So true, but it happens far too often to be funny anymore. :)
Originally posted on The Mirror Obscura:
It’s funny how it can rain
When the sun is bright.
It’s funny how the thing you’re looking for
Is staring you in the face.
It’s funny how you mean things
Opposed to the way the words come out.
It’s funny how you can feel alone
In the middle of a crowd.
It’s funny how you can feel shut out
When all the doors are open.
Originally posted on The Mirror Obscura:
It’s what it is. It’s about yea long. It’s about this wide
It’s really nothing, nothing at all. It’s really something
It’s a shame. It’s a good day for it. It’s going to rain.
It’s a long walk. It’s a steep climb. It’s too bad.
It’s good. It’s too good. It’s too good to be true.
It’s been a long time. It’s been forever. It’s too short.
It’s going to need some work. It’s better. It’s perfect.
It’s better than perfect. It’s not here. It’s gone.
It’s going, going, gone! It’s something else.
It’s got to be here. It’s just got to be here. It’s okay.
It’s over there. It’s not okay. It’s a promise. It’s done.
It’s not done. It’s not done the way I want it done.
It’s going to start. It’s ending. It’s almost over
Artwork by, Scott Bergey
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This ended up in Drafts and should be read before Sunday Forgiveness. Connie
I don’t know how many of you take your faith seriously or simply save it for Sundays and religious holidays. As a Born-again Christian, I live my daily life as an example. Most of the time I don’t think about it–it’s automatic.
I’m normally courteous and polite which is no different than most anyone else. I’ll share my beliefs with others. That is where I get an edge on the pack, but again its no big deal. There’s very little about me that’s different from the average person.
Then the other side of me comes out. It’s hard to be sweet all the time, especially since being put on seizure medication. This is my third change and it’s no better than the others. They all come with anger issues.
Surprisingly, other so-called Christians are not as tolerant as one would expect. If I show any anger, suddenly I’m a terrible person. I’ve been told that I can’t be a Christian and act like that.
Why not? I’m not perfect. I face temptation, of one sort or another, daily. Most times, I tell Satan no thanks, but there are times my temper flares whether I want it to or not. I can feel part of me trying to tamp it down, but it still explodes. Maybe the explosion’s not as big as it could have been, but it seems horrific to me. I grew up with an angry mother and promised myself that I would never do that which is probably why Satan gets me with it.
Several weeks ago, the nursing home that my friends and I sang at asked us to come back. I was delighted. We’re three old ladies and not that great at singing–we’re good, but not a group someone would record for sales. April said we rated a 3. Hooray! What’s a 3? I have no clue. I never asked. We always had a roomful with occasionally family or staff sitting in.
I checked with my friends and they were willing to come back. I figured it would be better to check with Richard who was the head of OASIS, our seniors group at church which our singing group worked through.
I should give you a bit of history before going any further. Even before the fateful day, I did not like Richard and had little to do with him. I rarely attend the OASIS meetings because he’s the leader and they do a lot of things I can’t manage. He’s egotistical which is not very good for a Christian testimony, and we had already had a run-in when I asked him about crediting the OASIS club with the singing I was doing with three other non-church friends. However, my primary reason was because of a rude comment he made to my husband when he announced his acceptance of Christ and desire to become a member of the church many years ago. That’s a different story.
Now, back to this story. I approached Richard after service. My mood was good (not the greatest, but tolerable), but it didn’t take long for my devil to come out.
I told him we’d been asked to go back to the nursing home. He told me that he was arranging for a singing group to go around to all the nursing homes.
That was news to me. I may not have made the meetings, but usually someone let me know what was discussed. I asked him if that meant I could not go to the Manor Nursing Home (not the real name). He repeated the same thing about taking a group around.
I mentioned the reason I disbanded it and losing three friends over it. He simply said, “Oh, well.” That hurt. He didn’t care. My temper and my voice had been edging up, and I lost it at that point.
He told me I could do what I wanted. I told him, no, I couldn’t according to my Pastor. That was why I had to break up the group and lost my friends (these were different friends that did not go to my church). Another reason I disbanded, I couldn’t get anyone to play the piano for us. It’s not like we needed a lot–a couple times during the month and on the Sunday we sang.
I stormed off and I haven’t been back for a service. I did go to prayer meeting that following Wednesday since it’s just Dannie and I.
Last Sunday I visited another church. It was different in several ways. There was a lot of music and the pastor was lively and humorous while still getting the message across. He preached for an hour, but it didn’t seem that long.
I had been to this church a year or so ago for a ladies function and liked the people I met then. I had thought I might visit during a service, but never did, until last Sunday.
While it had a lot going for it, I doubt I’ll become a member there. It was constantly noisy. The music was far too loud for my comfort. Having the preacher’s mike up high wasn’t bad, but some of those music notes were painful.
The two biggest drawbacks: loud noise can send me into a seizure; stress causes my MG to flare up. I think my body was stressed by all the noise, because it got harder and harder to stand up. We stood up a lot, almost as much as the preacher! By the time the service was over, I was wobbly and needed a man to help me to my truck.
The one good thing I noticed the next day, my tinnitus had stopped. I think it was cancelled out by all that noise. It didn’t last long; a few hours later it was back with a vengeance.
The Wednesday I went to prayer meeting, I spent time talking to the Lord about my anger and the need to apologize to Richard. God will not forgive me as long as I’m unforgiving. Sunday will be here soon. I don’t want to go to church, but I have to deal with this. One minute, I’m willing to do right; the next minute, not so much.
It would be easy to post a Faith-Filled Friday blog and be done with it. That would not be fair to you who are reading this. You needed to know the battle I’m going through. I think my feelings would have come through no matter what I wrote.
At this point, I don’t know what my feelings are. I know I was wrong to get angry with Richard. He probably can’t help the way he is. As a Christian, I can love people through Christ even when I don’t particularly like them. Right now, I am willing to apologize, but I’m not sure how much I mean it.
Keep me in your prayers, and I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
I don’t know what happened with this post. I had checked drafts a week or two ago and this was not here at that time. I’m having trouble with the new changes for this blog site. If I decide to move, I’ll let y’all know. Connie
I let my husband decide what he wanted to eat for his day. He decided Dip for lunch and cod fish sandwiches for supper.
The Dip recipe is one he got from a friend of his years ago while we were living in Georgia. It has been a family favorite ever since. It’s super simple and super tasty–a great combination. There’s only 3 of us and we double the recipe. We’ll eat it all day long.
Somehow his choices don’t give him time to relax. He always makes the dip and fish sandwiches, so he’ll be cooking both meals. You know what? I did the same thing for Mother’s Day.
The Dip turned out especially good today. I didn’t know if it was because I was hungry since I hadn’t eaten yet, or the Taco Bell beans. I’ve used their Taco seasoning and liked it better than the old brand. When I saw the beans I decided to try them. They are available in fat-free and regular. My history with fat-free foods has not been great, so I opted for regular. To me, fat-free tastes greasy and has an off-taste. Taco Bell’s brand might be better, but I’m not taking any chances.
I told my husband that we should have Dip as a regular treat for every Father’s Day. Busy watching golf, he muttered, “I don’t know.”
My reply, “I think it’s appropriate to have Father’s Day as Dip Day.”
Makes a large amount
1 lb. gr. meat, cooked, seasoned and drained
1 lb. Cheddar cheese, grated/shredded
1 jar Picante sauce – heat of choice (we use medium heat with a bit extra of hot)
1 can refried beans
Tostitos chips or chip of your choice for dipping
Season and cook ground meat; drain well
Add beans and Picante sauce to pot and heat up.
Add cheese, stirring in to blend well
Add drained ground meat; stir and serve warm.
Tips: This recipe is easy to double, but we add only 1/2 jar more of sauce. You can adjust it to suit your taste.
It solidifies as it cools, but reheats nicely in microwave, thinning out in the process.
WARNING: habit forming
On Friday I talked with my best friend about what had happened with me and Richard. I had not brought it up earlier because I knew what she would say and I really did not want to hear it again. Sure enough, she told me exactly the same things I had been telling myself for almost two weeks. What surprised me was Dannie saying she thought I was mad at her. When I had been to the prayer meeting, she noticed a change in my attitude. I assured her if she had done anything to upset me, I would have said something. I also apologized to her for having that happen. If you knew Ms. Dannie, you would know she’s a lovely, sweet, humorous, eighty-six-year-old woman. A true delight to be around. I can’t think of anyway possible she has ever upset anyone in the years I’ve known her. She has known Christ as her Savior for many years and lives to please him.
I asked her to stand beside me when I talked to Richard. I wanted a witness, but also Dannie has a calming influence. I figured I needed that or I might blow up again. She agreed.
Sunday arrived and I was feeling terrible. I had eating too much salt over the past two days and was swollen from chest to feet. My chest was tight and I was short of breath, but I did not want to put this off any longer.
I arrived a few minutes late so I sat on a back pew with another friend, 3 rows behind Dannie which meant she probably thought I chickened out.
They selected some of my favorite hymns, but I could not sing well with being so short of breath. I got dizzy walking around greeting people, but I did get to say hello to Dannie so she knew I was there.
Richard was in the same aisle greeting folks that I was. When I saw him he was talking to a man in the last row. I got side-tracked with someone else and lost track of him.
He and his wife always sit left side, front. After the service, instead of getting in the line to welcome the new members, I walked up to talk to him.
Thankfully, the former assistant pastor was talking to him. He would be a good witness. I shook Richard’s hand and told him I was sorry for being so rude the last time we talked.
He said he did not see it that way. That surprised me, but his eyes truly looked honest with his reply. Immediately, I felt relief. I even chuckled at my own stupidity for letting this go on so long and thinking the worst.
While my mind wandered that brief moment, Richard added that he was still getting things together, but he had other places to use me.
Excuse me? Use me?
I almost lost it again. I sent a quick Lord, help. Yet, still blurted out, “I don’t want to be used.” He was talking about having other places except singing for me to do, and I doubt that he heard my remark.
I left, mumbling an okay. Richard is obtuse, I decided. You don’t use someone, or at least not me. I volunteer, donate, or offer my time, services or expertise.
The line for welcoming the new couple had dwindled down to a handful, so I headed to the end. They were standing fairly close to where Richard and I had been talking which made me wonder how much they overheard. Great way to start off in a new church.
I know he did not mean any ridicule by that use word. I’ve probably done the same thing myself. At least, I can laugh about it and I’m not upset with it. I am curious to see what he has to offer in the way of using me.
What I learned from this: don’t stew over things; clear the air as soon as possible. Do not let my feelings carry over to others. The most important thing is that if I expect people to be patient with me, then I need to be patient with them, even the obtuse ones.
I was glad to come across these. This is like a foreign language to me.
Originally posted on Writers In The Storm Blog:
by Chuck Sambuchino
Because it’s healthy for writers of all levels to be familiar with terms they may come across in articles, conversations and contracts, here are some literary terms defined for your enjoyment.
Boiler plate contract (also known as a “standard contract”) – (n.) This term usually refers to an agreed starting contract between a literary agent and publisher. If Agent X sells a book to Putnam, for example, their next deal with Putnam will likely have the same royalty rates and subright splits as the first deal.
Denouement – (n.) French for an untying. The denouement of a novel or story follows the climax; it represents the unraveling pf the complexities of a plot, and the clarifying of the story’s details and misunderstandings.
Galley – (n.) A bound…
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Interesting, but how does the food really taste?
Originally posted on Future Growing LLC:
Our mission at Future Growing® is to inspire healthy and sustainable living around the world, by empowering people with the technology and training to do so. We have been on this journey for almost a decade, with over 100 successful projects across North America.
The local, grass roots urban food movement has given us the opportunity to meet some truly extraordinary people along the way, and the urban farmer we’ve featured this week is no exception. She is not only a first-class producer of premium produce, but has been instrumental in transforming the quality and standards for the locally grown food market in Central Florida.
I met Katherine Grandey, co-founder and owner of “The GreenHouse”, in Orlando, Fla., three years ago. Even though she was a highly-educated professional with a career and a young family, she wanted…
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