Rx for Winning WWIII

Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882 – 1945), 32nd President of the United States To the Armed Forces: As Commander-in-Chief I take pleasure in commending the reading of the Bible to all who serve in the armed forces of the United States. Throughout the centuries men of many faiths and diverse origins have found in the Sacred Book words of wisdom, counsel and inspiration. It is a fountain of strength and now, as always, an aid in attaining the highest aspirations of the soul. Very sincerely yours, (signed) Franklin D. Roosevelt    - A prologue dated January 25, 1941 in Bibles distributed to soldiers as they left for service during World War II [- -Thank you, PresidentialPrayerTeam.org,  - - ed. AmZyg]

Like This Bristlecone

"The Patriarch"

How they know this Bristlecone Pine, growing somewhere in the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains, is really 5,000 years old, I am not sure.

I am sure that I could have lived in my house for about that long, barring the limitations of shortlived DNA and a husband's proclivity to dwell in a house less demanding of repairs.

Those snarly, craggy roots look familiar. Dry and void of anything functional or nutritious, they nevertheless serve to bar the winds from blowing Old Patriarch over.

I feel that way today, waking up to ponderous prospects of leaving this home of 18 years.

The squeaky hardwood floors, wavy walls, dank smells, awful 70's add-ons, and lone shower in an overused and under ventilated giant bathroom . . . suddenly endearing. Oh the vicissitudes of a broken, emo spirit.

And like the bristlecone, I am bristling under the guilt of Jonah, sick of mind and heart, wishing for a saponin for my protest prone judgements.

Dried out, nonfunctional, wanting to leave but. . . stuck.  I am the bristlecone pine. Old and worn and enduring; a monument to time, but nothing more.

Which elixir wants to try

Now that TwentyTwleve is dry?

I've declared an end to drink

That puts an end to normalThink;

And J and T have joined m'e rite,

God willing, 

Three strands stay the fight.


note to all, from 2015: GoodLuckWithThat.

Sometimes FamilyLifeToday Blows It

As the seedling sets, so grows the tree. . .

An article on How Not To Ruin Your Child's Life has set off a little wildfire of blazing critical comments, mine among them.


Here /was/ the Family LIfe Today WEBZINE article [no longer there]: 
http://www.familylife.com/site/apps/nlnet/content3.aspx?c=dnJHKLNnFoG&b=3576519&ct=11210677&notoc=1&utm_campaign=TFR-20110909&utm_source=CON&utm_medium=Email-N&utm_content=article-f1



Author, Tricia Goyer, could've just modified her tongue-in-cheek platitude with a word to parents to go easy on CONTROLS exercised over family TV viewing, but instead she settled for the lowest common denominator, defending TV as a rite of passage, and our kid's need to fit in with their friends. 

That just got my wee little Zygote undies in a big old amniotic bunch. 

Here's my VISINE comment/REPLY, 
saved in "Drafts" for probably a year. Forgive my decision to preserve its original rantish tone:



"People who plop down on couches for untold thousands of hours of shallow delirium gaping at trivial amusements will answer to The Creator of ALL, for THE HELL their INactivity brings down upon our nation, civilization, and yes, the entire world. 

Our three "poor, sheltered, over-protected, un-secularized" little waifs turned out plenty SECULAR withOUT post-Sesame Street TV, given their friends' music, their friends' TV's, their friends' lovely movie choices, their friends' F-word laden texts and facebook posts, and, sadly, those see-through pants with thongs underneath that the girls AT CHURCH sometimes sport. 

My three TV-less kids are pretty well adjusted adults now, and their contributions to the Body of Christ are probably more wholesome as a result of their continued "chUCK the box" choices.

Could Goyer's defensive stance come from her own searing need to watch her favorite shows? If so, that's no cause to bring the rest of Christendom down with her.


If it's a matter of not wanting to enter the fray with teenage kids who will freak when weaned off TV, well, deal with THAT, don't just christen the whole media choice with a "PASS" because you don't want to face off with the conflict at home. Who is in charge? Christ or CNN?

If she'll attempt to figure out "before the Cross," on her knees, just how the battle is won, voila: there's the theme for her next article. She'll BUILD UP the kingdom with something new and fresh rather than that familiar dirty white flag of surrender I see almost everyday, waving across our church porticos and front yard porches. * 

- - - Anonymous Post, 9/9/11"


My Super Strident Mom Underwear was showing big time that day.

So, after Zygo-Mitochondrializing over the matter, I yet assert:  

modern moneychangers would not do well under Christ's scrutiny should He return to find the Church of 2011 so complicit in their fascination with, no, their addiction TO Network TV. 


If the Body Of Christ IS The Church, if the Church IS the BODY of Believers -- the Priesthood of Believers-- and since our very BODIES are the new living TEMPLE of the Holy Spirit, then our living rooms are seriously the portico at which Christ may well chase out offensive money changers should He reappear here in flesh. 

Our Bodies ARE the temple, our Homes ARE the Church.


Say?? On that note, Hunny? We seriously need to redecorate.


HOney? Honey?

That's "astEroid," my darlin'

Baa-aaa-hhh!

"I want to be the STAR!" - - - says Colleen, chirping.
"Watch OUT, Wise Man #3!" - - me, cracking up.

Silent.

Zygocrite

The house next door,
Aside my hedge.
Readied for more,
But not yet.

It's one thing to know a worldview is right; it's another to live it out.

It's one thing to have core values and convictions; it's a heroic feat to actually live up to them.

Truth will always be true, for everyone for all time. But we will always be, at our core, unfaithful, fallen and prone to compromise. Enough compromise becomes gradual corruption. That's what checks and balances are for. That's what confessionals are for.

That's what this blog is for.

I thought that's what Home-Ed was for, too. To instill "good" into our collective thinking. To ingrain it so securely and deeply that it would permeate the flesh as well as the heart and soul. My family will tell you I fell way short my ideals.  I've learned through our many talks and tangos that my techniques were, and are, sorely flawed; my aspirations a bit more lofty than my skill set allowed.

For starters, learning the depth of God's love for me is a lesson still just out of reach. Secondly, performing good works with the tenacity to make them sync into my character hasn't yet brought me much depth.  The Spirit-Authenticity of love and good works are bold realities that have yet to securly lodge within my soul; so, good luck trying to teach them to someone else.

Exhibit A:
As soon as OnlySon turned 19 or so (a college junior who's dormed at home), the fights we'd "enjoyed" for more than a decade over daily chores and keeping his bed made, evaporated as if merely a ghostlike bad dream.  It was no longer my job to stick it to him. If he hadn't picked up selflessness by now and willingly submitted to Christ as his Lord and Saviour, nothing I said or did was going to fix that, so all issues were officially 'off the table.'

And then I stopped caring about making my bed.

8:01AM Nov. 21, 2011

Sad truth. I am a hypocrite.

Exhibit B:
How I realized this sad fact only mildly involves unmade beds. It hit me hard when I discovered the property next door was purchased by a foundation for housing the handicapped. It was being transformed --retrofitted-- into an assisted living community for adults with Cerebral Palsy. When I met one of the caretakers, I was less than kind.

As per my usual run-at-the-mouth temperament, I told her I was ticked that our house values were low enough already without adding this new development to the mix; and I explained how our prayers for her house had always revolved around a hope that the next occupants might lead a Bible Study in the amply sized living room.

Then I started to cry.  I realized what a flaming contradiction I am.

Oh Great.

So much for my Pro-Life Christian "witness." I had outed myself as Pro-Life only to a point, and Cerebral Palsy folks who can't lead Bible Studies don't make the cut...

... I outed myself as a hypocrite.



I tried to regroup. I asked her to go back to her foundation and see about getting some nice quadriplegic residents with a penchant for theology. Or some drug addicts and maybe an alcoholic or two.

The poor lady. She just stared at me. Smiling nearly.

No wonder Hubby thought we needed to read this
(moldering on bedstand)

I'll bet she's a Christian. A real one.

Little AmZyg, you have such a long way to go.

Editors note: two years later, after crying constantly from depressing sounds emanating from over that wall, found a counselor who recommended we pack it in. Get out. Leave. So, we rented th house out to a youth pastor and his young family, headed north. Then, in my personal opinion, the entire neighborhood ...collapsed. This young pastor and his family were never going to pick up where we left off. Never attended the annual Christmas Brunch begun 15yrs earlier. This shocked me. Barely got to know any of th neighbors. I thought pastors were s'posed to be people persons. Hrumph. Even more shocking, the place went all to weeds. Oh, my poor heart.