folks with degrees, found themselves in a squeeze-chute bind.

ax saw rt5

This man took a new job offered – and what a sweet deal it seemed. Many, many hours, days, nights, and weeks away from home may have padded the pockets, but it’s not the stuff that families are made of. God pushed, pulled, led, guided, strengthened, chiseled the tall man and his clan; and, in doing so, He removed all the fluff and stuff.  When another opportunity came up, thankfully God had already showed him the location of his treasures. Christ. Wife. Son. None of those three could be and/or would be bought with greenbacks or big ole pots of gold.

ax saw rt3

There still is a man, worthy, smart, and good — but now he and his family are less one rotten root of ruin. He took the lesser paying job and is all the richer for it.

.

.

To most outsiders, I reckon it appears that over the last four years my family has traded down. That’s understandable. I mean really, if one looks upon me and mine from a worldly point of view, we have. We live a simple, basic, rustic life, free of the frivolous. And that man? Yes, he traded way down in his pay scale, but I reckon he now stands taller in the eyes of God.

.

So, do ya wanna little lesson in rotten stump removal? Righto, buckaroos, pay attention:

1. Dig all manner of dirt and earthly debris away from stump vicinity.

2. Give the kiddo an ax and let him whack at it for a bit… (What? An ax to a kid? Oh yes ma’am, yes sir. Teach your kiddo(s) the value of hard work as ya share the sweet scent of sweat. [The family that sweats together, stinks together... 'cause there ain't nobody else who wants to hang around with them.] 

3. When little to no progress has been made with shovels, an ax, a saws all, and three broken blades, bring on the tractor and just get ‘er done… ’cause it’s getting dark, mama’s got dinner on the table, and you boys have been playing in the dirt far too long.

.

.

But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and harmful lusts which drown men in destruction and perdition.  For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

But you, O man of God, flee these things and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, gentleness.Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, to which you were also called and have confessed the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. (1Timothy 6:10-12)

.

For wisdom is a defense as money is a defense,
But the excellence of knowledge is that wisdom gives life to those who have it. (Ecclesiastes 7:12)

.

And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ. (Colossians 3:23-24)

.

.

More Real and Desired

Posted on by

“He traced a line in the dirt with his toe. ‘This is a battlefield. Has been since Cain killed Abel. And don’t let it get complicated. Gray it ain’t. It’s black and white. Good versus evil. You might as well choose sides right now.’”

storm

“Because of the war, he explained, they could see things as they truly are. The promise of Christ is therefore all the more real and desired.”

..

.

~~~~~~~

How then shall we live

this day

so friends,

family, and

strangers

alike

may see God’s

forever enduring

shining light? And

turn to Him

for attainable,

unearned

eternal

life?

Love

your neighbor

better 

or even

more. As a

Believer you shall

give as you received -

with grace

mercy

love

do

extend a hug

or make a gift

of a good deed 

done

in 

secret. And for

those whom you cannot

touch

cannot see -

simply

take to bended knee…

so the promise of Christ

is therefore all

the more real

and

desired.

~~~~~~~

.

 

..

1. Where will you spend eternity?

2. How do you know for certain?

3. If heaven is your destination, how will you get there?

4. If you don’t know the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, but ya wanna, leave a note below.

.

.

1 Corinthians 2:9

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard…

the things which God has prepared

for those who love Him.”

.

.

.

(1) 1st quote: Charles Martin. Thunder and Rain. New York: Hatchette Book Group. 2012

(2) 2nd quote: Eric Metaxas. Bonhoeffer. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. 2010

(poem & image by SimplyDarlene)

.

.

 

Look Here, Daughter

Posted on by

Dear Sister, Mother, Aunt, Cousin, Niece, Daughter, Friend -

.

You need to remember and hold tight to the Truth while ya cast devil-dealt despicable lies far, far aside. Yeah, I know it’s easier to do when things are good, but you also have gotta do it when things are bad too. 

 .

Know this, you are a daughter of the King of kings! You were known and loved before you were even born. As a child of God, your worth is in Him – not, not ever, is your worth in how others feel about you, what they say, or how they act. No ma’am, all that jive is about them; them, alone. You are precious in His sight and held tight in His heart. Always and forevermore.

.

Please also remember that your sins have been removed from you as far as the east is from the west – and you alone are responsible for your actions and words, not the words and actions of others. Just yours. Also, and this is a biggie, no matter what stinkin’ thinkin’ seeps from head to heart, know that you are more than good enough.

.

Remember that King? He thinks you are precious. And He never, not ever, makes mistakes.

.

What’s that? You’ve got some junk in the trunk? That’s all right, miss. Go on, show Him your wounds because He’ll bind ‘em and set you right. He’s also gonna hold your hand whenever you feel forsaken and dejected. Even though that nasty enemy roams constant on this here earth, your heart and soul are safe with Jesus.

..

girlfaceSDDon’t you ever cast your eyes down. Don’t allow lies and deceit to win. Instead, look unto Him and know, know it with all of your heart,

.

you are loved beyond measure

by the only One whose opinion really matters.

.

Love,

The Holy Spirit

.

.

 

.

.And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever—the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. ~ John 14:16-17 (NKJV)

 

.

“Nevertheless I tell you the truth. It is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send Him to you. And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: of sin, because they do not believe in Me; of righteousness, because I go to My Father and you see Me no more; of judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged.

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you. ~ John 16:7-14 (NKJV)

.

Lord, how they have increased who trouble me!
Many are they who rise up against me.
Many are they who say of me,
“There is no help for him in God.” 

But You, O Lord, are a shield for me,
My glory and the One who lifts up my head.
I cried to the Lord with my voice,
And He heard me from His holy hill.

~ Psalm 3:1-4 (NKJV)

.

.

.

Moonsets & Such

Posted on by

Look at this moonset image that I captured last week. Isn’t it grand?

moonset2sd

.

I don’t have much to say today as my mind and heart are all a-jumble , what with our nation’s leaders seemingly delivering our country to the manure heap with further mockery of Biblical Truths and their continual shred-like infringements of our Constitutional rights. Boy-howdy, by most all accounts it sure seems that morality and common sense are endangered species in the good ole US of A.

.

Too bad. So sad.

.

Buckaroos, whatever gets shoved down, barfed back up, trampled on, poked (as if with a sharp stick in the eye), punched out, stripped away, or demeaned, I know one thing, okay, maybe I know two or three things, but the thing that I know for sure and for certain is this:

.

There ain’t nobody, no way, no how

gonna touch my God, the Creator of the Universe.

Take a good look at what He does —  

 just to remind you and me 

Who is really in charge ’round here.

.

Mister yeller orb moon don’t hang in morning’s sky or slip behind the mountain all by his lonesome. And miss sun sure as shootin’ don’t rise just because I’ve opened my sleepy-head eyes and fixed me some coffee. No sir, no ma’am.

.

God.

.

He done it. And He’s got the whole world in His hands. daaa-da-da-daaa-da… He’s got the whole world in His hands.

.

.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 97 other followers