They’re heee-ere. Yep, the ants are back. They’re trying to take up residence on my kitchen window sill this year, huddling under my three little African violet plants. Not gonna happen. So our annual battle of wits has begun.

Last year, they discovered our Bunn coffeemaker with the heated reservoir, and carried all their eggs in to pile them underneath. Twice! Still gives me the heebie-jeebies to think about that nauseating discovery.

Did you know:

That it has been estimated an ant's brain may have the same processing power as a Macintosh II computer.

That both ants and humans share these endeavors-

LIVESTOCK FARMING
herd aphids & "milk" them for nectar-like food

CULTIVATION
growing underground gardens for food

CHILDCARE
feeding young & providing intensive nursery care

EDUCATION
teaching younger ants the tricks of the trade

CLIMATE CONTROL
maintaining a strict 77o F. for developing ants

CAREER SPECIALIZATION
changing & learning new careers

CIVIC DUTIES
responding with massive group projects

ARMED FORCES
raising an army of specialized soldier ants

SECURITY
warding off other ants, insects, and animals

EARTH MOVERS
move at least as much soil as earthworms

SOCIAL PLANNING
maintain ratio of workers, soldiers, & reproductives

ENGINEERING
tunnel from 2 directions & meet exactly midway

COMMUNICATIONS
complex tactile, chemical communication system

FLOOD CONTROL
incorporate water traps to keep out rain

LIMITED FREE WILL
inter-relationships more symbiotic than coercive

Wow, aren’t God’s creatures the most incredible, complex living things when you take time to consider? Still, in our house, the only good ant is a dead ant. Tomorrow I'll reluctantly pick up some boric acid (I hate using pesticides), and then it’s “Sayonara, suckers!”

posted by Joye @ 2:38 PM 3 comments

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Tornadic Activity

First thing I did when I arose this morning was empty out the bathtub. I emptied it of a pillow, a blanket, a flashlight and batteries, my cell phone, my bible, a bag of books, my MP3, a couch cushion…

When the pretty, red-haired meteorologist on the news pointed to the big red spot over Denton on her weather map last night, I packed my bathtub like packing a suitcase for a long trip—everything I might need if I was away from home. Everything but my toothbrush, I forgot that. Even though I’ve never been in a direct tornado hit, I’ve been close enough to feel the need for preparedness.

– When I was a high school student in Houston, I stood in front of my school and watched a tornado touch down right across the street into my own neighborhood. In the most surreal moment, it quietly reached its skinny tentacle down, stirred a few houses around until well-blended, and then drew back and disappeared.

– As a kid visiting relatives in northeastern Oklahoma, we hid in a “fraidy hole” one night as a tornado swept over a friend’s ancestral farm. Huddled tightly together were the friend’s parents, her mother softly singing church hymns as the roar of the tornado could be heard above our heads; some young farmhands who’d been baling hay when the storm hit, and who barely made it in; my same-age aunt and me. The fear was palpable. When it was all over, the farmhouse still stood. But debris was scattered everywhere around it. The hay bales were thrown hither and yon. (We found one with a dead snake hanging out of it. The force of the tornado had stabbed it like a spike halfway into the bale.)

– We lived in Edmond, Oklahoma in 1986 when a tornado destroyed 45 homes and injured 12 people only a few miles from our home. We stationed a mattress in the bathroom and paced the floors (well, Mike didn’t, but the kids and I did) and convinced the elderly Mrs. Trotter next door to come take shelter with us.

Scene One: 1974. It’s early evening. Newlyweds Mike and I are living in Fort Smith, Arkansas where tornadic activity is the norm every spring. A nasty storm moves in over the city. The sky is pitch black and the air as still as death. I’m anxiously treading a path on the wood floor, occasionally peering out the front door to check the sky. Mike calmly tells me to read Psalm 91 so I do. It helps somewhat, but I’m a newbie Christian and haven’t learned to trust God. I’m afraid. Freeze frame and cut to…

Scene Two: 2006. It’s night. Mike’s out of town. Late night programming is pre-empted by the local news stations to track the storms moving through the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Who cares? Where’s Letterman? I pack my bathtub, making sure I have batteries for the flashlight, a book to read, some music. I go to bed with the TV on in case they want to sound an alarm and tell me to get in the tub. But I doubt they will. I don’t have to look up Psalm 91. I go to sleep.

The accompanying picture of the tornado behind the rainbow says it all. What a great illustration of God’s presence in the midst of storms! 2 Corinthians 1:20 says, “For as many as are the promises of God, in Him they are yes; therefore also through Him is our Amen to the glory of God through us.” God’s promises are trustworthy. He is consistent. And I can count on Him to walk with me through the storms.

posted by Joye @ 11:54 AM 3 comments

Thursday, April 27, 2006

fellowship:

(1.) With God, consisting in the knowledge of his will (Job 22:21; John 17:3);agreement with his designs (Amos 3:2); mutual affection (Rom. 8: 38, 39);enjoyment of his presence (Ps. 4:6); conformity to his image (1 John 2:6; 1:6);and participation of his felicity (1 John 1:3, 4; Eph. 3:14-21).

(2.) Of saints with one another, in duties (Rom. 12:5; 1 Cor. 12:1; 1 Thess. 5:17, 18); in ordinances (Heb. 10:25; Acts 2:46); in grace, love, joy, etc. (Mal. 3:16; 2Cor. 8:4); mutual interest, spiritual and temporal (Rom. 12:4, 13; Heb. 13:16);in sufferings (Rom. 15:1, 2; Gal. 6:1, 2; Rom. 12:15; and in glory (Rev. 7:9).

This morning was the last time I got to sit around a table with all my wonderful friends from my weekly women’s bible study. We had a good visit over brunch, though. One woman stood up and shared heartfelt thoughts about her year in the group. What an amazing collection of women they are. We talked a lot about how we will all get together over the summer. Sad thing is, not everyone is usually able to come when you try to keep a thing like that going, and the attempt to stay together eventually weakens.

This evening we had one of our best friends on the planet over for lentil soup and cornbread in honor of her birthday last week. I made a rum cake with Haitian rum, too. We enjoyed visiting with her so much, especially since we don’t get to see her very often for some silly reason. She really is quite special. Happy birthday, special Merrikay!

I resolve to make more of an effort to hang out with people who are important to me, and worry less about it having to be over restaurant meals and organized occasions. Don’t know what that’ll look like yet. I seem to have forgotten how to just ‘be’ with friends. In fact, I’ve only recently learned how to just ‘be’ with the Lord again, enjoying His company without making it a prayer event or a study session. It’s been pretty easy, really, since He’s always available for a chat. I think it’ll be harder with my friends.

posted by Joye @ 10:42 PM 1 comments

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

I was tagged, too!

“What does “meme” stand for?” asks my blogger friend, Tinkerbobbie. I found this definition on Wikipedia: “The term "meme" is a theoretical concept coined in 1976 by Richard Dawkins, and refers to any unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice, idea or concept, which one mind transmits (verbally or by repeated action) to another mind.” I found a nice website for blog writing prompts called The Daily Meme.

Four jobs I've had:

1. unit secretary in the nurse’s station of an adolescent psychiatric treatment center (fascinating, interesting, disturbing job)
2. maid for a residential cleaning company (the MOST fun job!)
3. office manager for a cosmetics testing company (learned a lot, made good friends, wouldn’t want to do it again)
4. Publication layout tech (I don’t even know what the real title was, but it was my bunny-slipper job that I did from home)

Four movies I can watch over and over:

1. French Kiss
2. Les Miserables (the 1974 version)
3. Raising Arizona
4. Amelie

Four places I've lived:

1. Fort Smith, AR
2. Buffalo, IA
3. Tulsa, OK
4. Newport Beach, CA

Four TV shows I love (this was hard, I don’t ‘love’ any TV shows):

1. Scrubs
2. Lost
3. Paula’s Home Cooking
4. Keeping Up Appearances

Four concerts I'm glad I went to:

1. Doc & Merle Watson
2. Chet Atkins
3. Gordon Lightfoot
4. Andrae Crouch & the Disciples

Four places I've vacationed:

1. Hilton Head Island, SC
2. Colorado Springs, CO
3. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
4. Royal Caribbean cruise ship (with 3 ports of call)

Four of my favorite dishes:

1. India Palace palak paneer (a spinach blend with fried paneer cheese)
2. homemade macaroni & cheese
3. El Chico tortilla soup
4. my own meatloaf

Four sites I visit daily:

1. Comcast homepage (I get my news & weather there)
2. Google (always looking for something!)
3. my favorite bloggers’ sites (a long list)
4. Flylady

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Ft. Smith, AR (visiting my mom)
2. a remote mountain cabin with my husband
3. a movie theater
4. in a 5-star hotel room

Four bloggers I am tagging (if you want to play):

1. Vicky at Vicky & Dale’s Laughs, Loves & Life
2. Lori at A Little of This and That
3. Kendra at Spring Means Inbetween
4. Brent at McKinney's Diner

posted by Joye @ 9:30 PM 2 comments

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Happy Birthday, Ian

Today is our son’s birthday. Thirty-one years ago tonight, in Davenport, Iowa, we were at St. Luke’s hospital having a baby. Wow. I remember cradling him in my arms as Mike and I placed our hands on his tiny, new body and prayed for him. We thanked God for giving him to us, and we gave him back in dedication.

We were so young to be parents. I was nineteen, Mike was twenty-four. Mike had taken his first full-time pastorate less than a year earlier and was busy with hospital visits and funerals. I think he officiated at least six funerals that first year, in a small Quaker church. I was working at J.C. Penney in Davenport and trying to figure out what I should be doing as a new Christian and a pastor’s wife. My mom arrived from California the day after Ian was born and stayed two weeks to help (and to teach me how to be a mom to a newborn!).

You really can’t know what kind of adult your child will turn out to be. You do the best you know how as a parent, and if you’re able, trust God to fill in the gaps and supply what you cannot provide. And you hope a lot. Hope that they inherited only the good family genes and none of the bad. Hope that they’ll have some clue of how very much you love them. And hope that they don’t break your heart.

I could list a lot of personal things about Ian in this blog, things that I think define him as a man, things about him we’re most proud of, and the like. But those things are too personal to plaster on the internet and I don’t want to embarrass him. Suffice it to say, we are so proud of the man he has become. And we are so very thankful that he is our son.

If you read this post, Ian, happy birthday again. We love you.

posted by Joye @ 8:21 PM 5 comments

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Gray Matter

This room is gray. How can a room be filled with color, filled with light, and still be gray? It must be a result of the gray matter in my head. After eight years living in the same rooms, my brain has a tendency to tune out the details of my surroundings. Even the clutter on the decorative trunk across the room seems glued into place atop an immovable object. Like it belongs there. Like a display in a museum, “now if you’ll turn you attention over here, ladies and gentlemen, you’ll see a prime example of a typical domestic scene in homes of grandparents all over America in the 21st century. Notice the large tin canister with the depiction of a quaint cityscape decorating the outside, how it’s filled with crayons. And the bits of paper scattered across the trunk. Visiting grandchildren would sit quietly for hours in the two miniature folding chairs you see stacked beside the art supplies, and create exquisite, primitive artwork to be displayed on the grandparents’ huge, art display box called a “fridge” which you’ll see in the next room, and which doubled as a food preservation unit. This way, please…”

I used to rearrange the rooms in my homes for the express purpose of keeping the gray at bay. Something happens in my mind when I move the couch over there, and switch the pictures from the west wall to the hallway and the sconces from the hallway to the west wall. The room “pops” again in my consciousness; I see the room and the things in it when I walk into it. But moving furniture around to keep from being bored with a room no longer interests me. It isn’t as worth the effort at fifty years old as it was at even forty to push and pull heavy objects across a floor for the sake of aesthetics. I’ll settle for the grayness and alleviate boredom in new and improved ways. Like a new book. Or having the grandchildren over to generate new museum displays. But how they get children to sit still for hours in the future is beyond me. Maybe gene manipulation?

posted by Joye @ 10:31 AM 3 comments

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Mike's Day Off

Mike and I started off with no itinerary. Here’s a summary of today’s events:

- Made a Walgreen’s stop. Bo-ring!

- We went to Dallas to eat lunch at India Palace, our favorite restaurant. Chicken Tikki Masala, Tandoori Chicken, Saag Paneer, Malai Kofta Kashmiri and Naan. Swadisht!

- Then we drove to north Denton to the tattoo shop where our son, Ian works- Smilin’ Rick’s. My brother, Andy and his sweetie, Shirley were there from Oklahoma for Ian to do some more work on Andy’s in-progress tattoo. Ian’s creating an eagle that covers Andy’s whole back, and the eagle has a snake in its talons. Oweee!

- After that, we stopped at Mardel’s on the way back through Denton. I was so excited to find easy-to-understand commentaries by Tom (N.T.) Wright! Can’t wait to start reading tomorrow from the one I bought. Small thing, but still a blessing. It’s the little things in life.

- Then we met some very, dear friends (the Warrens) for dinner at Saltgrass, after which Mike went to a meeting and I went home with Darlene and shared some tasty coffee (Mike never goes for flavored coffees, so Darlene’s coffees are always a treat) over a game of Scrabble with Anna (their daughter, MY friend!) and Darlene. Darlene won, but we won’t hold it against her. For too long, anyway. Right, Anna? And we ate cheesecake that Frank (their son, MY friend) made which is unequaled in deliciosity (I don’t think that’s a real word). I think he should start a business creating the lightest, fluffiest, creamiest, best-eaten-plain-so-you-can-taste-it cheesecake.

- Mike finished his meeting and joined us for Loy's favorite (Kauai peaberry) coffee, and then we went home. Tired. Full. Tomorrow will have its own busyness, including a wedding! Bring it on!

posted by Joye @ 12:32 AM 4 comments

Thursday, April 20, 2006

A Plague of Zombies

What do you call a group of zombies? A plague of zombies. What do you call a romantic comedy/zombie movie? Shaun of the Dead.

We had a nice dinner with some good friends last night. Then we watched Shaun of the Dead. It came up while channel surfing and our friends had never seen it, so we thought they might find it worth a looky-loo. It’s another one of those films where the “f” word serves in multiple stead for all eight parts of speech. It’s also one of those zombie films in which Violence and Gore are as much the protagonists of the story as any actor. What were we thinking?

I guess we were thinking this movie is hysterically funny, especially if you like British humor. I don’t know if our friends appreciated it so much, but they loved us enough to endure the whole movie.

Here’s a thought: there’s something peculiar about enjoying a bowl of Bluebell Peaches & Homemade Vanilla ice cream while watching a plague of zombies rip out a man’s entrails. ‘Em’s good times.

posted by Joye @ 11:03 PM 2 comments

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Tuesday at Gran's

There are some events in your life that when they occur, you know they’re monumental. The birth of a grandchild is one of those. As emotional an experience as that is—as life changing—the aftereffects are pretty small: one day, one step even, at a time. Once the excitement of the birth is over, life continues on pretty much the same since the grandparents aren’t the ones living the cycle of night feedings, diaper changes, and constant care. But you find each day is marked by something new. A new person, a new love colors your life in the most beautiful colors that didn’t even exist before that little person was born.

We’ve experienced that monumental event three times now, and a fourth will make his/her debut next winter.

I know you’ve heard all the little cute-isms:

“Grandchildren are God's reward for putting up with your kids.”

“If I had known grandchildren were this much fun I would have had them first.”

“I may not be rich, but my grandchildren are jewels.”

I would never use those first two quotes, because I wouldn’t take anything for the years with which God gifted us to raise our own children. But the sentiment for the grandchildren is so true. I wonder why that is? What’s different between our affection for our children and later our grandchildren? Some say it’s because you don’t have the burden of making sure they turn out right. Some say it’s because you’re not striving to make your own way in the world anymore, so you have more time to invest in them emotionally. I couldn’t tell you. But I could tell you this: knowing what I know now as a grandmother of three beautiful, little girls, if I had never had children or grandchildren for whatever reason, I think I’d be hustling to find a family that needs a grandmother and I’d finagle my way into that family, and I’d have grandchildren one way or another! It's that worth it.

Squeal and Squeak stayed overnight last night. We had a sleepover. All we did was watch Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and eat popcorn and emmies (M&M’s) and then they went to bed and I read them a story and they went to sleep. Then Lindsay brought Squish over this morning and I kept all three girls until she returned to pick them up around 5:30. We played in the wading pool. We worked on scrapbooking. We ate happy meals. We practiced Irish step dancing and the Swim, the Jerk, and the Pony (I know, I’m dating myself, but I am a grandma!). We really didn’t do anything special. Just lived a day together. But, oh, the fun we had! And one-year-old Squish was right there in the middle of every bit of it, writing on the patio with sidewalk chalk and playing in the water. Squeal, who’s five, has decided that we should have a sleepover once a week. That’s a good idea. I think I need to re-evaluate my calendar.

posted by Joye @ 10:51 PM 6 comments

Monday, April 17, 2006

Good Stuff

I’m excited! My new CD came in today’s mail. The Little Willies’ self-titled debut album is mostly Western swing, with a variety of other good stuff, and what I like best about it is that one of the five members is Norah Jones. Who would’ve guessed you could get good swing music out of New York City?!!! Excuse me while I go indoctrinate the grandkids as to what constitutes good music.

posted by Joye @ 5:10 PM 2 comments

Fill the Boot Day

I HAAATE Fill the Boot Day! I stop at a traffic light. A firefighter in a dark, blue tee-shirt approaches my car. I lower my window. He smiles. I smile. I draw some money from my wallet and deposit it in the large, rubber boot. Then I raise my window and catch the green light.

A while later, I stop at a traffic light. A firefighter in a dark, blue tee-shirt approaches my car. I try not to make eye contact for fear I’ll have to lower my window and dump the remaining contents of my wallet into his bottomless, GIANT boot. I stare at the traffic light. C’mon, green light! Hurry, hurry, hurry. After an eternity the light turns green, and I flee. But I’m not quick enough. Guilt snags a ride and roosts on my shoulder to pester me for being stingy. The scene repeats itself for as many times as I’m forgetful enough to keep venturing through those intersections.

Next year, I’m definitely staying home on Fill the Boot Day.

(My disclaimer: Fill the Boot Day raises money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, and I do always give money to MDA at the grocery store checkouts this time of year. This organization provided scooters to my brother-in-law which gave him mobility he wouldn’t have had, and they made available a summer camp for our nephew to attend and meet other children who shared the same illness as him.

I like to give to charities that I choose rather than the ones that choose me! I’m equally uncomfortable with church people who pop up at intersections holding out buckets.)

posted by Joye @ 2:11 PM 2 comments

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Easter Sunday

Today was full of thanking, laughing, conversing, eating, and playing. And eating. And celebrating. It was a very, nice day spent with family. Happy Easter. Happy Resurrection Day!

posted by Joye @ 7:58 PM 3 comments

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Passover Seder

“The Passover Seder (Hebrew סדר, pronounced 'say-der', meaning "order") is a special Jewish ritual which takes place on the first evening of Passover in Israel (the 15th day of Nisan), and on the first and second evenings outside Israel (the 15th and 16th days of Nisan). Conducted as part of the holiday meal, the Seder relives the enslavement and subsequent Exodus of the Children of Israel from Ancient Egypt through the words of the Haggadah, the drinking of Four Cups of Wine, the eating of matzot for the first time in the holiday, and the eating of and reference to symbolic foods placed on the Passover Seder Plate.” (from Wikipedia.org)

We had a Passover Seder at church tonight. It’s incredible the number of prophetic references in the Seder that point to Jesus as the Messiah. The experience was enlightening and emotional for me, and I venture to say for everyone who attended. The rabbi and worship team who conducted it are from a large messianic synagogue in Dallas called Baruch Hashem, and they did a tremendous job of it.

Mike and I chatted with some friends over coffee at Starbucks afterward, and we tried to figure out why 800 people eagerly attended this event, but other events elicit less of a response. We didn’t come up with anything viable.

posted by Joye @ 12:22 AM 3 comments

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Defending the Faith

A featured magazine article in this month’s Adbuster magazine titled, “Spiritual Pollution,” caught my eye today. Curious, I sat down and thumbed through the entire magazine before finding the touted but inconspicuous, little piece of journalism on the very last page of the publication.

Turns out, the spirituality being addressed is that of Muslims. Read on:

The first paragraph reads, “Why are so many Islamic fundamentalists willing to fight and die in the name of their religion? How does a life of austerity and faithfulness win out over instant gratification and self-indulgence? This is one of the greatest mysteries that we in the West just cannot comprehend. After half a century of increasing devotion to secular materialism, many of us have forgotten how powerful a force deep spirituality and faith can be.”

Akbar Ahmed, a Pakistani scholar and diplomat, and author of Postmodernism and Islam, is quoted in the article on the ‘challenge to the very idea of a life centered around faith.’ He says, “The collision between the global civilization emanating from the West and Islam is a straight-out fight between the two approaches to the world, two opposed philosophies. One is based on secular materialism, the other in faith.”

I had four distinct trains of thoughts as I read. One, they are not going to be able to keep secularism at bay forever. Two, being a godly people does not come by a moral few holding militant vigil over their followers. Three, Christians need to be cognizant of the continuous temptation of secular materialism in our own country and hold a spiritual vigil over our own hearts. And four, any God worth worshipping doesn’t need us to fight His battles.

I feel for followers of Islam, I really do. Western secularism is banging on their gates with a battering ram of temptation, and it’s threatening the external piety of their entire culture. Hey, welcome to the reality of followers of Jesus Christ in the Western world! We fight the battle of secular materialism versus a biblical worldview every day of our lives! But ‘a life of austerity and faithfulness’ in any religion is assaulted by desire for ‘instant gratification and self-indulgence.’ We all suffer (or enjoy, as the case may be) those nasty cravings on a daily basis. On bad days we don’t fair too well, but I think when we take Galatians 5:16 seriously, we’re able to keep the gates intact through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Here’s a little story from the book of Judges, verses 6:25-31:

That night this happened. GOD said to him, "Take your father's best seven-year-old bull, the prime one. Tear down your father's Baal altar and chop down the Asherah fertility pole beside it. Then build an altar to GOD, your God, on the top of this hill. Take the prime bull and present it as a Whole-Burnt-Offering, using firewood from the Asherah pole that you cut down." Gideon selected ten men from his servants and did exactly what GOD had told him. But because of his family and the people in the neighborhood, he was afraid to do it openly, so he did it that night. Early in the morning, the people in town were shocked to find Baal's altar torn down, the Asherah pole beside it chopped down, and the prime bull burning away on the altar that had been built. They kept asking, "Who did this?" Questions and more questions, and then the answer: "Gideon son of Joash did it." The men of the town demanded of Joash: "Bring out your son! He must die! Why, he tore down the Baal altar and chopped down the Asherah tree! But Joash stood up to the crowd pressing in on him, "Are you going to fight Baal's battles for him? Are you going to save him? Anyone who takes Baal's side will be dead by morning. If Baal is a god in fact, let him fight his own battles and defend his own altar."

I agree with Gideon’s dad.

posted by Joye @ 11:36 PM 2 comments

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The Boring Normal

Everyone has to live the boring normal. I think that’s why we occasionally try to lose ourselves in something else, like a favorite TV show, book, game, electronic gadget, a vacation trip. Some of us become adrenaline junkies—jump out of airplanes, take up running, eat lots of chili peppers.

I am so caught up in the jet stream of boring normal right now. Aside from the ‘heart-felt’ excitement of last Thursday (see Tack a What? post), the most exciting thing that’s happened lately is the visit to my friend Pam’s goat farm yesterday. She and her children, Andrew and Inna, raise Nigerian Dwarf and Mini Mancha goats at Agape Oaks.

I confess, that really was loads of fun. Lindsay, the three minis and I went to see all the newborn goats, and they are the most delightful, little bitty things I ever saw. The mama goats are all really sweet and friendly, too. It was a hoot to watch one of the newborns trying his darndest to climb up on top of his reclining mama like he was playing King of the Mountain. He couldn’t manage to stay up there for the life of him, but he kept trying. Cute, cute, cute. I guess kids of the goat species are just like kids of the human species. They love to climb all over their moms.

All butts aside (couldn’t resist the goat pun), most of my days are great examples of mediocrity at its finest. I like it that way. Nobody wants life to be ordinary e-v-e-r-y s-i-n-g-l-e day of their lives, but routine is the stuff that security and stability are made of. It’s part of our character building process. It’s life at its most purifying and refining (despite what those sissies on Survivor might say). Give me boring normal any day. And on those odd, anomalous days give me chills, give me thrills, give me the life extraordinaire that helps me step out of myself and see what other things God is doing in this amazing world He gave us.

The Smothers Brothers sang a song called The Ballad of Fred back in the ‘60’s that I loved. “Mediocre, dull Fred” led the kind of life I’m talking about. He was a really boring guy. But every now and then, when the moon was full, he’d come out for some fun. If you’ve never heard the song, be sure to click the link. Someone made a cute presentation of it, and I know it’ll give you a chuckle.

Proverbs 15:15 says, “A miserable heart means a miserable life; a cheerful heart fills the day with song.” (MSG) That holds true even in the jet stream of boring normal.

posted by Joye @ 12:45 AM 8 comments

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Anecdotal Evidence

—When I was a young mother visiting family in California, my two toddlers and I accompanied my step-sister, my mother, and my aunt on a shopping trip to Laguna Beach. My aunt drove. The crazy driver in front of us kept slamming on his brakes, weaving in and out of traffic, and just generally endangering our lives. My aunt was livid that someone would imperil her precious cargo that was her family. As soon as we were stopped at a traffic light, she shot out of the car and ran up to the offending car. She reached through the window and grabbed the driver by his shirtfront, shook him until the buttons popped off his shirt and the can of beer braced between his thighs spilled all over him, all the while pointing back at us. I don’t know what she said to him—I don’t think the words mattered—but he drove like a model citizen after that.

—When my cousin was in high school in Oklahoma City, he and a friend broke into a vacant building. Once inside, they discovered that someone else had beat them to it, but never left. A man had evidently attempted to gain entrance through the roof and become tangled up in some wiring, only to meet his untimely demise by accidental hanging. My cousin gave the body’s arm a little tug to try and pull it loose, but only succeeded in pulling off the arm. Terrified, they ran for help. The police arrived, and no charges were filed on my cousin and friend for breaking and entering the establishment.

—Bigamy runs in my family. My grandfather married my grandmother and they had three children before my grandmother discovered he had a wife and family somewhere in Kansas! Needless to say, I never met that grandfather. My fourth-great-grandfather, Samuel Riley, was the last person in the Cherokee Nation allowed to be married to more than one wife at a time. His wives, my fourth-great-grandmother Nigodigeyu and Gulustiyu Doublehead, were sisters.

—During a family reunion in Agra, Oklahoma many years ago, we wound up with all the women at my aunt’s house to watch a chick flick, and all the men at my grandparents for a game of poker. In the middle of our movie, the front door suddenly burst open. In marched all the men, walking backwards and wearing their coats and jackets backwards as well, bumping into each other and smacking into walls and furniture like those manic steel balls in a pinball machine.

—My seventh cousin spent a year in prison for horse theft, and was known for harboring fugitives from the law. She also owned a house of ill repute in Ft. Smith, Arkansas. She was murdered two days before her forty-first birthday. Her name was Belle Starr.

—My grandfather, who referred to himself as “God’s Little Indian Boy,” held various kinds of jobs: he rode fences for one of the largest ranches in the country; he traveled the rodeo circuit as far as Calgary earning a living as a gambler; he was in the U.S. Cavalry. But he had a drinking problem. Family legend has it that he once drove his car through the storefront window of a local bar and when he climbed out of his car, he ordered a drink. Another story is that someone robbed him, slit his throat, and buried him in an alley. He survived. My mother met him when she was a girl of thirteen, and was told he had only months to live due to complications from an ulcer. Thirty plus years later, he died of cancer at the age of eighty-four. His greatest accomplishment: being the father of fifteen children.

—I have sixty first cousins. It’s been a while since I counted them all up, but I think that’s counting the three who died as young men and now live in heaven (what a joy to know that!), the three that have never known the family, and the one who was placed for adoption at birth but found us when she was sixteen years old.

—My two brothers have always been adventurous. The younger has been a race car driver, a boxer, a police officer, a bouncer, and a soldier. The older has been a soldier, a survivalist, a fugitive, an ordained minister, a missionary, and will soon become a registered nurse.

These are a few random stories about my family. Everyone has great family stories. Wanna share one of yours?

posted by Joye @ 9:55 AM 6 comments

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Bible Thumper

Jesus Freak. Holy Roller. Fundamentalist. Fundie. Christian Right. Narrow-minded. Intolerant. Hypocrite. I don’t have to tell you that these are pejorative words used by people who don’t like Christians and/or for what we stand.

I live a secluded life. I rarely spend time with people who don’t have the same belief system as myself anymore, that’s the way my life has worked out for the past few years. Usually, it makes for a very comfy existence (maybe too comfy, I admit). But today I had a run-in of sorts that stirred up emotions I haven’t experienced for some time.

As a member of an internet forum for Baby Boomers, I participate in multiple dialogues about a myriad of subjects with over 50 other people from different states, lifestyles, backgrounds and worldviews.

The dialogue that got me into trouble was entitled, “Church.” The facilitator presented the observation that churches seem to be dwindling in attendance and losing young people, and asked everyone for his or her opinion as to why that was happening. You know, “Twalk amongst yaselves.”

It progressed with various opinions as to why people aren’t going to church. The general consensus was that people don’t need church; Sundays are better utilized for playtime. The climate took on a definite chill toward conservative Christianity. I added a couple of opinions, a little something about the church not being a building. I contributed enough for everyone to know where I stand as a Christian, while trying to keep it as safe and nonspecific as possible. A gentleman (I’ll call him John) then posted this comment: “Doesn’t anybody else keep up with reality? I am concerned about the politicalization of organized religion. This intelligent design silliness and the conseratives (sic) bible thumping while they pursue mostly venal agendas are a little scary.”

It was that last line that got to me. I felt the same as if someone stood across from me in a room and said it to my face. I was also reminded of my alien status (I Peter 2:9-11). My post in response read, “I thought this dialogue was about church attendance, not vitriolic Conservative-bashing. While I agree with you that some religious right-wing groups overstep their boundaries, I don't want to be lumped in with "bible thumpers" who pursue ANY agenda, let alone venal. If it isn't okay to generalize about other groups of people, why is it okay to generalize about conservative Christians? I'm not sure this is the right forum for that.”

Okay, so I was a little harsh. I knew it as soon as I posted the comment. I waited for the next reply, anxious about how mine would be received. Another member (I’ll call him Bob) who frequents the site more than anyone else, posted a plea for us to “kiss and make up.” John apologized. I apologized, even though I still wanted to set the guy straight. Then Bob posted three long replies which strung together formed a sermon being preached to me. The gist of it was that John had no reason to apologize, and I should learn to control my “hot buttons.” Using himself as an example, he advised me to look beyond myself; that he (I) must first set an example and live the way I preach. He worded the whole thing in the nicest possible way, the man is a former U.S. diplomat. But I felt my temperature rise.

I wanted to type into the little text box that I was justified, that John called me a bad name and called my beliefs silly; sticks and stones, and all that jazz. That if I had any “hot buttons,” he was the one that pushed them! That he couldn’t know it but I’m really a very, nice person, who as far as I know, doesn’t have an enemy in the world. I’m the peacemaker, the mediator, the middle child, for heaven’s sake! And that I was right and he was wrong! And if they weren’t going to be nice to me I wasn’t going to play anymore!

But I didn’t. I typed in a compliment and a thank you. I thought about all the people that would be reading the exchange. I thought about all the other posts I’ve made in all the other dialogues which fit together in those peoples’ minds like puzzle pieces that complete a picture of someone who holds a biblical worldview. I thought about Colossians 3:8, “But now you also, put them all aside: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive speech from your mouth.” (And from your keyboard as well!)

What a tiny, miniscule, infinitesimal glimpse of animosity toward Christianity. It got my dander up, but it shouldn’t have. It doesn’t matter what someone else says, I’m called to behave a certain way. I know that. But sometimes—I hate when that happens!

posted by Joye @ 11:40 AM 2 comments

Friday, April 07, 2006

Celebrating Squish

Today is Squish’s 1st birthday! Happy birthday, little Squish-Squish! She brings so much joy to our family, I don’t know how we got along without her before last year! Three cheers for Squish!

posted by Joye @ 11:49 AM 4 comments

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Tack a What?

On Thursdays, I get to gather with the best collection of women and study the Bible with them. As we were well into our study this morning, I started to feel lightheaded. Then my heart started thumping harder and faster until I thought it would jump out of my chest and land right on the table in front of me for all my friends to see. The room grew whiter by the second. I think all my blood was settling in my toes, because I sure wasn’t getting any to my brain.

Realizing I’d better speak up before I dropped dead on the floor and put a damper on everybody’s morning, I said, “Could somebody go get my husband, I think my blood pressure is doing something funny?” I never saw seven women spring into action so quickly. Someone helped me lie across the chairs while others set out to get help, a cup of water, wet paper towels to put on my neck. They located a nurse, who tried to take my blood pressure but the sphygmomanometer was broken. My husband was at IHOP, his second office, so he arrived after a few minutes. But in what seemed seconds, people were hovering over me and asking questions. Everyone responded so urgently to render aid. I was amazed. I didn’t know what was going on in my body, but I felt safe in the care of these people who did whatever they could, like ministering angels.

I wonder if that was how Jesus felt in the garden of Gethsemane, safe for a few moments in the care of angels. I wonder if the angels were frustrated, only able to minister to the Lord’s immediate needs but unable to alleviate His anguish. I wonder.

Mike drove me to my physician’s office. The doctor’s diagnosis: tachycardia. Turns out I discontinued a medication too abruptly and my heart reacted like Stinking Sanders cut loose from his leash—it tried to zoom away from me. The doctor sent me home to take a little, white pill and now all is right with my world again. And with my heart, thank you.

I’ve said it before (Aloof, March 26), we can’t do life alone. I have no idea what might have happened had the same thing occurred while I was home by myself. But today was such a sweet reminder of the importance and the blessing of seeking out community.

posted by Joye @ 11:31 PM 6 comments

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Vertically Challenged

“Short people got no reason to live.” I don’t like that song. It’s mean. I once read that Randy Newman meant it as a satire about prejudice, but it just comes across as offensive if you ask me. I’m short, I should know.

At a less than towering 5 feet, 3.6 inches tall, no one has ever called me “Stretch.” I suppose I should just drop the .6 inch, it’s probably long gone by now. My brother has called me “Shortie” ever since he had a growth spurt in junior high and started looking down on me. Literally, of course.

Up until I married Mike I was the shortest one in my family. But I loom over my sisters-in-law, which is a most awkward feeling. I guess it gives me some idea of what it must be like to be tall. I wonder if tall people have to suppress fleeting urges to noogie people on the tops of their heads. That’s the sensation I get when I’m walking alongside Susie, my sister-in-law, but then, sometimes she deserves a noogie. That’s one I’ll ask my son-in-law about. He’s tall. John Wayne was tall. Cesar Romero was tall. These mashed potatoes are so creamy. (Sorry, I wandered off into lines from While You Were Sleeping)

I’ve come across a couple of random Discovery Channel programs on T.V. about the lives of little people, the ones who have their homes structured to accommodate their size. I want a house like that. Like the Baby Bear in the story of the Three Bears, where all of his stuff was “juuuust right.” I do have folding stepstools in my kitchen and laundry rooms, but they’re a pain to drag over, unfold, climb up on, retrieve desired object, fold up, and put away every time I need something from a top shelf. Ah, well, it could be worse. I know I’m sweating the small stuff. But…

Seldom do I buy a pair of pants or a skirt that isn’t made for someone at least 5 feet 7. Some stores do carry petite or short lengths. But the hems hit me right above the ankles. Oh joy, oh rapture. So I have to settle for the length designed for the pituitarily-endowed and take them to a tailor or hem them myself. Actually, I have other choices: buy tall shoes, let the pants drag the floor, or turn up the legs into cuffs. I have opted for each of those at times.

I have always said that when I get to heaven and receive a new body, I want longer legs and bigger…well, mostly longer legs. Not that I want to look like a Barbie doll, ew, or that being taller would improve my life so much. But everyone has things about their bodies they’d change if they could. Some people do change them if they have enough money and enough nerve! I’d never go to those lengths, though. Like Popeye says, “I yam what I yam!”

And that’s the long and short of it. The end of my tall tale. Or short story.

posted by Joye @ 4:04 PM 12 comments

Monday, April 03, 2006

Get LOST!

I made some new friends this weekend. They live, quite reluctantly, on an island: Jack an upright doctor with great leadership qualities, Kate a felon with a heart of gold who can hold her own against any man, Locke a Yoda-esque guy who can’t make up his mind between the Force and the dark side, Sawyer the other felon with a not so golden heart but he can’t help it ‘cause he’s a victim, Sayid who’d like to give up torturing people but old habits are hard to break, and all the rest of the happy gang that are stuck on this island somewhere near Tahiti.

Don’t make the mistake of comparing these plane crash survivors to the castaways on Gilligan’s Island, mind you. The castaways could never hold a candle to these folks as far as good looks and machismo go, and weren’t nearly as interesting. Even though I don’t think the Skipper and Gilligan ever kept as many secrets as the new survivors do, and even Mrs. Howell was a better communicator than any of my new friends.

My son loaned me the first season of Lost on DVD. Both of my kids and their mates have been smitten by the show, and I’m always interested in whatever they’re interested in. I spent the last two days watching all 24 episodes plus the Special Features. Then I spent a couple of hours on Wikipedia, catching up on season 2 so I can jump right in when the next episode airs on Wednesday night. I really like that they have a Korean couple in the show that speak only Korean to each other. You see every other kind of Asian group represented onscreen except Koreans (unless it’s an elderly couple who owns a small grocery store in New York City).

Ordinarily, I would consider watching a T.V. series for two days a colossal waste of time. Well, I still do. But Mike’s out of town, so my regular evening routine is out of whack anyway. Why not let everything else fall by the wayside for a bit? It was fun. Watch an episode, do some dishes. Watch another episode, throw in some laundry. Watch another episode…you get the picture.

Lost sort of reminds me of a computer game I used to play called Riven, except with people. Menacing jungle, abandoned bunkers with mysterious laboratories, and the constant awareness that someone is lurking around but you can never see them.

Anyway, I think I’ll be watching or taping the show on Wednesday nights now. My suggestion to you, if you want a good story without having to crack open a book—get Lost!

posted by Joye @ 5:01 PM 4 comments

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Too much Good Friday and not enough Easter Sunday?

I watched a movie last night, called ‘Manna from Heaven.’ It was a cute, little, independent film about money falling from the sky right into the hands of a kooky family in Buffalo, New York. Many years later, they have to return it. In one scene, saintly young nun, Sister Theresa tells an embittered, old man, “You’ve been living with too much Good Friday and not enough Easter Sunday.”

That line of dialogue stuck in my head, especially with Easter being only two weeks away. I like it. It’s thought provoking, and I think it can go pretty deep, although I’m not the one to do a treatise on it. That would take waaaay too much thought time for a blog. But what kinds of choices would one have to make to live that way, with too much Good Friday and not enough Easter Sunday? I don’t think it’s just another way of saying, “You’ve been living with your glass half empty instead of half full.” A spiritualizing of pessimism versus optimism.

Good Friday is the day when Christ was crucified. It conjures up images from ‘Passion of the Christ,’ the most stunning depiction on film of what Jesus went through on that day: astonishing injustice; abject cruelty; bloodshed; pain; abandonment; crucifixion and ultimately death. A death that was intentional and substitutionary, designed and ordained for our benefit, hence the ‘Good.’ Theologically, there’s so much more to it, but I’m no theologian. So for an explanation of one pithy remark, I’ll wing it.

Centering one’s heart on the ugliness of life—the pains and injustices one is bound to suffer living on the Green Planet, or maybe the underbelly of humanity (are you listening, newshounds?)—would certainly be living with too much Good Friday. Never moving past the death on the cross to the glorious Resurrection would be a gloomy place to camp out, whether we’re talking metaphors or real theology.

Easter Sunday is the day we celebrate the disappearance of Jesus’ body from the tomb; He returned from the dead (the extreme miracle of all time) with a brand new, supernatural body; He made extraordinary appearances to his friends, and lingered long enough to reassure them and bolster their confidence in Him; and He was carried up into heaven. The Resurrection accomplished and confirmed everything around which the Christian faith is built. And its season of celebration brings to mind thoughts of rebirth, renewal, spring, and new growth.

Renewing one’s focus as often as is necessary on what’s good in creation, and working out our own reconciliations, sounds like the healthier way to go. I already quoted Philippians 4:8 in my last post, so not to make too fine a point, but… ditto! Concentrating more on Easter Sunday would also guarantee, at the very least, glimpses here and there of the glorious victory wrought in the revivification of God’s Son. Not that we’re ever really going to understand all of it, but what are we waiting for? Even the glimpses give reason to celebrate every single day, and twice on Sundays!

posted by Joye @ 11:21 PM 3 comments

About Me

Name: Joye
Home: Lewisville, Texas, United States
About Me: I write whatever's on my mind or what's going on in my life from a biblical worldview. God has gifted me with His Son; my husband/best friend; 2 children and 2 children-in-love; 4 grandchildren that make my heart soar; dear friends; and an uncommonly loving church family. Life centers around relationships and I thank God every day for the ones He's brought into mine.
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