New Pigeon Toilet Proposed

Worshipers of soft, shiny fabric have proposed a new monument to be placed on the grounds of the Oklahoma State Capitol. Slick sheets are nice and all, but I can’t imagine worshiping them. To each their own, I suppose. I’m an Egyptian Cotton girl, myself.

And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why the embodiment of satin looks like this.

pigeontoilet

Oh! You meant Satan! As in Lucifer, the father of lies! And here I was wondering why you had a temple of not quite silk.

“The monument has been designed to reflect the views of Satanists in Oklahoma City and beyond,” temple spokesman Lucien Greaves said in a statement. “The statue will also have a functional purpose as a chair where people of all ages may sit on the lap of Satan for inspiration and contemplation.”-via NewsOK

And tacky selfies. You know it would happen.

I wonder if Lucien is just dyslexic.

funny-Devil-reading-letter-Santa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I bet he was really confused when his parents took him to the mall at Christmas time. He was all ready for the sulfur and damnation. Although, there is a lot of crying and gnashing of teeth around the fat man in the red suit, so I guess it wasn’t that far off.

 Similar requests for monuments have been made by a Hindu leader in Nevada, an animal rights group and the satirical Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. -NewsOK

Eventually, the Capitol grounds are just going to be littered with monuments. Our pigeons will be so confused. So much selection and variety. Why, they might even run out of time to patrol the car wash.

Personally, I think it’s ugly. If it gets approved (which I doubt), it’ll be a real eye-sore, but it’s not going to cause me any crisis of faith. At least they aren’t asking me to pay for it. As a Christian, I already know who wins that war. Seems silly to build a monument to the loser.

God didn’t call us to build monuments, He called us to feed His sheep. The Ten Commandments monument that is already there is neither sacred nor deserving of any special reverence. It’s a thing. His word is written on our hearts. Only you can let Satan in there.

“Miracles are a shadow of what’s to come, miracles are a temporary fix.”

I. am. moved.

How many times have I wrestled with hopelessness praying for a miracle? Praying for healing or deliverance or…

Just watch

Found via Matt Walsh

How very short-sighted of me. I worship a God that has promised eternal life free from pain and suffering. Free from worry. An eternal kingdom where miracles look like mere parlor tricks.

Miracles are a shadow of what’s to come, miracles are a temporary fix.

This is the most profound statement regarding the promise of the Gospel that I’ve heard in a long time.

I’ve prayed for a lot of miracles, and I’m sure I will pray for many more. I’ve seen miracles with my own eyes. But I hadn’t really thought about it that way. A shadow of what’s to come.

I stand amazed.

I suppose when faced so directly with ones own mortality, the fleeting nature of life is a bit more in focus. Funny that, since we have no promise of tomorrow. None of us do.

Abby is beyond miracles. Her fix is permanent. The promise is fulfilled.

 

Loaves and Fishes

I woke up the morning of Sunday the 22nd with a feeling of inexplicable peace. Inexplicable because I had gone to bed worried and stressed. But God said, ‘Be still and know that I am God.’

But

Shh

But

Shh

Okay

So I made plans. And they fell through. So I tried something else. And it failed.

So I waited. I just knew exactly how God was going to make it work. An unexpected check would arrive. Surprise windfall.

Nope. His ways are not my ways. His thoughts are not my thoughts.

Checked our bank account every day. No change. Well, more correctly, just change. Checked the mail, no surprise windfall.

But no bills either. None. I was a little worried when the envelope came from the credit union. It contained the receipt from my mom making my loan payment. A note on the back saying just because we love you. (Thanks Mom!) And each night, we had food. Plenty of food. Leftovers, even. Just enough fuel in the gas tank for the week.

One week. Sixty eight cents in the bank account. And it was enough.

Loaves and fishes.

Sometimes I need the reminder.

 

So, Here We Go

We’ll just start with the graphic

I stand with Erin Palette banner

Today is a big day for my friend, Erin. Follow that link because it answers most of the questions.

It’s funny, she actually told Michael before she told me. And then she let Michael tell me. My initial reaction, “That explains a lot.”

Then I proceeded to message with Erin on Facebook and tell her how much I appreciated her trusting me with her big secret and how honored I was that she’d be so vulnerable with me. Since then, we’ve had conversations about whether or not it was time to tell the world. My answer has always been the same, “You have to do what is right for Erin. I will support whatever decision you make.”

You see, Erin has always just been Erin. Since I am in a happy, committed, monogamous relationship, her fiddly bits or who she’d like to share them with are none of my business nor concern. She had already proven herself to be a good friend to me and the rest of the gun-blogging community. Something she has just done again in support of Bonnie (click that link too). I judged her on the content of her character and found it good.

I’ve learned a lot about her struggle that I never would have realized had she not been so willing to be so frank with me and had the patience to explain when I have blundered into an offensive landmine. My eyes are opened to a world I never saw prior to knowing her.

Brigid, as usual, said it beautifully

What if just for a day, you were judged solely on what you’ve read, what you’ve learned the hard way, what you are, what drives and inspires. What if you were valued for your innate abilities to survive and prosper through that day without birthright; handling yourself and your actions without apology, but simply by the human vanity of your own strengths and the grace of He who loves us as we are.

If that day came, who would the world see?

You see, I have the advantage of looking like my image of myself. It’s me looking back from the mirror. When you see me, it’s me. Sure, it’s not everything. I’m sure you see the confident woman I am always striving to be. You see the brown eyes, the olive skin, the dark hair. The same olive skin and dark eyes that meant my elementary school best friend wasn’t allowed to come to my house because I was one of ‘those people’ to her mother. Her mother couldn’t see me. You all saw Erin long before you ever saw her face, and Erin is beautiful.  I am proud to stand by her side and call her my friend.

Meet Sam and Help Kids With Cancer

Remember this?

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Yeah, you do. I did that for Madison and her mom. Madison’s battle is over, and she’s beyond any pain and suffering now. But I didn’t just do it for Madison.  I did it for kids like Sam.

You don’t know Sam? Well here’s his story.

I learned about Sam from a good friend of Sam’s dad, you all know him as MsgtB.

Sam’s dad thinks his mustache is only worth $500. I say F* that noise. As of this writing, he’s already doubled that. I think we can do better.

Sam’s going to get better. He’s going to have many years before he meets Madison. St. Baldricks funds the research to help kids beat cancer. That buys you enough karma points to go kick some puppies and tease some kittens with your tuna sandwich.

His donation link is here.

 

Fear Not, The Lord Is With You

Sorry for the poor film quality. Last year, I set up the camera and told TeenBot what buttons to press when.  This time, I let him wing it.  With a new, far more complicated, camera.

Particularly in light of recent events, it’s easy to forget that the Lord is with us always. Especially in the hard times.

This weekend, not only did I have the pleasure of singing for my church in our Christmas Cantata, but I got to watch my son perform Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in his first piano recital.  It seems such a simple blessing, but one I cannot take for granted.

Have a Merry Christmas.

Click the Button for Tam

See this button?

EDIT: Apparently, I can’t steal her button. So click the picture and then click the button over there. This is what I get for not testing prior to publishing.

It’s Tam’s donation button collection of 1’s and 0’s.  If you are able, you should click it because cancer is a bitch and deserves to die in the fires of the special hell. And because medical bills only come in size large and on up from there.  Trust me, I know.  I’ve got my own pile of them in dealing with spinal issues this year.  Thankfully, I have the luxury of a pretty decent health insurance package that makes it a bit more manageable.  Tam does not have this luxury.  Such is the life of the glamorously self-unemployed.

You’ve probably seen similar requests over at Matt’s place and Marko’s.  I expect you will be seeing more because as Matt says, we need her more than see needs us. I’ve not had the pleasure of knowing her as long as these two gentleman have, but she’s dear to me all the same. I am far from alone in that sentiment.  Just by being herself, Tam provided my cute, ornery, bratty, troubled niece* an example of an awesome, sweet and powerful woman not to be trifled with. That alone is worth more than all the gold in the world.

Prayers and positive thoughts would certainly be welcomed as well.   Go on and pester the Big Guy on Tam’s behalf.

ETA: Just in case you need extra incentive, $5 puts you into the raffle for some sweet custom grips.

*BabyGirl’s story is her own to tell.  Suffice it to say, she needs every positive role-model she can get.

Refocused

In an attempt to help the TeenBot improve both his writing skills and intellectual curiosity, we assigned him a project for the summer. He was to research and put together an essay (ish) on the history of the Soviet Union.  We’ve spent countless hours talking through some high points and adjusting the assignment.

And he digs in his heels and does nothing.  It’s frustrating to say the least.

But at least my son is here to be frustrated with. He can confound and irritate and then shock and amaze. Sometimes all in one breath. Each of those shiny silver strands that have started to appear on my head are a treasure, purified in the fire that is parenthood.

My friend is shaving her head this weekend. She’ll never find that article that finally sparks an interest and have in depth discussions with her teenager about the worldwide implications of the Chernobyl disaster. No, because Madison’s life was all too short. Her light so bright it couldn’t be contained in one little girl.

Her mom is continuing to carry Madison’s light.  If you feel so inclined, you can help her lift it.  She is shy of her goal.

There’s a challenge going around the office for us to shave our heads in support. Am I as brave as Amy? I don’t know. Bald would certainly be a new look…

Madison’s story has graced these pages before here, here, and here. It was in her name that I donated hair last year.