But...the Party's In the Basement"

 "The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him." John 1:9-10 [NIV]

Before even getting up out of my chair, I knew what the knock at the door meant. From this side of the heavily  treated wood and fogged up glass, it felt ominous, dark, and foreboding. I had no idea what to expect once the door actually opened, but I could guess about  how it would go....

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

Image: wjhl.com

Ducking behind proverbial skirts, I called out for Steven to answer the door. We both knew what was about to go down and I decided to be a big emotional chicken and pass the buck up to the head of the family. [poor Steven, lol].

It's been a rough year for everyone. Scratch that, it's been a rough TWO years for everyone. Unfortunately, that equates to a rough year for the owner of our current domicile, as well. Pulling up stakes, he has decided to place this home on the market. 

Hence, the knock at the door.

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

Steven shuffled over to the door and opened it, stepping outside to greet the short woman who seemed about our age, with a slight deer-in-headlights look about her face, but a friendly smile across her lips. As I followed my hubby out the door, it occurred to me that this woman has probably had to deal with a lot if her job is to serve the people of her county walking papers all day. I then remembered that while packing up the storage pod, I'd placed Steven's heirloom shotgun right in the glass cubby of the door entry way. Probably NOT a very welcoming sight. 

Then ... I was COMPLETELY surprised. Both parties relaxed a little. SHE saw the moving pod, all the boxes, the mountain of trash ready to be hauled to the curb. WE saw that she wasn't carrying hand-cuffs, or a bullhorn to announce our disgrace, or packing heat. She was just a woman doing her job.

She apologized. SHE apologized. It wasn't her job to. SHE doesn't own this property and decided to sell it out from under us. But SHE expressed how sorry she was that she had to serve us our official 15 day eviction notice. 

WE apologized to her for having to come out here in the first place. Then we told her, we know God has everything under control. We really ARE richly blessed. And she returned with "Merry Christmas". Not happy holidays, not season's greetings or an awkward smile indicating some form of discomfort over the phrase. Just .... "Merry Christmas". 

And then she brought the tears to my eyes because she made solid eye contact and said: "God bless you."

Image: Dave Granlund

You know what, sweet eviction notice lady? He already has! He really already HAS!

Imagine a different sort of eviction notice in a different time and space, in a very chaotic and crowded atmosphere. Joseph and his very pregnant wife just WALKED roughly 100 miles with a donkey for their only comfort - not because they wanted to visit some distant family before the baby arrived or because they wanted to celebrate something with friends, but because they HAD to register for a census so the king could make sure he got taxes out of them. Fun, huh?  Joseph gave this only comfort  donkey ride to his wife, he very likely walked the entire way. 

Bethlehem was by this point, bursting at the seems with folks, having all done their duty and travelled to register for the census. It was customary at the time for travelers to stay with family whenever they were away from home. Looking at the Hebrew words: malon, pandochelon, kataluma  we learn that they translate to "earliest night resting place". In short, there were no inns the way we define them. An inn was a resting place for the caravan, or family, or group of travelers while on the road, but it was usually a predetermined spot where a family member lived or a watering hole hid tucked into some rocky outcrop. It wasn't some fancy building with a hostess dressed in all black and a fake smile plastered on her face. 

Now imagine this ... Joseph and Mary didn't even get their foot in the door of the "inn" before being served their eviction notice. And it seems to me that this must have stung Joseph, at least just a little bit. His FAMILY was telling him, "oh sorry .... you took too long to get here .... or, Uncle Jeb has the guest room but you can stay down in our stable, we really don't mind.". I can see the person at the door wondering about what all the other family members would think if the household actually WELCOMED a woman of questionable pregnancy and her "husband". What would the neighbors say? But the dug out, cave like, dank storage space for the animals? Yeah, that's ok. We don't mind if you hunker down there out the way in the dirt where no one can see you and you can't visit with family.

But .... THAT'S where the party is! It's in the basement! It's in the dug out, cave like, dank storage space for the animals. In a watering trough for live stock, THE LIGHT of the whole world came to us. And even back then, when it all got started .... people didn't recognize Him for what He really is. 

This little baby? Wrapped up in the swaddling clothes probably made by Mary, placed in a musty old drinking trough that probably still had animal spit on the outside of it -- this little baby, Jesus? He is EVERYTHING! God's FINAL word! This is it folks! We were gifted the one true real light. There isn't another one. There isn't something "bigger" and "better" coming just around the corner. JESUS is everything. 

And WE were gifted this priceless gift in the most humble and unassuming way. 

So many of us miss the party. We turn away the questionable pregnancy, or we shun the adulterer, or we gossip about so-in-so's finances or what's-their-name's language. We offer the stable to those of us with whom we don't agree, or don't understand. It's the trough for you of questionable sexual preference or orientation. Go to the dank cave you of the mental illness or bi-polar disorder. 

Image: John Cole

It really does astonish me sometimes that the more things change, the more things stay the same. We still turn Jesus away at the door and tell Him there is no room. There is no room in this life of the pandemic and the homeless and the broken. But my friends. JESUS is the only light in this chaotic darkness. HE is the smile on sweet eviction lady's lips, He's the smile on mine. I have been personally given the most precious, the most valuable, the most amazing and beautiful Christmas gift of any time anywhere. 

Guess what? You were, too!

Is There Any Hope?

 "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1:4-5 [NIV]

Eyes are closed, steam is billowing up into the air because the window is open just a crack, and the frosty air of early morning is dancing with the heat from the water. There is no sound but my heartbeat because I'm completely submerged. 

Image: Public Domain Wikimedia.org

Mornings begin with physical therapy in a tub of hot water while I unkink tight tendons and get my surgical mesh to straighten back out after a night of sleep. I love this little moment of my day. Not because of the pain, obviously, but because it's quiet. With my head at the bottom of a hot bathtub, earplugs in, and warm steaming water all around me, I pray, sometimes hum, plan out the day ahead, make mental lists, and even come up with a blog idea or two. But today, it's just quiet. 

In my head, I can hear Morse code and tap out a little message on the bottom of the bathtub. Yesterday, our Pastor shared the story about the USS S-4 submarine that sank while doing routine maneuvers between buoys just off the coast of Provincetown, MA. During this exercise, the US Coast Guard destroyer "Pauling" was on patrol at about 18 knots and accidentally rammed the S-4, sending her straight to the bottom. 

Immediately, massive efforts were put in place to rescue the crewmen on board. They were running out of air, and what little they had left was quickly filling up with chlorine gas because sea water had flooded the battery compartment and created a deadly chemical reaction. 

Into the water splashed Lt. Fitch. 

A professional Navy diver, Fitch, was sent to the sunken vessel to assess the situation under the surface. His task had been to set up the proper rescue cables, rigging, and safety equipment and begin the dangerous and laborious rescue of the trapped men inside. Having already made initialcontact with the men inside the crumpled boat at the bottom, Fitch stopped mid-task when he heard a question being tapped out against the hull.

"Is there any hope?"

Bringing my head up out of the hot bath water and watching the steam on my skin mix with the cold air from the window, I can't imagine being tasked with answering that question. By this point, Lt. Fitch knew they were not going to be able to get the crew of the S-4 out alive. A massive storm had broken out overhead, and the rescue teams had been ordered to haul back into shore for their own safety.

Image: Public Domain Wikimedia.org

But Fitch did answer. He replied: "There is hope. Everything possible is being done."

Those words must have cost him because, in reality, Fitch knew there wasn't any hope. Again, I can't even begin to wrap my head around the gravity and sheer oppressive magnitude of the situation those men faced.

ALL of them.

And I FEEL that question right now. It weighs down on me as I attempt to get all the water droplets off my skin before the goosebumps inform me that I am cold. I feel the heavy weight of those words as my feet hit bare tile because the bath mat and most of the bathroom have already been boxed up.  And I FEEL that question as I look around at all those boxes, the piles of bubble wrap and tape, and prepare to roll up my sleeves for another day of packing and cleaning. 

There are moments in my life when it's difficult to see that there is hope. Moments like; hubs losing his job, the owner of our rental selling the house after we'd just renewed our lease, the endless question; will my chaotic,  painful, and janky medical journey ever smooth out?...

I tap it out... absent-mindedly... on the bathroom counter. Is there any hope? Do we have a place to go? Will we have a shelter under which to place a Christmas tree this year? Even if it IS just our little Charlie Brown tree with the one red ornament drooping from its single bough?

I've also heard this question posed more frequently of late in public. In the grocery store, at the gas station, at the thrift shop... where I proceed to haul another box of donate-ables; from the yard guy who is losing his business because people can no longer afford to pay someone else to do their grass, from the entrepreneurs who bought up properties thinking they could get a foot into the real estate business and now find themselves scrambling to unload assets because they are no longer really assets, and from people like me - unloading un-necessaries from an overloaded inventory that you are forced to relocate at someone else's behest. 

The song sung by the man before the Waffle House pulls at my heartstrings the most. With the sole possession of an acoustic guitar strapped around him cross-body, he plays for tips because ... he lost his son to the state when his job loss lead to homelessness.

I find my fingers tapping again.

Is there any hope?

Indeed, there IS. 

John reminds us that even in the dark, even when the skies are belting out snow blizzards and the power is out, or we find that we are BACK in the job market while we attempt to support a family, or we are in the hospital AGAIN.... in Jesus, there IS light. In Him, there IS life, and that life is the light of ALL mankind. You, me, EVEYBODY!

Even right now! ...in this unstable and topsy-turvy dark storm - Jesus IS the light. Jesus IS our hope.

Sometimes the tunnel through which we are forced to sludge and grope is so overwhelming, so dark, so demoralizing that the only thing we can do to survive the magnitude of the thing, is focus on the light at the end of it. But we know, because history has proven this a gabillion times if God hadn't already right out PROMISED us... it really doesn't rain every single day, and when we focus on the light that Jesus freely provides .... and keep moving forward - one moment, one prayer at a time .... we WILL get to better terrain. 

For God promised us ... NO darkness can overcome the REAL light. It SHINES in the darkness. No matter how dark it seems to get.

When we can't figure out how we're gonna get through this moment? ...how we're gonna keep the lights on, how we're gonna survive the loss of someone we love, or heal after a trauma? ...how are we gonna get through 2024? Sometimes, we just can't asnswer those questions right now. But we CAN see the hope and focus on THAT. Because we know that while we don't know how things are going to work out? We are EMBRACED by the ONE who does.

A Christmas List

 "Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen." I Timothy 1:15-17 [NIV]

Image: Steven Dalton

The tiny little calendar at the bottom of my computer screen indicates that we are now on the verge of that magical month of December. It must be true. Traffic is thick, Christmas trees are strapped to the tops of vehicles in a haphazard temporary adornment that makes each car look like they have a mohawk....needles trailing in the backdraft and sprinkling the roadways. "Good King Joy" as performed by my ultimate favorite Christmas music group "The Trans-Siberian Orchestra" is pumping from my Youtube speakers a little too loudly...

It MUST nearly be December. It must be Christmas.

Much like little Cindy Lou Who, however, I'm askin' that question. Where ARE you Christmas? I'm havin' a difficult time findin it amongst the recently experienced 11 months with out income, the miscarriage of our oldest son's first child, the fun little bout with Noro Virus, the pneumonia suffered by our oldest granddaughter, TWO  emergency surgeries that lead to an additional admittance through the ER sprinkled on top, Papaw Babb's room was ready in Heaven this year ... and oh yeah, in about 24 hours, for all intense and purposes, the Dalton Gang will be homeless.

Image: Steven Dalton

The hard truth of Christmas 2021 is that as a species, we are ALL dealing with a growing list of similar struggles and heartbreak thanks to that fun sounding virus that hit us all square between the eyes. And while it might FEEL like Christmas just isn't gonna happen this year. At least, not in my heart ... it's actually BLOOMING all around me in shimmering gold, red, and green brilliance. And unlike my grumpy, haggard, self-absorbed....self - the blooming all around me isn't just a bunch of people going through the motions to satisfy the little ones. They aren't scratching up the tops of their mohawk cars with zombie-like expressions and vacant-eyed stares. They are smiling. They are laughing. They are plugging in every light within a tri-county radius and putting plastic Santas up in their yards. They are buying in with money from their own pockets to keep a small struggling farmer's market open. They are standing out in chilly weather with a guitar for tip money because they have no home, no family but are givin it everything they've got. They are standing in front of Walmart with a big fluffy Santa hat and a bell and smiling at all the stressed out shoppers. Get this ... they are SINGING along with the Christmas music!

How?!

Why?!

Well. Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves repeating. Christ Jesus came to the world to save us. All of us. Every. Single. One. And while I don't technically have a home in which to put up a Christmas tree, I AM still going to celebrate! Because the simple, glorious, fantastic and amazing truth is - no matter how UNChristmas I FEEL, it's still happening. Whatever crazy wobble experienced by our little blue marble doesn't  alter the beautiful fact that Christ Jesus Came to the world to save us. To save me. The worst sinner of all. 

Image: Steven Dalton

God showed ME mercy. I don't deserve it. I never will. But to glorify the ONE GOD, I can give that mercy back. To glorify GOD, I will celebrate Christmas. To glorify GOD, I will praise Him and shout it out from every mountain top that Jesus Christ was born!! Amen!!

Pardon me while I attempt to locate the Rudolph nose and antlers that go on the front of my car.

Everything You Want

 "And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." I Peter 5:10 [NIV]

Image: Scientific American c.1962

Looking up into the blank white of our little pop up canopy at the Local Wares farmer's market, I listened for the light pitter patter of scattered rain drops. Of course it was raining. 

While actually extremely grateful for the break in the heat, I couldn't help but be disappointed by the low foot traffic. No body wants to walk around in a cold drizzle just to get a little shopping done. 

Boo.

Watching my fellow brave vendors duck under tents and frantically grab the additional Velcro tent siding, all manner of plastic covers and bags in an attempt to keep product dry, I found myself pondering if we humans would really be better off if we got everything we wanted? What if we always had perfect weather? What if we always had plenty of food on the table, or never got sick? What if our little brand spanking new farmer's market weren't struggling to compete with the older better established markets in our area? What if we had so much foot traffic that we sold out of our products?

Hmmm.....

Turns out, a scientist by the name of John Calhoun wondered pretty much the same thing all through his career in the 50's and 60's. By the 70's, he had created a mouse utopia that would come to define all mouse utopias. It was seemingly, mouse heaven.

This thing had condos, little hide away nooks and crannies, all the food and water and snackos they could possibly want. Utopia.

Then it all went terribly, terribly wrong.

Fit and healthy male mice started "hoarding" female mice of a certain health and appearance. These female mice were dubbed "the beautiful ones." And they lacked for nothing. The male mice would defend a certain number of the beautiful ones, make sure they had food and were protected from the increasing number of squabbles and societal deterioration. And, very shortly after this development, the beautiful ones stopped breeding. They stopped doing pretty much everything but eat and sleep. There didn't seem to be a reason for them to do anything else. No young to raise. No food to procure. 

In short. No purpose. No challenges. Just ... existence.

A vast number of papers, predictions, and observations came out of this little experiment. Much of what was learned is actually still hotly debated by people studying human psychology in a variety of situations. But the one thing that stuck out for me? The little boogers NEED challenge. They NEED a sense of purpose and encounters that challenge the brain.

If tiny little mice can fall completely apart whenever they were provided with a Utopia and lacked for absolutely nothing? .... what would happen to human brains? To human society?

I know. People aren't mice. In fact, one of the biggest arguments against any conclusions drawn from Calhoun's mice study IS the fact that human beings adapt. The mice couldn't make any changes to their environment, they weren't able to change their behaviors in order to present a more positive life experience. 

Humans can and do. And while this IS a valid point, I can't help but think of the very simple correlation between things that impacted the little mouse community - ok, HUGE mouse community - and the things that impact OUR societies and communities. 

Do we REALLY, really benefit from getting everything we want? Well, for the scientific community of testers and box checkers, the jury is still out. But I don't think we have to search the papers and theories and documentation put out there by "people in the know" to glean what we should about our own mental health and fitness in this regard. It's very plainly expressed in black and white. To butcher one of my favorite movie quotes: "they conceal information like that in books." LOL

One book, to be exact.

When Peter wrote the verses penned in this first book named for him, he very clearly pointed out that we, as a species, are going to be tested. Our faith is going to be challenged. We are going to have to face some pretty intense obstacles in our lives. Word for word? We are going to suffer.

And. In this humble writer's opinion. We need to.

Image: Scientific American c. 1962

Would the EMT that suffered 3rd degree burns be the empathetic EMT he or she is when addressing a fellow man with the same condition if they couldn't attest to the pain that specific injury's caused?  Or they psychiatrist working through a patient's clinical depression that has learned a trick or two about survival due to her own mental health issues, would she be the best psychiatrist in her field if she couldn't reach out and at least touch the issue with a degree of personal understanding?

These scenarios are deep. But I think it's even simpler than that. When we get everything we want, when we face no troubles, no challenges, no rain clouds - we no longer NEED to be NEEDED. And we no longer NEED ourselves. 

To hurt, to struggle, or as Peter put it, to suffer - MAKES us reach out. We reach out to others. We reach out to Jesus.

We reach out to Jesus.

Plus, we'd miss out on all the rainbows. So there's that.

Monya Babb's Guide To Eating An Elephant

 "No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." - I Corinthians 10:13[NIV]

Tiny droplets of really cold rain hit the tips of my toes as I stood looking out over the soggy back yard through the open door. Light was just beginning to pop up in vibrant pinks, peeking over the tops of our trees. Hidden by low cloud cover but for short little bursts of blinking and twinkling glimpses through the gray.

Our first Nor'Easter of the year put a bit of a damper on our Saturday Farmer's Market plans. All of the markets in our surrounding area know to close up shop while the winds blow.  As if on que, a gust of wind shook the chimney and set the oak trees to dancing up again. 

And I'm frustrated. I can't sell FiddlyBits stuff, if our market isn't open. 

I can't make more new product to fill some gaps in our inventory right now [a good use of a rainy day], because we have been informed that the owners of the home we currently rent, would like to sell while it's still a seller's market.

The frustration mounts. I can't really dig in and box up our house right now [another good use of a rainy day], as I have already blown threw what few packing supplies we had.

The space behind my eyes starts to tighten up. We can't exactly run out an apply for housing right now. Steven's employment is still recovering from 10 months without income - which leaves us with a credit score laying limp and bleeding out rapidly on the floor. 

And as my toes start to freeze from the rain, the sun is making a good attempt at coming up all the way, I take to the Keurig and make a cup of Southern Pecan coffee. 

And sigh.

It feels insurmountable. This big Elephant in the room. The giant sitting right in the middle of the things I need to get done. 

Ages ago, when I was still in my teens, I found myself faced with a big issue. I can't even remember what the issue was now, but I will always remember what my Mom said to me at the time. "Kelly, how do you eat an elephant?" 

I'm sorry, what? 

She stopped whatever it was that SHE was doing to approach me, look me in the eye and ask again, "how do you eat an elephant?" 

My first thought was, why would anyone want to eat an elephant? Then my brain went right to wondering why she was asking me this. I couldn't see where she was going.

"One bight and a time". She finished. 

I love my Mom.

She's absolutely right. And then she shared I Corinthians 10:13. I love it when a verse FINALLY breaks through. The first thing that struck and stuck? I haven't been given anything in this life that somebody somewhere hasn't probably already been through. My situation isn't new to God. It's only new to me. Right now, in this space. God already knows what's going on and that brings me to the second thing that went off like a light in a dark attic. God is ALWAYS faithful. 

Just. ALWAYS.

He will never give me a thing that through Him and with Him I cannot handle. Sometimes, I want to see myself as the strong individual God seems to "think I am". lol. I must be some kind of Amazon or something. Or it feels that way sometimes.

But the truth is? We are not faced with ANYTHING that isn't common to mankind. 

In other words. It FEELS big and scary right now. But we are not the only ones in this particular sinking boat. The whole world is in recovery and survive mode. Maybe not in exactly the same way, but we are all being faced with a reality that no one anticipated.  We all have an elephant of some size sitting in the middle of the things we need to get done.

Sometimes? The Elephant is sooooooo big? It really is better to focus on the fork, just, keep your eyes on the fork. [Read, Jesus] Before you know it, the giant thing will have disappeared, one single bight at a time.

God's got this.

Are You Lookin' For A Dead Guy?

 "So Jesus said to him, "Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe." John 4:48 

As the rain and the humidity build up on the outside of our glass doors, I attempt to peek through the gaps to see the hummingbirds playing in the rapidly falling droplets. It tickles me, every time I see these tiny little titans, dodging, dancing, flirting and generally showing off in the rain. For one of the tiniest of our feathered beauties, it amazes me that they are one of the only birds who actively play in and genuinely love the wet weather. Each time I see them strut their stuff and barely look in the direction of the most recent cloud to ground lighting strike [or in this case, our neighbor's fence], I am just flat out amazed at the miracle I have just witnessed. Seriously, how could you watch this amazing acrobat and NOT just be amazed at the wonders of God?

Image: Edd Sorenson © scubadiving.com 

Miles and miles away from here, where I enjoy our Florida afternoon thunder storms, in 2018 a man by the name of Edd Sorenson entered some pretty hairy cave diving conditions in a foreign country, in order to retrieve some lost divers therein. He had flown a series of emergency miles in order to be there for the specific purpose of actually going in to a completely new-to-him cave system, virtually unmapped but for some stick drawings, in order to get the bodies back to their families. Not a fun situation to be in, especially knowing so many, many people have pinned all of their hopes on him, Edd, a perfect stranger from a different country.

He had already recovered two. Back into the systm to find the third, Edd discovered the shimmer of an air pocket on the surface of his dark environment. Carefully, Edd began to reach up and around in the darkness to test out the dimensions of the air pocket, and, of course, to reach for any divers that may have floated to the top. Popping his head up into the small space, from directly behind him he hears, "are you looking for a dead guy?"

Image: Edd Sorenson © kissrebreathers.com

Edd, jumped and breathed out "DON'T do that!" Obviously, he WAS indeed, looking for a dead guy and so was extremely startled when said guy spoke to him. It was now a cave rescue and no longer a recovery.

For non cave divers or SCUBA divers in general, this is a complete miracle. Sure, it DOES happen that a recovery diver is surprised with a rescue instead, but it is so very rare and in my view - again, a non diver, there can really be no other word to describe this turn of events. It's a miracle the lost diver found an air pocket with sufficient air to sustain him in a cave filled with gross stuff. It's a miracle that the recovery diver found the exact same air pocket in time to meet up with a very living lost person.

Just .... HOW?

There are MIRACLES every single day, all around us. Jesus told us, you won't believe unless you're faced with a situation in which you have no other choice but to see the truth in front of you. He was right, of course. We are a very skeptical species. After years and years of dealing with each other and learning that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably IS ... we have come even farther away from FAITH than did our predecessors when it comes to believing in anything we can physically see or explain. [Thank you, Science?] It truly amazes me how far we really have drifted away from Faith in anything, in particular, faith of any kind in our Creator - WHO by the way - has NEVER moved or changed. Miracles still happen, all the time. But we, sadly, are no longer amazed. We are no longer looking for nor are we willing to accept miracles when we see them. It makes me sad.

Image: Quantam Heroes © ActionHub

So I wanted to point this one out. God is still in the Miracle business. Can you find them? Have you seen any miracles in your life lately?

I have. I should make a greater point to share them, no?

Bless This Fuel

 "I will praise you ... your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14 [NIV]

The din around us puts a perk in my ears that by now I should find familiar - but  never quite snakes it's  way to the part of my brain that accepts the sound as an old one, a recognized one, one that doesn't send a chill up my spine no matter the number of times I hear it. 

Image: Beach Diner/Trip Advisor

It's not even a frightening sound. Or so I've been told countless times. It's just the combined cacophony of fellow patrons chowing down on one of the most recommended breakfasts in all of Jacksonville Florida here at the Beach Diner.

But I FEEL it, more than I hear it. It rattles my bones somewhere deep. 

My husband and hero of 24 years sits across from me, relaxed, hungry, salting his egg with one hand as he expertly snags a strip of bacon in the other, biting into the perfection of crispy and savory. 

He DOES see me, though I know he's doing his best not to draw attention to my rigid spine, legs tightly tucked underneath me as I have crossed them at the hip and brought them as close to my chest as humanly possible while still allowing for the mobility of actually putting fork to mouth. He knows my palms are sweaty and I'm waiting until the waitress pops by one last time to see for herself that our meal is as we've ordered it and we are smiling and happy. 

He's waiting for me to take a bite. And I will, but until that first amazing, steaming bite of Southwest Omelet hits my lips, I can't relax. I'm waiting.

For a fellow patron to point out that I don't need the calories.

For someone to point a finger at me and remind me that THIS is why I no longer model. 

For that person walking her dog on the other side of the window to point at me and mouth the words - stop. Why are you eating that? Don't you think you should skip a meal or two? I mean, look at you?

And though I DO actually expect these things to happen every single time we go out and eat in public, they NEVER actually happen. I bite into my omelet with the perfect balance of tomato and avocado, including just the right amount of hollandaise dripping from the edges. And nobody points.

I sigh and eat breakfast.

What "they" don't tell you in therapy ... what not a single person on my Psych team CAN prepare me for ... is that once an anorexic. Always an anorexic. 

Wait? Anorexia? 

I'm clearly no longer the runway model with a 23 inch waist and two inch heals looking just above the heads of the people at the mall trying to guess from which boutique I have borrowed today's fashionable ensemble. Clearly, I am no longer sporting $200 sunglasses and designer label make up with hair coiffed to perfection and exactly the right amount of expensive perfume [sprits and walk into the spray, people - never spray it directly on your skin]. Shouldn't this whole eating disorder be a thing of the past?

Ok. First of all. Yes, I admit - I have suffered with an eating disorder for YEARS only managing to periodically jump that major hurtle in my life with a whole bunch of prayer, the right medications and the love, support, and dedication of amazing family [ok, AND the natural child birth of two children - you can't starve yourself while pregnant if you want the baby to be healthy]. 

I know ... I no longer resemble the symptoms of this disorder physically the way I once did, but the thing WILL always be "a THING" in my life FOR the rest of my life. It will always be just over my shoulder, whispering horrible things in my ear: you aren't pretty enough to be seen out in public with your husband today, do you want him to be embarrassed? You don't really mesh with the physical description of the rest of your family all of whom probably weigh at last one hundred pounds less then you do. You are no longer pleasant to look at, and therefore, no longer valuable....

That daemon will always be there in the shadows.

But ....

He doesn't have to win. 

Not anymore. 

Anybody with a crippling phobia, disorder, or even just a bad day will tell you that sometimes the fight isn't daily. It might not even happen regularly on a monthly basis, and that there are, indeed moments when the battle must be fought from minute to minute. The battle lines must be drawn definitively in the sand every few seconds as we gird our brains with God's truth.

There IS God's truth. Always.

But what if you're an M.K.? [missionary kid] or a P.K. [preacher's kid] or a T.C.K. [third culture kid] or my goodness, ALL THREE and you KNOW the answers, already? You know all the Bible verses and have read all the motivational prayer books? You know them by heart because you use them all the time?

There IS God's truth. Always. Even during those moments we don't FEEL it.

And I love David for this in the book of Psalms because - I swear - he goes through the same mental battles as do I from time to time. You can FEEL his struggle, can't you? His pain? His internal arguments? .... AND his victories!  He doesn't merely put pen to paper when praising God, he passionately portrays every single note he sings with a vibrancy not shared by any other author. For me, David is a go-to on bad days because he praises God even when the tears are streaming down his face. Even when he knows he's done things God would deem disappointing. 

Why? How?

Because there is ALWAYS God's truth. 

During moments when I'm absolutely positive the woman on the other side of the window walking her furry little pooch is thinking what a disgrace it is that I even stepped foot inside the Beach Diner for un-needed calories and I've already prayed through every verse in my mental inventory - I sing like David. Lord, I praise you, because you are AWESOME!! Your works are wonderful, I know this full well. 

That "THING" pointing fingers and whispering over my shoulder doesn't matter. It's lies are of no consequences even during the moments I can no longer tune them out - because I praise God. His works are marvelous. The trees are green with spring time, butterflies float from flower to flower in a bright sunny sky, people are eating out again after one of our scariest pandemics and the people that I see out and about are mostly smiling. 

Sometimes, you don't win the battle by knowing all the answers or even applying them appropriately. Sometimes, you win the battle because you put your focus on what truly matters. You praise God.

... vs. Florida Man - Jive Talkin

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." Philippians 4:8 [NIV]

At the end of a hard day there is nothing quite like sitting down with the hubby and perusing his favorite meme videos on YouTube. It never fails to lighten whatever burdens might be upon my shoulders and usually generates quite a bit of laughter. A popular meme of late is one entitled "Florida Man". The gist of these little video bumps has any number of male Florida residents attempting to do something none too bright that ends in disaster. The bi-line usually reads something akin to: "Today in Florida", or "Meanwhile, in Florida" or "Florida Man Does It Again" ... you get the picture.

Funny? Usually. But more and more often lately, for some reason, the frequency with which these FL Man videos bombard the interwebs gets my goat. What of all the GREAT things about the state in which I reside? 

With this thought doggedly running a treadmill in my brain I was inspired to match the sarcastic finger pointing with my own little brand of spotlight pointed at the wonderful things for which Florida Man doesn't receive credit. "dot dot dot vs. Florida Man - Jive Talkin" is my first attempt at this endeavor. Please enjoy ... and I thank you for reading.

Turning my head to look out the passenger side window as Steven and I turned right onto Race Track road, it occurred to me that there could not have ever been a more perfect sunny Florida day. Light was bouncing off road signs, flowers seemed to glow in vibrant colors, the love bugs were out in force, and there wasn't a single cloud in a perfectly blue sky. The icing on the cake? Only in the first throws of May [happy birthday Mom Dalton], we haven't reached triple digit temperatures yet.

...AND, the Bee Gees were playing over my Amazon Music ap.

Gotta admit. I have a thing for the Bee Gees. How could you not?

As the beat started for "Jive Talkin'" my toes tapped, my fingers snapped, and of course I did my passenger seat dance, ignoring the stares from passers by. Steven laughed at me - or I should say - he laughed WITH me, and then told me that the beat to which I was so spastically boppin' started out as the rhythm of tires on the Biscayne Bridge. 

Right here ... in the Sunshine State.

Take THAT Florida Man!

At a live concert in Los Vegas way back in 1976 the Bee Gees took to the stage and divulged how the song came to fruition. The band hadn't had a hit single in quite some time, and perhaps were a bit low and discouraged when they hit the bridge from Miami to Key Biscayne. Rather than placing their focus and energy on the "dry spell", they kept on truckin'. Or as my late and most awesome Grandfather Babb would say - they kept on plowin'. Feeling the beat when they crossed the 5.4 mile expanse, they [much like me] started boppin' and keeping time to the sound.

...of a bridge.

Ku-chunk, ku-chunk, ku-chunk.

Viola. One of my favorite golden oldies was born.

image: Biscayne Bay Bridge/Rickenbaucher causeway

Just for fun, Steven and I took a drive down San Jose to cross the Julington Creek bridge. It took some time, but we DID eventually manage to hit the right rhythm with our own tires at - surprisingly - 27 mph, laughing and singin' along to Jive Talkin'.

Things on this planet right now seem less than ideal. Less that true and right and lovely. Less than pure, less than admirable or praiseworthy. But there ARE still some beautiful moments to be had upon it. Pretty days, light weather, bird song, and music if we choose to focus those things - on right, true, and admirable.

Even if it's a tiny moment falling into the rhythm of tires on a bridge. 

You Are Mine

 " Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine." [Isaiah 43:1b]

Stepping into the dim interior through thick heavy doors, I took a deep breath and let the cool wash over my heated skin. The South American themed cave-like enclosure at the Jacksonville Zoo is one of my favorite places to visit. One might assume it's due to the structure's air conditioning, an AMAZING relief from Florida 115 degree summer days, but it's not the cool air that draws me in every time we take a spin through the zoo. Nor is it the mighty girth of  the beautifully colored Green Anaconda wrapped around the large tree trunk in his semi-aquatic habitat. And ... while the Caiman Lizard is one of my all time favorite subjects to capture with my camera, it's not his dopey smile that has me rushing by the vampire bats and skirting the lookers-on face to face with the poison dart frogs. No, it's the tiny little primates that have me leaning up against the glass, smiling like a kid in a candy shop. One of those little boogers and I, go way, way back. 

Pigmy Marmoset Image: Pet Assure.com

Long before the new South American exhibit became a reality at the ever-growing zoo, the tiny little Pigmy Marmoset monkeys were housed in a cozy, small wired enclosure, decked out with their favorite foliage and nesting materials. An almost hidden little gem in the middle of a winding path, one could get nearly nose to nose with these cute little critters as they played and chatted with one another. However, I made that mistake only once - when the little male looked me right in the eye, turned his little butt in my direction and sprayed urine with a force that I found utterly surprising - covering me in his unique flavor of chemical branding.

Gross. 

For the rest of the trip I smelled that little monster. My clothes were covered in Pigmy Marmoset pheromones. I guess in the animal world, I was marked. I now belonged to the cute little monkey with the adorable little face no bigger than a quarter. I can't say that this made me particularly proud - but if I had been a female monkey, I might have had a different perspective on the matter.

The Pigmy Marmoset is quite the little bundle of cute. So cute, that a whole bunch of people have adopted them as pets.

And people, aren't the only ones.

Image:  ©Jeanne Shirley

In June of 2004 a group of scientists trudged through the dense South American jungles on a mission to study a group of Capuchin monkeys. Pronounced - Kuh-poo-chin - the larger species of primates in the study group had been the subject of photographer Jeanne Shirley. She probably had no idea when she set out on that balmy summer day that she would witness a life-changing event. For the first time in human documented history a group of non-domesticated and otherwise non habituated primates in the wild, adopted an animal outside of their own species. Immerging from the undergrowth, a female Capuchin was seen carrying a Pigmy Marmoset, and proceeded to nurse her as if it were her own.

Incredible on so many levels, this cross-species adoption has so far been the only one documented by truly wild animals. Capuchin monkeys are omnivores and have even been known to kill and eat smaller mammals in the area. It is EXTREMELY rare for any primate to share food, much less share it with an animal that is not in their own troupe. And this behavior wasn't limited to the female carrying the tiny monkey on her back. The entire troupe of Capuchins accepted this little addition, even so far as the alpha male allowing it to "sneak" a few nibbles of his own food.

Image: ©Jeanne Shirley

That is some mighty powerful cute, right there. 

It's unclear WHY this female took it upon herself to pick up the tiny little guy. No one knows if the Marmoset had been abandoned, or stolen. And we're not sure if the Capuchin wanted a pet or a child, but whatever the motivation, the little Pigmy had been adopted, completely. 

Myself, being an adoptee - this article from the American Journal of Primatology simply captivates me. It shows incredible heart, sharing, nurturing, and needs being met - both physical and emotional. 

Very much like our complete adoption by our Lord and Savior. 

In Isaiah 43, we are reminded that we have been completely and utterly adopted. Redeemed by no-holds-barred grace. We've been called by name - and given NEW life.

Like the tiny little Pigmy Marmoset - all we have to do is cling to our Savior.

Hash-tag Discord

"Any kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and a house divided against itself will fall."  [Luke 11:17 NIV]

In the brilliant heat of a Virginia August, Steven and I climbed the steps to the Governor's Palace in Colonial Williamsburg. Immediately hit with the contrast of deep dark woods, shiny brass fixtures and thick, embossed wall-paper, I was drawn to the steadiness, strength, and grace of the place. Built in the 1700's, it would be interesting to have a time-lapse view of the years through which that majestic structure stood. 

Revolution, Civil War, The Age of Industry, and the birth and growth of a fledgling idea in government have all been witnessed by this incredible home. It really would be spell-binding if those walls could talk. The Governor'sPalace has witnessed some of our worst AND some of our most fierce growing pains right along with some of our finest moments as a brand new nation.

Image: Govenor's Palace © vagazette.com

Since the walls weren't willing to dish, the tour guide provided us with some of the amazing history of the physical structure and a few details of the personal lives that once lived there-in. And though it was 24 years ago, I'll never forget what he said. He mentioned the discord between Benjamin Franklin, and his son, William. [yes, I fell asleep a lot in history class so this news seemed new to me. Sorry, Uncle Bill Hyde, aka, my high school history teacher.] Discussing the surprising number of families that were split apart by either standing with the Patriots - driving for American Independence from Britain, or siding with the Loyalists - who felt the sting of betrayal on behalf of the British royal monarchy and wanted things left just the way they were. Our guide then went on to describe a not-quite-famous woman by the name of Debbi Read. The would-be wife of Franklin was never able to legally marry him due to some pretty sticky circumstances on her side, but they were socially accepted as man and wife through common law and Deborah became the step-mother to one, often cantankerous, William Franklin.

And what a job that would have been! Ben and his son Bill DID NOT, by any means, see eye to eye when it came to the political climate of the day. Benjamin saw and believed in the potential for independence from the crown accross the pond, while William on the other hand? mmmmm .... not so much. 

Ben Franklin: Joseph Duplessis cir 1752

That savy old phrase "happy wife, happy life" must be universally accepted as gospel truth because it was at this moment that our tour guide asked the group if we had any questions and my hand shot up [as if I were STILL in Uncle Bill's history class] as I asked: "what in the world was the dinner table like in this house?'  A few chuckles erupted around the room but the tour guide looked me dead in the eye and said: "excellent question".

Really? I was just being a smart mouth.

After adjusting his position from the window sill Mr. Palace Tour Guide let me in on a little Franklin family secret - the would be Mrs. Franklin was a fire cracker and most definitely ruled the roost. She informed her husband and her son that they were to check their politics at the door. There would be no political fist-a-cuffs at the family dinner table.   

I couldn't help the wide smile that spread across my lips. [Go Debbi!] And honestly, I can totally relate. 

Watching my country slowly tear itself apart decade by decade as what amounts to what I have personally dubbed "the cold civil war" drags on and on while two radically different political parties try to rip each other's throats out, my heart aches. Is it really so terrible to sit down and talk things out? To see the potential benefit of combining the best ideas from both parties into a stronger healthier nation? Can we just, please stop screaming at each other for five minutes?

William Franklin: Mather Brown cir 1790

Alas, much like Ben and Bill, there is way too much stubborn pride for either party to shut up and listen. And while the donkeys and the elephants do horrible, shady things to one another the peons that actually pay for all of this discord get forgotten. It's not happening for the benefit of We, The People. It's happening because - hate, power, money, and greed. 

People. It's not that hard. Agree to disagree and drop it. And it would be great if y'all could start worrying about healing a post-COVID broken people and national economy instead of spending all that money on trying to dish out the most dirt on the people that have a different opinion than the one you're totin' around.

I liken it to the baby born with it's umbilical cord wrapped around it's neck. If action isn't taken quickly, the infant will asphyxiate. 

My baby brother and I DO NOT see eye to eye when it comes to the political climate today. But he doesn't do everything he can to discredit me, call me names, nor does he refuse to let me speak my mind. We check our politics at the door when we gather for family stuff. [unless we're pokin' light hearted fun at one another]. And while I don't agree with his views, I still respect them and take them seriously. David isn't stupid for thinking the way he does. He's not my nemesis [unless I choose to make him one.] We can still hang out and laugh. I will certainly always love him.

It breaks my heart to think that a state or two in this once seemingly united field of them want to pull out from the union. It makes my stomach hurt when I think of the surprising number of people that want to kick a state or two out of the "club". Has it really come to this?

Let us get together and figure out how to fix the healthcare nightmare, the social security crisis, and the schools off to which we shuffle our children. Doesn't that make more sense?

Sigh. I guess it's true what Uncle Bill said all those years ago in history class. A nation that refuses to acknowledge and pay attention to history - is, indeed, doomed to repeat it.