TURTLE-DOVE

Turtle-Dove is Moving

2007-09-14T10:30:00.000-07:00

Please enjoy this archive but Turtle-Dove is moving to a new address. Turtle-Dove

September 11 – And the Lord Blesses All

2007-09-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

God said that from each man he will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man.

“Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man.” Genesis 9:6

Trying to think of something to say today about September 11^th is difficult because it seems everything has been said—at least by the great orators of our time. The news is covering the anniversary, and there are commentaries, but what does it mean all these six years later, all the deaths from that day and from the war that still rages?

Too troublesome a question, eh?

I will say that our God, our loving and merciful God, was ever present in those buildings and on those planes making sure those souls who had accepted Jesus, were ushered into heaven.

Hold on! What about everyone else? What about the Muslims, the atheists, the fence sitters, and everyone else?

God blesses and delivers those who ask in time of troubles (Psalm 41:1-2), and will preserve his life. In those final moments, we take comfort in knowing that God heard all those who asked for forgiveness and accepted His Son as their savior. Though many died physical deaths, many now live in eternity.

Okay, okay, so, why didn’t God stop it, why did he let evil rule the day? What kept those planes on track under the iniquity of Satin’s minions?

God has all the same emotions we have. Love. Anger. Jealous. Happiness. But he has something we don’t have, and never will. He knows the hearts of every man, woman and child. He knows what we think, he knows what we’re going to do before we do it, and that amazing fact gives us hope, gives us strength to know that regardless of what we think we know about the guy sitting next to us on any flight U.S.A., the fact of the matter is, only God knows, and only God judges, and only God cares for the souls of everyone, and only God knows why those planes were allowed to crash on 9/11, and why the real culprit is still free.

But where was HE?

Shaking His head, broken hearted to watch that devastation, perhaps conferring with Christ, or the Holy Spirit, making plans for miracles, making plans for souls soon to arrive, preparing Grace for those who would be left to grieve, and for those who would have to clean up the mess.

Many question a God and faiths were tested.

True, some expected him to bolt down a hand and redirect those planes, or slip into the terrorists minds and change them, to equip unsuspecting passengers with a Plan B. We should remember that God used to sweep away the evil, destroy entire cities of vile, including the righteous with the wicked. Is that the way you want God to handle things in today’s world? It didn’t work in the Old Testament days, as man still fell short, turned goodness into evil, turned to false idols. God sending thunderbolts will not change a thing. We’ll quickly forget a miracle, but we’ll never forget 9/11 and perhaps that’s the entire point.

So, God doesn’t hear us anymore?

More than ever! The Bible its very clear that God is a God of petition. We need proactive prayers, not moment of doom prayers. We, and our leaders, need His help every single day, with every single decision we make, thus preparing for intercession before catastrophic events. If our political leaders are corrupt, or misguided or sleeping with the enemy, what’s God to do about that? Everything under the sun has been given to us, including ways to protect this country. All of us have a voice and a vote. God has equipped us now, especially this great land of America, to protect ourselves, to fight our enemies, to stand for our God who gave us His only son as the supreme sacrifice. Read the Bible. Pray unceasingly for peace.

God mourns today with us; He is close to the brokenhearted (Psalms 34:18) and sends Grace to those who ask, and maybe those who don’t. God knows what its like to lose a Son to political schemes, and God knows the why behind it all, and He is the one to ask these tough questions.

In closing, I would like to offer this psalm to all who suffered personal loss, through deaths or destruction on 9/11.

Psalm 41

Blessed is he who has regard for the weak;
the LORD delivers him in times of trouble.
The LORD will protect him and preserve his life;
he will bless him in the land
and not surrender him to the desire of his foes.
The LORD will sustain him on his sickbed
and restore him from his bed of illness.
I said, "O LORD, have mercy on me;
heal me, for I have sinned against you."
My enemies say of me in malice,
"When will he die and his name perish?"
Whenever one comes to see me,
he speaks falsely, while his heart gathers slander;
then he goes out and spreads it abroad.
All my enemies whisper together against me;
they imagine the worst for me, saying,
"A vile disease has beset him;
he will never get up from the place where he lies."
Even my close friend, whom I trusted,
he who shared my bread,
has lifted up his heel against me.
But you, O LORD, have mercy on me;
raise me up, that I may repay them.
I know that you are pleased with me,
for my enemy does not triumph over me.
In my integrity you uphold me
and set me in your presence forever.
13 Praise be to the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.
Amen and Amen.

Not so "Wonderful Tonight"

2007-09-06T16:46:00.001-07:00

I had highly anticipated Pattie Boyd’s biography and not just because she was married to two famous guitar players, George Harrision and Eric Clapton, but because Pattie Boyd was one of my teen idols.

I was a Beatle fan, and I still am, but like many young pre-teens, I was fixated on George’s beautiful, trendy wife. I loved her hair, her eye makeup, her clothes, and how she radiated the 60’s look. In her book, she underestimates her own influence on the era. Apparently she lacked confidence and found herself not once, but twice married to addicts, hoping their addictions would subside and they might take notice of her—and, sadly, she maybe didn’t realize the world had already noted her beauty and brains. She also started trends that the Beatles were credited for, like eastern religion—yet she was the one who introduced them.

Most readers and reviewers are going to miss what I picked up in the book because our current culture embraces all religions, and we have a nostalgic view of the Maharishi Yogi and the Beatles at Rishikesh. But Prior to their introduction to eastern religion (Hinduism, Krishna and Self Realization Fellowship), she and George had a good and solid marriage. Afterwards he spiraled into addictions and abuse until their marriage dissolved. She writes about how he was either holy or holy-hell, how he was either chanting or screaming. How a good young man from loving family had turned into someone else right before her eyes, and all under the guise of being spiritual.

It’s not surprising to this reader that George’s personality had changed, that he began to suffer depression, that he became sexually immoral, addicted to drugs and abusive. That is what happens to a brain on meditation. He isolated himself in a room inside a big castle, trying to become one with God. He thought if he chanted enough—if he didn’t talk to his loved ones, he was making progress. He disassociated. Disconnected. That is what eastern religion teaches. You go off on your own to have your experiences. You live in silence. You live an austere life—it’s all about you.

We knew many such people, my husband and self included. We were either fully into our addictions or fully into our meditations. Many of our friends have died as addicts and yet they did so believing that eastern religion would save them from the demons they fought. Meditation is a drug—it is as addictive as any pill or drink, and that’s why many addicts can’t break the chain by trying to meditate their way out of addictions

There is not an ounce of Grace or Forgiveness in eastern religion. These two concepts just do not exist. You are personally responsible for your life—and lives to come. You live on a reincarnation wheel, and around and around you go until you get it right. But the lie is—it’s not possible to get it right. This is a broken world and we are broken people. Not one baby born today is going to live a perfect life without sin. It is just not possible to attain God status, and besides Jesus, there isn’t a soul on this earth who can prove otherwise. George included.

Besides the devastating ill effects of eastern religion, Pattie's book is insightful, paints an amazing picture of the sixties, the Beatles and of the lost dreams of many from that generation.

Kundalini Fashion or Foe

2007-08-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

People Magazine has an article this week about a young actress who overcame an eating disorder and now draws her strength from Kundalini yoga. What concerned me most about this story is Kundalini is described as simply meditation and chanting. This lack of information is typical of our culture. We’re obsessed with eastern religion, and if you read much of my Blog you’ll see I’m quick to point out the erroneous mistake in promoting it so blatantly. Even more ironic is the message from this story is to go from one addiction to another. Yoga can be an addiction.

The writer of the People Magazine article didn’t consider a common thread that yoga has with addictions. Control. Eating disorders are about control, and so is yoga, especially Kundalini yoga, which is a meditative discipline. The addicts I knew who clung to yoga as their means of recovery, failed and are now dead. 30 years in an Eastern Church gives me some authority on the subject, and a bird’s eye view of the wreckage that a yogic life can leave behind.

Here’s what People Magazine didn’t tell you.

Kundalini yoga focuses on moving energy through the spine, or what yogi’s call the chakra system. How do they do that? They imagine moving energy around the chakras (spine), and this is done in conjunction with certain breathing exercises. It is done in repetitions, usually starting out with a small number and increasing as you practice.

There is an additional concern for addicts. Self-hypnosis is very addicting. It produces endorphins that mimic the same kind of high that cocaine can produce and stopping it suddenly can cause withdrawals. Practicing yoga can become an emotional obligation, something yogi’s might feel forced to practice, and when oneness is never found, depression can follow. Finally, the yogi self-hypnotizes isolates and disconnects from their world in the same way addicts isolate and disconnect.

It’s important to remember that the word yoga is “union,” meaning one. Kundalini yoga is said to enable the person to merge with or "yoke" the universal Self, resulting in union with the Divine. All yoga classes introduce meditation in some form. Breath control, affirmations and incense are often included. These caveats are part of Hindu mysticism. Christians especially should know that any form of pagan rituals, dressed up in cultural style and paraded by Hollywood is a dangerous message.

This lovely actress founded a national eating disorder association and I wonder how much of Kundalini yoga will be introduced to other young women struggling with this cultural disease, or those reading People Magazine. Recovery requires something yoga can’t offer: Grace. Forgiveness.

Yoga is not just exercises; it’s a life-style, a practiced and believed philosophy. In the end, yoga can alienate people from the God of the Bible. It might not happen overnight, but it can change beliefs through hypnotic states. Repetitive yoga techniques interspersed with chanting, mantras or affirmations, has direct access to the subconscious mind without any interference from the conscious mind.

“As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he” Proverbs 11:17

Jesus Psychology

2007-08-22T11:57:00.000-07:00

What did Christians do before there were so many self-help books written on the subject of being…well, a Christian? A quick search of Amazon shows 23, 288 Christian books that will bring us closer to God. Not one is the Bible.

There is a large Christian reading audience who might not realize that some books published by Christian publishers and sold as Christian books, are more psychology than Christianity. And the writers have captive audiences. They hawk their books on the church summer tour schedule, standing in the place of a vacationing pastors.

Each year Americans purchase millions of self-help books, and though they’re not geared specifically toward the Christian audience, they often carry a generic spiritual message. Recently self-help has migrated successfully into Christianity with similar behaviorism messages, such as weight loss, how to be smarter, richer, and happier, only these themes lose the generic spiritual note for Biblical authority.

How does a discerning Christian know what to read, and are the writers qualified to interpret the Bible as a self-help guide?

1 Corinthians 3-4, Peter explains that each of us builds on the foundation of Christ, but we should be careful how we build. He also tells us that though you may have ten thousand teachers in Christ, you do not have many fathers. “Through the Good News I became your father in Christ Jesus.” The good news is the Bible.

Besides questioning if Christian self-help books over simplify physiological problems that perhaps a trained professional should evaluate, reading is way down the list for most people. Everyone’s life is jam packed these days. TV and the Internet vies for any down time. So I question churches pushing books on how to be a better Christian on Sunday’s rather than encouraging their congregation to spend free time reading the Bible, the first source of answers.

Is there an underlying message being delivered that the average Christian can’t interpret the Bible message and we must go “outside” the source and seek interpretation? There could be something dangerous about that, as it can give Christian writers celebrity status, taking the glory away from Christ.

All well said, and from an author who left the secular publishing to write for the Christian market. Still, my questions do force me to think about what I want to put into print and why I want to put it there and if the Holy Spirit is leading the way.

In 1 Corinthians Paul also talks about the gifts from the Holy Spirit. There are different kinds of gifts, such as writing, and we can glorify God through this gift. The Spirit gives the person wisdom to speak with knowledge about God, and this can be written for other Christians. But are psychological concepts Biblical?

I recently went to a Sunday service that had a guest speaker who wrote a book about weight loss. This service had me thinking that psychological concepts can be oversimplified in a church setting, produce shame, worry and guilt, emotions many come to church already carrying as their painful yokes.

Self help should be a personal choice. Essentially we’ll never change unless we want to change. The first step is making the decision. Churches can offer courses to better our lives, and instill Biblical principles into those programs, but is Sunday the place to sell psychology mixed with Christianity?

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with reading books that will improve our lives, but a little awareness of what we’re reading, who wrote it and why we’re reading it, will keep us from watering down the Word with pop-psychology. God can answer all our questions without interpretation, and he can work through trained physiologists if we’re battling more serious problems such as depression or addictions. Books can often spark ideas, give encouragement, offer another way of understanding the Word, but they never do the work that we need to do on our own.

Remember the next time a guest speaker is tackling a humanistic topic on Sunday morning that he’s selling a book. If the Holy Spirit has anointed it, we’ll know through the heart. The most important place to find the truth about all of our life is in the Bible and prayer.

Read the Bible for Life and trust God will speak directly to us.

In The Year Of Our Lord

2007-07-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

I was deeply concerned that a Hindu priest was allowed to open the U.S. Senate. Three Christians stood up and protested his pagan prayers. The news was quick to point out they were “fundamentalist,” as if that explains everything. Of course, they soon became the poster children of all Christians, and once again, forums, blogs and opinions spewed their anti-Christ messages, using this “example” that all Christians are stupid, zealous fools with trumped up salvation issues.

One doesn’t have to be a fundamentalist to be offended by a Hindu prayer that states, “We meditate on the transcendental glory of the deity supreme, who is inside the heart of the earth, inside the sky and inside the soul of heaven…”

What deity is this priest talking about--one of the thousands that Hindu’s worship? Our Senator’s don’t know, and that’s what bothers me. It’s not okay to invite “other” god’s into our Senate under some guise of being tolerant. Too bad if it’s not politically correct to take a stand, but we should be loyal to our God—to Jesus, to the Christian faith that founded and molded our country. Our laws are based on the laws of Judeo-Christian laws of the Bible, not the Bhagavad Gita.

Do our American elected officials need to take a class on world religions to understand that Hinduism and Christianity can never reconcile? I’m troubled that a Hindu prayer was prayed over an American institution.

Was it right for anyone to interrupt the Senate for any reason? Maybe not, but is it really a crime constituting an arrest? Why weren’t they just removed and set free? Since when does free speech include an arrest? But that’s just it…it wasn’t speech…it was defending our Lord, and never in our history has Satan had such a stronghold in our American Republic system.

The Constitution of The United States was signed “in the year of Our Lord,” not the year of our “gods.” Our founding fathers were Christians and their framework was Christianity. Whether that concept is popular with those who continue to rebel against our Lord, is irrelevant to the truth.

The Great Commission

2007-07-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

As Christians we're supposed to be part of the 'great commission,' meaning we're to 'spread the good news.' Having recruited many people into a false-Eastern religion for nearly 30 years, I now find it hard to start dialog where I don't have to explain that "I left that church," and found Jesus. Eyes roll. I know that God meets us where we are, and he uses us there, but sometimes I don't see how I can get those I care about the most to open their hearts when it comes to being saved. They think I am gullible because I was once part of a cultish Eastern religion, replete with a Guru and golden temples, so how can they take me seriously now? Maybe I was a little gullible, but keep in mind I was part of the counterculture revolution of the 60's and that lead many of my compatriots into Eastern religion. Perhaps I stayed a bit too long, but I'd formed community within, and even when I suspected the teachings were questionable, I didn't leave. Nor did my husband. We'd cocooned ourselves into a belief system lacking Grace and Forgiveness. We thought we were open minded, smarter than the average seeker, and lived a toxic faith for years even though we witnessed first hand the human wreckage associated with this church. Our own lives were a wreck, and we were nearly destroyed.

The only thing I can tell the doubters is that I am the first to admit that no one we knew benefited from those false teachings. No lives seemed changed for the better. No families repaired. No forgiveness. We witnessed many people living out tortured lives with strick rules and regulations indicative of monastic life, not the life God ever intended. We, ourselves, strove for perfection, believed we were perfect. Seeking not only to know God but realize we were God.

It was easy getting people to my other church. I told them it was "scientific" that there was peace to be found. I talked to them about universal truths, new age chat before new age was new age! I told them they were special. I passed out books on the subject, encouraged them to "try one service." I had a mountain of pride that I carried around because I had been in the church for so long--knew inside stories about the guru. I bragged about how many people I recruited, thinking I was helping them! Of everyone I recruited, I didn't see any lives changed for the better.

How can I now talk the talk of a Christian? What kind of tools do I need to assure people that the Bible is real? That the Bible is happening, and true? I can tell my story, how I didn't leave my false church and walk across the street to a Christian rival. Instead I lived in a dark place for about five years. I became more agnostic. I tried to delve into the Bible, but while doing that I continued to sin. I prayed, half-hearted, because I didn't believe in prayer--it never worked before, at least not the prayers to a Guru.

Then one spring day God dealt with us. Everything that is done in the dark will come into the light. Everywhere around us lay shattered glass. The glass house had imploded. We found ourselves at a Christian church one Sunday. Nothing was the same again. Jesus got into our lives and changed everything about it--and us. Day by day, a slow process, we changed, forgave, grew in Christ.

I can assure doubters that Jesus changes lives, that he set us on a new course that not only gave us peace but strengthened our purpose. That asking for his forgiveness is a relief beyond words. Living under the Word gives us wisdom. Things look different through the holy spirit. We're not perfect. Christians are not perfect. They are temped to sin as much as anyone. The difference is we take that sin to Christ to wash it away, not carry it around like a burdensome yoke all the days of our lives.

Nothing burns the Lord more than idolatry--and taking vows and worshiping a guru is about as sinful as you can get. But I've been forgiven. There is comfort in knowing that though Paul once persecuted Christians, God used him in a mighty way. I want God to use me--to expose false religions, no matter how sincere they seem, no matter what movie star is part of their cache. I want to tell people to read the Bible and find out for themselves what Jesus is all about.

The Good Wife - Vashti and Esther

2007-05-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

<---Esther (1865), by John Everett Millais

Esther saves her people. This is the first thing that comes to mind when you read the book of Esther in the Old Testament, but while I was researching this lady, I became increasingly interested in the lesser loved heroine of this tale, Vashti.

“In the story of Esther, Ahasuerus is married to Vashti, whom he puts aside after he asks her to appear "before the king with the crown royal, to show the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on", and she refuses. Mordecai's cousin Hadassah is selected from the candidates to be Ahasuerus's new wife and assumes the "throne name” of Esther. The King's Prime Minister Haman (an Agagite) and Haman's wife Zeresh plot to have Ahasuerus kill all the Jews, without knowing that Esther is Jewish. Esther saves the day for her people: at the risk of endangering her own safety, she warns Ahasuerus of Haman's plot to kill all the Jews. Haman and his sons are hanged on the fifty cubit gallows he had had built for Mordecai, and Mordecai becomes prime minister in Haman's place. However, Ahasuerus's edict decreeing the murder of the Jews cannot be rescinded, so he issues another edict allowing the Jews to take up arms and fight to kill their enemies, which they do.” (thank you Wikipedia).

Ahasuerus kicks queen number one, Vashti, to the curb for not making an appearance, which we learn is “in the nude.” How many times have you passed on something your husband wanted to attend just because of a bad hair day? Disturbing enough that she’s “put aside,” but from all accounts the king had her beheaded for not gyrating naked on the table tops! I can’t help but wonder the back story before our wonderful heroine, Esther steps on scene.

Does anyone ever ask why Vashti didn’t want to be paraded around at a banquet that lasted 180 days? Okay, forget about the rumors that God gave her a tail, or worse, “man-parts,” and just focus on the naked part. Then there were all those “advisers” who saw her refusal as some kind of possible bra burning, feminist movement, causing possible discord in every household! Don’t forget the whispers of political intrigue that she wanted to restore her father’s kingdom.

“She was (after all) the daughter of King Belshazzar of Babylon and the great-granddaughter of King Nebuchadnezzar, the man who destroyed the first Temple in Jerusalem.” Okay, that parts really bad in an era where the sages of the time viewed family history as the fruit not falling far from the tree. The night her father was murdered (as predicted by the famous "writing on the wall"), there was much bloodshed and looting in the palace, (which had to be very scary to a young girl. Nowadays we understand the lasting effects of emotional an physical trauma.) Amidst the confusion, Vashti was unaware of the death of her father and ran to his quarters where she was captured by Darius, the succeeding king. Darius took pity on the young Vashti and gave her to his son Achashveirosh as a wife.”

At this point, she’s living in Coto and life is good, but she’s a disturbed young woman having witnessed so much bloodshed and living through uncertainty, and rumor abounded that she was a “wily politician, not merely a passive royal ornament. As the scion of a once-mighty royal dynasty, she would flaunt her pedigree in Ahashverosh's face.”

I think we can understand some of her resistance.

“At a banquet celebrating the Jewish people's demise, described in the first chapter of Megillat Esther, Achashveirosh ordered Vashti to appear at the feast unclothed so that he could show off her beauty to his entire kingdom. In a classic demonstration of the divine midah k'neged midah (measure for measure) justice, Vashti was called to appear before the king naked on Shabbat, a punishment for her tradition of forcing Jewish girls to work before her on Shabbat stripped of their clothing. When she refused his command, Achashveirosh had her beheaded at the advice of his minister Memuchan (identified by one opinion in the Talmud as Haman), abruptly ending her relatively short life. Vashti's execution set the stage for Esther's appointment as queen, ultimately leading to the Jewish people's salvation from Haman's threat of annihilation in the Purim story.”

I had to read that about six times. The king is at a banquet celebrating the Jewish people’s demise, and said King is going to punish her for making the Jewish girls work on Sabbath. No wonder Vashi was confused about her husband’s orders, and given that it was rather obscene, no wonder she refused it!

Thus Vashi remains maligned, if not elusive in history, a stepping stone for Esther’s heroic events.

How did Esther feel being the replacement Vashti? It had to be very frightening for a young Jewish girl to fathom the idea that her possible future husband might have her murdered for not wanting to be used as a drunken spectacle to his friends—on Sabbath. Or that he was once married to a woman who was daughter to King Belshazzar of Babylon and the great-granddaughter of King Nebuchadnezzar.

Support Our Troops

2007-05-27T13:38:00.001-07:00

More Thoughts about Ruth

2007-05-06T12:19:00.000-07:00

“The Lord grant you that ye may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband…” Ruth 1:9

That’s a powerful message from Naomi, and could be missed by today’s women Bible readers. I know I missed it! It was only today when I opened my very old King James Version to review some additional thoughts about Ruth, that that message all but “leaped off the page.” Many women (myself included) do not turn often (maybe never) for rest in their husbands. Let’s face it, that is not something society ever talks about. I haven’t Googled the theological meaning, but to me it means we have to let our men lead, care and protect us. Sound’s old fashioned, doesn’t it?

I can still hear that Enjolie perfume commercial, “bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan…cuz I’m a woman!”

Growing up at the end of the 50’s and early 60’s, I watched my mother in both rolls—both wife and worker, on the crest of the woman’s movement. She had enormous strength and energy and did about 100 things at one time—including working, cooking, cleaning, gardening, crocheting (things for everyone but herself)…but she eventually burned out and died too young of cancer.

Getting back to Ruth, we see that she wasn’t a slacker; she went right out into the fields and started working. But she was a widow, with no man to meet any of her needs. After she married Boaz, I can assure he she wasn’t working in the fields anymore. Us modern women sometimes think once we’re married we still have to work the fields, gather the grain, haul it all home and pound out a loaf of bread while our man is working a remote from the comfy recliner. Society has put it into our heads that our needs don’t matter as much as our husband’s. We don’t realize this, but it’s not healthy for our marriages to be all to everyone. We’re not wired that way. It’s not what God had in mind when he created woman.

I thought I was a bra burner, the most modern thinker when it came to women’s rights. But reading the Bible has changed my perspective considerably. I don’t think there’s one right answer for all women, but we can take the messages, like those of Ruth, and pattern our lives in ways that are healthy and pleasing to God.

Ruth also reminds me to be gracious rather than ambitious. In our fast-paced world that’s not always easy for me to do. I find myself being ambitious to get the laundry done and the groceries out of the way on Sunday (the day of rest, mind you) so I can have “time to veg” before the workweek starts all over again.

The devil is in the grind—the “traffic of life.” A phrase I heard at bible study the other day and couldn’t resist using it.

Sometimes we think no one understands our pressures, or our sorrows. God does, and it's revealed in Ruth.

God understood Ruth’s sorrow when she lost her husband and the pressure to survive, just as he understands our problems.

If you’re anything like me, you think your problems are too insignificant for God. After all, there are huge sorrows in this world and if I line mine up, they look rather tepid compared to world events—which by the way, we’re being bombarded with on TV and the Internet. Every bad thing that happens to any one of the billions of humans on this planet is now reported. This is the devil’s plan. He’s making you feel insignificant along side murders, wars, hurricanes, and all manner of ill, so that you won’t pray for yourself, and if you don’t pray for yourself, you don’t make a connection with the God.

See how that works?

It’s hard to get down on my knees and pray for myself when the world is so broken and when I’m broken and being petty about traffic and the sorrows of others. It makes me feel selfish, somehow, but that’s the wrong wiring. That is just plain devil lies.

God tells us to pray, for ourselves, for others and for the church. He commands that we pray. It’s a sin not to pray, especially for others. He doesn’t tell us to pray only for the great injustices of the world, he wants us to pray for our own trials, no matter how small they seem to us. We are worthy in God’s eyes.

And that’s one of the other messages I got out of Ruth. I am worthy in the eyes of the Lord. He cares about me. Now get down on your knees and pray!

Thoughts About Ruth

2007-04-25T13:03:00.000-07:00

A Kingsman Redeemer is a foreign concept to most Americans. A Kingsman’s Redeemer (redeemer means buy back) would act as a trustee for family business, buy back enslaved family members, buy back family land and provide an heir.

Other cultures in modern time still consider “family” no matter how weak the link. How many of us know our second and third cousins? Let alone a cousin through marriage? I don’t even know where my first cousins are, and if I were in trouble, I’m not even sure I could call on my dad!

In the Book of Ruth, Boaz was Ruth’s Kingsman Redeemer through her mother-in-law, Namoi. Even though Ruth’s was linked by marriage to a man who had died, her position was secured under God’s laws.

By today’s standards, people might not like the idea that their fate might be entrusted to that of another family member, and yet, when we look at choices people are making on their own, they really can’t make a good case for their freedoms. Plus, when we get into trouble today, most of us have to go to the bank not another family member ready to help set our course and restore our comforts.

Imagine knowing your relatives were going to do the right thing by you? What would happen to the Jerry Springer’s show?

Naomi understood that for Ruth to have a good life in a new land she would need the help of family. Imagine how different the story would have turned out if Naomi hadn’t had family to rely on? Or, imagine if Ruth had been a “willful” heroine and not willing to follow the instructions of Naomi?

Well, times are so different. Our children aren’t going to trust us to know the “right course.” Our society encourages individual freedoms. Culture now dictates our children, seldom the wise wisdom of parents, let alone ex-in-laws!

Parent’s Prayer

Please help me, oh, Lord, to be a wise parent and advise my children according to your Word.

May I always be there for them, as you are always there for me.

Show me how to be an example that will inspire my children to make right choices.

Free them from the culture wars and motivate them to cull the Truth from scripture.

Amen.

Meeting Rick Warren

2007-04-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

My husband and I met Rick Warren today, and I told him, rather gushed, that Saddleback had helped our marriage. He gave us both a bear hug. It was pretty neat to meet our world famous pastor. I would have loved to have ten minutes with him, to tell him what the church means to our lives. Even from his pulpit he’s a powerful, warm and loving man, and manages to touch the hearts of so many. Walking into Saddleback Church is walking into the body of Christ.

“Life is about relationships,” Rich said.

I wish I had my life over to build those relationships I let squander. I believed for many years that the center of my universe was roughly, ME, and that’s all that mattered. But I wouldn’t have realized that—I would have been offended if anyone suggested such a thing. It took Jesus to show me that piece of hard evidence in my life. All of my motivations were wrong. I had no biblical principles to refer to while I was driving my life car. Now, on the fast track to understanding the Bible and the Lord’s desire for me (and my family), an entire perspective on life has bloomed like a spring rose. Who knew about Grace? About forgiveness? Who knew there was community and connection with other people that went deeper than a few beers?

I told some ladies at my bible study that they took for granted growing up in a Christian church—raising their children in the body of Christ. They understood when I told them I was a Ruth not a Naomi. I was the foreigner worshiping false idols.

Rick said something else today that touched my heart: “Learn contentment.”

I thought you could buy it, write it, drive it, work for it, meditate on it, and eat it, but I never heard the phrase, “learn it.”

He asked us to question what we spend our time on, if its “worth” that hour of our life. When I think about the time I wasted on junk, on sin, on toxic beliefs…hours and hours and hours, turning to days, weeks, months, years…on nothing, “utterly meaningless!” to quote King Solomon.

“I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my work and this was the reward for all my labor. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

I don’t know why I squandered so much precious time, and neither did King Solomon in all his Glory, but I’ll never waste another day in toil and regrets. Jesus will lighten the load, and show me the way. He’ll teach me that Grace is a two way street.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heaven.”

Ecclesiastics 3:1

American Idol - Sex on Prime Time

2007-03-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

Last night on American Idol, one of the contestant's outfit was totally inappropriate for prime time TV, and not wearing a bra while strutting in stilettos makes this viewer wonder what happened to family entertainment? Even Simon Cowell made the comment that people wouldn't be remembering her for the song. So here we ago again. Once again networks take the low road. American Idol is selling sex not singers and it seems completely acceptable to everyone while Simon Cowell titillates "You naughty girl," and Ryan Seacrest all but falls into another idol's exposed double DD's.

It's too bad, really, the message they are sending to the young fans, especially the pre-teens: expose yourself for love and attention.

How can we protect young viewers who are broken and desperate for attention--for that whole pop-culture-ga-ga over me syndrome? Turn it off? That option bothers me because everyone likes to get in on American Idol around the water cooler.

It's interesting to note the American Idol men are dressed modestly. The double standard lives on. For women, sex it up, for men, use your talent.

Shame on them, and on Fox network.

Sir Paul and Starbucks - Billionaires in Bed

2007-03-15T13:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm a longtime Beatles fan. I even collect memorabilia. I love the Beatles. I love Paul. I'm just confused. Why would Paul, who is worth about a zillion dollars sign a record contract with Starbucks, who already has a gazillion dollars and a gazillion coffee addicts (self included)? Why didn't he help out a struggling record label?

I'm stuck. I'm scratching my head over this news item.

Macca Switches Record Labels...

Mrs. Baker

2007-03-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

The elderly are often the silent victims in our society. After watching the news this past week about Rose Morat , 101, of New York being brutally attacked coming out of her apartment—on her way to church, I felt the Lord pressing on me to tell another story. Not so dramatic, but a crime none the less.

Last week an elderly woman entered my business office. Her name was Mrs. Baker and she was extremely upset. She was obviously confused and over heated, and looked very frightened. I had her sit down and after a few questions, identified that she was in dementia, possibly she had Alzheimer's. She handed me a prescription for physical therapy and asked me if she was in the right office. Well, she wasn't.

I called the phone number on the slip let them know that Mrs. Baker had come to the wrong office. Then I tried to explain to Mrs. Baker where that office was located, but she was confused and couldn't seem to grasp the directions. There wasn't anything I could do but drive her myself. I wasn't going to unleash her back into the world. I told her I'd take her down and walk back, since it was just a few blocks away. She was very concerned about me trekking back, but I assured her it wasn't that far.

We went out to the parking lot, and she showed me her car. I thought I'd seen this car before, like every day since I park next to it. My suspicion was correct. I couldn't get the keys to open the door, and then she tried, with no success. I asked her if she was sure this was her car, and she said, yes. She owned a 1985 gold Mercedes, and she even knew the licence number. I asked her to look into the windows and see if it was her "stuff" in the backseat, and she said she thought so as she walked to the back of the car. She rattled off the number, and sure enough, it wasn't her car.

I asked her where she'd walked, and she wasn't sure. I pointed to a few areas, but nothing was clear to her.

The only clue was that she'd said she'd been walking for over an hour looking for the office. Over an hour covered a lot of ground and we couldn't go walking in search, especially since she was addled and it was hot outside. I settled her into my car, and we drove around our complex, down the road, up again, and around the building, and sure enough there was a gold 1985 Mercedes! On that score she'd been right. Once we got into her car, I drove her down to the right office. Two things should not have been on the road that day. Mrs. Baker or her car. The car was a dog even with the "peddle to the metal."

During the short trip down to the right office, she told me she'd been very independent, and had worked all of her life. She said that her grandson was supposed to have taken her to the doctors but he's too busy now with a new girlfriend who "doesn't like her." She agreed that maybe next time she should call a cab. I worried and fretted all day about her getting home after her appointment, even though I told the other medical office that she shouldn't drive herself.

I was amazed at what Mrs. Baker did remember. Her car license number (I don't know mine), details of her past. She shared her frustrations for being so feeble now, and that she'd recently taken a serious fall and that was the reason for the physical therapy visit. She said it was terrible to have to rely on others when all your life she'd been on her own. My heart ached for her. She could not remember where she'd parked her car, but she could remember that she was once independent--vibrant, young, free to do as she pleased.

Every single day we have to thank God that we're still able to get up and get going. Even though we don't want to go to work, thank God we have a job. Even though we'd rather lay on the sofa with the remote, thank God that isn't all we can do.

Her situation hit home hard for me. As my own father ages and has issues with his health, I wonder if he should find himself forgetting where his car is parked would someone lend him a helping and kind hand? More likely, they'll be angry rather than compassionate. Inconvenienced rather than helping.

"A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So, too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?"

The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him."
Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

Luke 10:30-37 (NIV)

Idols To Prove My Point!

2007-03-14T09:15:00.001-07:00

My last rant was over half-naked women on magazine covers and the effect it has on our dull-over-desensitized eyeballs. I said that women are willing to show it all for a little money and fame. They’ll even do it for free! And they’re younger than ever.

Now go to the past weeks on American Idol. One of the idols ended up on the Internet--half nude in very suggestive poses, leaving little to the imagination. Forget the sob story of how the "ex" put the pictures up, as in this writer's opinion they should not have been taken in the first place. Whatever the reason for the pictures, she a victim of my Eve theory.

After the pictures hit the internet she was the "new sensation." All the major news broadcasts where "hailing" her instant success., lauding about her offers from Playboy and Hustler.

OH MY GOLLY GEE... That poor girl!

Listen up ladies. Your daughters are watching American Idol! They want to be the next American Idol. Now they have a clear message as to HOW to be that idol, thanks to the media. No doubt anyone who has an internet connection was typing in the name of that idol. Our young people will not reason with an adult mind that explains that the media jumped on those pictures and propelled her to stardom, nor will they consider that once those pictures go up, they never come down. They won't "get it" that posing in Playboy and Hustler is disgusting and desperate. They will not understand that that what this idol did (posing in the first place), and the way American Idol handled it (not kicking her off) was WRONG.

American Idol is a family show, and on that merit alone, she should have been kicked off.

Now, this idol is a beautiful young lady and I hope she has a great career--SINGING.

My previous rant was played out right before our very eyes. I urge all mothers and fathers to use this opportunity as a springboard to dialog. Don't brush it under your ever busy rug of things that never get addressed. Your pre-teen daughter has access to a digital camera (it's probably on her phone) and to My Space. Thanks to American Idol many young girls will offer up the fruit without realizing the severe consequences of their actions--and doesn't that just serve Satan's Kingdom?

Just Say No...

2007-03-05T21:53:00.000-08:00

I stopped buying magazines just this year because every cover seemed to sport a half-naked, perfectly formed young women sprawled on the front. Every year the images become more and more risqué. What is now considered a woman’s magazine, in my dad’s time would have been a man’s magazine—and kept under a bed!

Next time you’re in the market, look at the magazine racks with a critical eye. You’ll be hard-pressed to find even one that doesn’t have a young woman spilling out of a sexy bra. I don’t know what a half naked woman has to do with meatloaf but she’ll be on the cover of a magazine with that recipe inside.

Satin has never existed in a better era to be in advertising. He’s loving it. He knows that we’ve all become desensitized to sex thanks to Eve eating that fruit. She unwittingly spanned the current generation of women who are willing to show it all for a little money and fame. They’ll even do it for free! And they’re younger than ever.

You might think, sure, my daughter is only ten, but the revealing jeans and crop tops, the makeup and sexy outfits is the style.

Satan does not want you to question the morality of style, or what’s on television, in print or on the internet, and if you do, he’ll quickly remind you of the religious right, a bunch of kooks, and don’t forget your freedoms! Or, you’ll rationalize that these are modern times and modern times have nothing to do with morals or modesty, that your husband isn’t paying any attention to those “Desperate Housewives” and neither is your young son (even though you really don’t know what he does on the internet). You’ll live in denial that your husband isn’t looking for pornography online when you’re not around and you’ll never EVER connect advertising and television with their lusting hunger.

Now, hold on Debra, you wrote sexy romance novels!

Yes, I did. But I don’t now. I wasn’t reading the Word, then. I didn’t have a clue. I was an Eve recruit!

Groan.

When I first started writing romance, I wasn’t writing sex scenes. That came later, when I learned that editors wanted sexy novels. I sold out. I’m a woman, after all.

I’m seeing things very differently these days and the Lord has pressed it upon me to write about what I’m seeing. So, I’ll get back to our morality, or lack of it, and let’s talk about the Internet.

Satan is in his glory with the Internet! There anything goes, and he doesn’t have to travel around to find liquor stores to market his lewd products.

Those reading this might think, sure it’s out there, but I don’t go to those websites, and aren’t you just a little radical in your thinking, now? What are you an Evangelical right-wing nut? Besides, I only read the news on the internet, maybe look up the weather.

Satan loves this reasoning. He’s carefully placing really risqué ads on innocuous websites, like the news, or the weather channel, knowing that people will be unaware that the slightest provocation will trigger lust, and then it’s a click away from hard core pornography. He also knows that one image isn’t enough, that it’s an addiction, that it’s destroying families. Images are never enough. If you think they are, Satan is really happy.

Okay, hold on there, you say. You know some perfectly normal guys who have large collections of pornography on their hard drives and they’re not hurting anyone. Wrong. If you’re looking at pornography you are tearing down God’s Kingdom because you are giving to Satan’s. If you can’t buy into my preaching, okay, how about the human level? Pornography perpetuates victimization. There is no way anyone can discern between the women who wanted to pose from those who had to—to support a habit, even survive. Nor can anyone control the age of the women they’re viewing. If someone looks at pornography, they’ve at some point looked at children. That not only makes it a crime but the worst kind of victimization. And pornography makes men dissatisfied with their wives; it’s why they’re on dating service sites looking for a hookup. Pornography takes away contentment and intimacy. If a man’s viewing porn, he’s not having satisfying sex with his wife. Period. If he thinks he is, he hasn’t spoken honestly with his wife in years.

Women must start by undoing the damage done in the garden, and one way is through the mighty dollar. Stop buying magazines that use lustful covers. Don’t watch TV shows that present gratuitous sex. Use internet filters. If you have children, lock the computer in a room that they can not access when you’re away. Make an agreement with your husband that neither will use the computer when home alone, and never when the other one is sleeping. Monitor each others activities on the computer the same way you monitor your children.

Sound easy? Try it.

Bag

2007-02-27T17:01:00.001-08:00

Everyday feels like the same exact struggle, inside the same bag, punching it from the inside, never breaking through to being the person you really want to be.

Growth is so small…so finite that, sometimes, you think you’ve missed it altogether.

I’m certain God wants something better for us, but what if we never find it…what if it’s never revealed? How do we cling to the faith that He really is in control?

The Devil Made Me Do It

2007-02-17T10:48:00.000-08:00

There are some people who are confused about “our” conversion from pseudo-Hindu-new-age-guru-false-teachings, to Jesus Christ. I understand it, though; because I thought Christians were kooks, didn’t have the “higher knowledge” and were deluding themselves to think that there was only “one way.” This litany was fed to me by Satan.

I’ve since learned something about Satan and his army, and how he works in the minds of unbelievers, fence-sitters and pantheistic thinkers. He drills them with the same questions. How could a God of love do what He did in the Old Testament? The idea that God is a murderous dictator is enough for thousands to deny Christ, and score those thousands to Satan. One of my own arguments was, “How can a God of love put the bad child in the flames when our early parents love us unconditionally?” This is one of the primary arguments I wore as a badge of proof that my pantheistic ways of thinking were accurate. Score another one for Satan.

Unbelievers, fence sitters and pantheistic thinkers don’t believe in Satan and that’s exactly what he wants. If you don’t believe in him, he’s free to run your life.

Checking out of a Cult

2006-12-01T08:20:00.000-08:00

A cult is any group that holds you mentally and spiritually hostage and lies to you about truth.

The first sign you’re in a cult is when you’re told (quite often) you’re not part of a cult, and they usually have a darn good argument to prove their point. Cults work hard to debunk the theory that they are a cult or a sect.

Ironically, even after you leave a cult, you might continue to deny you were ever in a cult. Admitting the "cult" part is really, really hard. Especially if you’ve defended your cult for years, lost friends, family members over it, created strife for your children who were marginalized for being “different,” and the list goes on. It’s hard to reconcile with the fact that you christened your child into a cult and their cannons. That’s scary stuff.

Frankly I’m surprised there aren’t more suicides by people who leave them. It’s an isolating experience because you have no where to go. The last thing many ex-cult members can accept is another teaching, church or philosophy. Everyone becomes suspect. They can roam around for years in a state of denial. Some people might become atheists because they just don’t want to take a chance that they’ll get it wrong again.

You have to understand that part of being in a cult is watching out for the kooks in Christianity to justify your cult. You also know, and sometimes memorize all the gruesome suffering that’s come in the name of Jesus Christ. Christians call it apologetics, cults call it TRUTH.

Their ego is gigantic. They probably think they're God, and well, what can you do with that?

The minute someone utters the word "cult" people in them tend to shut down, turn off, walk out and disassociate with the word. You might stop reading right HERE. That’s because the word CULT immediately brings to mind Charlie Manson and Jones Town, and, well, you’re certainly are not part of something so evil. That’s front page news evil. That kind of evil isn’t so insidious. It takes out a few people and it’s over.

Savvy cults aren’t run by psychotics; they’re run by ordinary folks. Nice folks. Good looking people with pleasant homes and nice cars. They live next door. They take care of your cat when you’re on vacation and bring you casseroles when you’re sick. They’re your friend, your brother, your mother. They could be just about anyone, and that’s really daunting.

The good news, and please excuse the opportunity to use that phrase, is that I was inspired to write about my own experience and you'll see more of it here in the times to come.

Being a writer, I've never had a problem telling my stories, but this wasn't something I could so easily write about. I had to face some truths that were painful. One doesn’t just walk away from a belief system. When you’re taught something, study, mediate, focus on something for years, it takes root. You might cut the weeds by no longer attending, but the roots are still down in the dirt and it doesn’t take much water to sprout doubts.

Here's what I can say for sure I can show another cult member the way out. It's not by preaching the Bible to them. Cult members can't hear that truth. They're brainwashed into thinking they're special and chosen. That's a powerful, euphoric emotion. The road to Damascus for cult members isn't usually revelation.

Blocking Mantras

2006-11-24T14:19:00.000-08:00

I’ve been blocked as a fiction writer for a long time. I’m thinking about three years, easily. It’s no secret. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not writing anymore.

I’m pretty sure where the roadblocks were thrown up, and it’s a shame to leave all this talent to mold. The big block came from being broke. No money came from writing. I told myself I had to give it up because there was no hope left in the sponge.

After two years all I got was debt. I wrote, “It’s time for money. I have to walk away from my dreams.”

Sometimes it seems impossible to write anything new. Fiction seems unimportant to me…I can’t even read it anymore.

I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever be able to write with the kind of passion I used to write. I have evidence of that passion. Drawers full of floppies, hard drives loaded down with the stops and starts of novels.

I don’t have the manuscripts anymore. I threw them out—breeding as they were, paper fleas and dust. I have most of my research library intact, but with the Internet I’ve thought of weeding that out, too.

Sometimes I think about writing a biography. I have a lot of stories. Some I’ve written already…link them together somehow and produce a manuscript of epic importance. A slice of life—coming of age kinda story about stinking cows and Brew 102.

Sometimes I think about writing for Jesus.

Other times I just long hand in a journal lots of nothing ideas and thoughts and perilous dreams.

Father Knows Best

2006-11-12T14:28:00.000-08:00

Jane Wyatt died recently, which saddened me. I loved the Anderson’s of Father Knows Best. They were the family I wanted.

Every evening Robert Young, who played Mr. Anderson, would come home from work, take off his sport jacket, put on his comfortable sweater, and deal with the everyday problems of a growing family. I imagined him as my dad. He’d sit me on his knee and ask about my day. He’d help me with my homework. He’d call me “kitten.” He was so handsome and perfect and really cared about the daily life of his children.

Not my dad. He’d come home from work, walk right by us kids, make a high-ball, and sit in his Easy Boy recliner with the Long Beach Press Telegram. He was always too tired for us.

Dad was too busy, too tired, or too worried for us, and we weren’t to bother him. My child’s mind thought he had some big important job that wore him out, like President Kennedy’s. While dad defused, my mother started dinner. We were usually relegated outside, or in our bedrooms until dinner was ready, and warned to “leave dad alone.” That was my mother’s mantra.

He didn’t beat me, or anything dramatic like that…but he wasn’t always emotionally present in my life.

He missed out, my dad, he missed out on building the kind of relationship God wants us to have with our children, and he continues to miss out.

Relationships are like bank accounts, you have to make deposits to later take withdrawals. Dad did his financial duties, food on the table and clothes on our backs, but he didn’t invest much into our hearts.

I’ve long ago forgiven my dad for his missteps in parenting, but I’m still hearing my mother’s mantra to “leave dad alone." As he ages and has some health issues, leaving him alone is no longer an option.

Judge Not Least...

2006-11-05T19:24:00.001-08:00

Last night my husband and I walked to a local Oggies Restaurant. It was packed out the door, and there were children running all over the place. We really hesitated waiting for a table but it was getting late. All we wanted was a somewhat quiet table, not expecting much on a Saturday night in Mission Viejo.

An entire soccer team was running helter-skelter, appearing with money for the candy machines and video games near the front door, disappearing and returning again, like a wave of mischief. Most of the kids were overweight and had no business at a candy machine. All of them were on sugar overdrive. At this point we weren’t aware of their parental origin, but the kids were running from the center of the restaurant to the foyer, to the bathroom, to outside and back inside, screaming with glee. Some were unsupervised in the dark parking lot—one fat boy laying half on and half off the meridian in some kind of satiated stupor.

Once we were seated, more trouble found us than just the cacophony. Behind the booth was a room full of arcade games, and why they sat us there is one of the greatest mysteries of the night. Children were packed into this area like sardines, spilling out around our table.

I told my husband this was a wonderful opportunity to be patient and not judge. After all, we were both working in these areas. Isn’t interesting how God tests our intentions?

One particularly boisterous young man began to bang on the gritty window behind us, and when we turned, he waved. Fine. Hello. But then he kept banging, deliberately trying to rile us. It was working. The hair was standing on the back of my neck and I noticed my husband was grinding his teeth.

This throng of children were gleefully running and screaming, skipping and jumping as if they were at a play ground and not in a restaurant. In and out these kids went into this arcade with an endless stream of money, their eye balls spinning around from sugar and over stimulation.

Seated in the middle of the room were four sets of parents. The adult foundation seemed to be floating on a beer haze, giggling and gossiping and tittle-tattling as loud and annoying as the thunderous soccer team they’d inflicted on Oggies.

A couple of things came to my mind. Who was going to drive these children safely home? What horrible parents I thought! They’re drunk and not supervising these kids, and to boot were hogging five tables (slid together) while there was a 45 minute waiting list!

What message were they conveying to these young minds? It’s okay to run around, bother other diners, spend loot on cheap candy, pour money into video arcades that you know they didn’t earn, and it’s okay to get into a car with a bunch of drunk adults!

It’s true my daughter is now an adult and lest I sound like grandma who walked ten miles uphill in the snow, but as I recall when we had a gaggle of kids, we went to Chucky Cheese. And, we didn’t get slouched when we were supervising them!

By the time we left, nothing had changed, other than these parents had bought another round of pitchers. The kids were now slurping on hot chocolate while they continued running rampant. I felt genuinely sorry for everyone in that restaurant, especially the servers who were trying to keep the horde under control and appease annoyed diners.

By the time we left I thought we’d done pretty good with patience, but I’d failed miserably with judging. I really didn’t want to judge these people.

I really, really didn’t, but I did…

Retro Halloween

2006-10-31T11:29:00.000-08:00

Trick or treat,
smell my feet,
or give me something good to eat.

Halloween, oh please wax those little girl memories...most certainly wanting to be a grown up woman in mom’s clothes, hours applying makeup, and with the finishing bright red lipstick! Complete with a faux mink stole and a sling purse with a snap!

Eager for mom to get dinner on the table. Her one rule—eat before we leave.
Could she be any slower getting those weenies in the boiling water?

Hurry! Hurry! The night is growing old! Grandmother visiting, tanked on beer and tomato juice and talking up the days, masquerade balls and top-drawer parties. An officer's wife included invitations--but “cow country” Buena Park, void as it was, of any real “down town,” or culture.

One last whirl for everyone’s approval before charging into the foggy night, laughter the only residue, our pillow sacks empty, streaming behind us like spineless hungry snakes.

The night young--life forever on a Halloween eve, not a care, not a thought beyond treats and treasures and spooky endeavors!

Nothing reflective to wear, no flashlights or glowing pumpkins, not one store-bought costume! No warnings about safety, razor blades or poison candy, or unwrapped treats. Just charging across traffic, jumping fences and hedges and eating whatever we grabbed out of our bags. Three miles in mom's shoes, busting a heel, skinning a knee and the palms of my hands soon raw and sticky.

Boys were jumping out of bushes, girls screaming, madness and mania on our street, and no parents supervising the antics. Goodness no! Walking and knocking, giggling and digging for newly acquired sweets. Popping Double Bubble, showing off Pixi Stix purple tongues, and wanting more Boston Baked Beans, Bit-O-Honey and mini Junior Mints.

Don't forget a stop at the haunted house on Thelma Street,
With its hand trust straight out of an old cement watering trough and holding a rusted hatchet! Or the witch’s house! She’d drown kittens every spring, or smack them dead with a hot iron.

Hours later, Jack o’ Lanterns silent, lights out, total exhaustion and home we’d travel, dragging a ten pound bag behind us. Wearily we’d spill out our treasures, spreading our loot into piles, comparing, tossing out candy corn, apples and counting pennies well past our bedtimes.

Trick or treat,
smell my feet,
or give me something good to eat.

Pigeon Affairs

2006-10-30T17:53:00.001-08:00

For years I've noticed a flock of pigeons that gather on a traffic light post stationed on an off ramp that intersects with the 5 Interstate freeway. There are four lanes of traffic on that street, along with the off ramp and below the bridge, the freeway. The noise and air pollution must be abhorrent, but these birds sit there day and night oblivious to the congestion, noise and smell. Just to their left is a patch of pine trees, which might give them some respite, but they don't seem to notice. With their wings they might go anywhere, maybe a few miles south to the Pacific Ocean, a few miles north to the mountains, but they never move. Whenever I see these birds I'm reminded of human self imposed limitations and how we don't move far from our perches. We get up and do the same thing day in and day out, even though the environment might be noisy, polluted and the route congested.

It's really hard to get up and out of ourselves, and not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, to try flying to the left, the right, north or south. Instead, we watch the sun rise and set on our lives without ever expanding our wings to our full potential.