Hi T&L,

I'm going to work now, but in case you missed me, I'm reading.

-AD

I HAVE been wondering where you were, and am glad you're still Slogging Through the Saga. That'd make an OK title for my life, too, wouldn't it?

In case people think I'm insulting HP by calling him a clam, I'm actually not. In addition to his childhood traumas, he had an illness before he was 10 which required that he be completely bedfast for the better part of a year...which year he spent reading books, primarily about his Indian heritage. He developed great admiration for their stoicism, and determined to develop himself into a man of few words, also. He has certainly made a spectacular success of that particular endeavor, I can assure you! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/mad.gif" alt="" /> Clam and Portuguese don't mesh too well, just all on their own, and then there were all the other de-mitigating factors added onto that. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />

So I am always reassured by knowing that somebody is out there, and I'm not, in my uncomfortably-and-increasingly-nekkid state, simply doing the Fan Dance of Futility. We Portuguese value feedback. I said "value," not "like." But if it's negative we just "feedback" ourselves. (Some of you may have noticed that. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />) I've never seen a Portuguese have a significant conversation with just himself! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" /> Why would I be the first? I have an ethnic heritage to uphold, I'll have you know! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/crazy.gif" alt="" />

So thanks for letting me know you're there. I'd stay and chat longer, but unless somebody's gonna balance the checkbook for me so I can pay a couple of online bills and get to sleep, I have to leave now and DO IT MYSELF! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/mad.gif" alt="" />

t&l

Yea,

Where are those elves that are supposed to do the dirty work??????

I've been up to my elbows myself in not fun activities~

But I've been reading and thinking of what I'll say when I have time to say it!

I think they've gone to live with my kids' Japanese aunties, who, quite frankly, deserve a break!!!!!!!!! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" />

t&l

Line from song -
"If I could only go back again"

When I married, I honestly believed that it could, and would get better every year. I wanted it to, and she wanted it to.

However, we didn't have the skills, and some years it was worse.

Finding MB gave me some of the skills I was lacking. It did take both of us to make things improve, but they have improved. Our love grows, we do things for each other. We date, we take care of grand kids, and spend time with kids. We serve others, we work for a living.

The tapestry - the fabric of our lives grows richer, life is more joyful and more full.

I look to the future to be even better. I would never go back.

Now...............

I keep thinking that HP probably would like it to be this way. I know you would too. I mean, I don't think HP wants to live in emotional limbo - but I can see he may be more comfortable in limbo than in leaving his comfort zone. That is, I would guess he wants things to be better, or different, but is even more uncomfortable making changes.

Please comment. (SS smiles)

What I wonder is HOW it can be done. What would it take.

You have worked at it until you lost hope of change, or until you figured your energy could be spent in more productive ways.

Does HP have faith in God?
Does he live like it? Does his life show it?

I can see you do. Would you mind commenting on what it does for you in day to day living?

On good days, where does your joy come from?

SS

Another myth/fantasy crashing on the rocks...

You mean MY MOTHER did all that work that I thought was done "magically"???? So now I'M supposed to????

Hi CSue,
You seem well these days. If so....... that is good.
Should I bring back your scouting thread so you can say more about camp?

SS

Another myth/fantasy crashing on the rocks...

You mean MY MOTHER did all that work that I thought was done "magically"???? So now I'M supposed to????

Or, you could skip a generation, and teach your kids to do it. Also, Husbands can help a great deal if they are trained right. I can send you the whip my W uses. I am sure she could buy another one.

SS

Wow! And I thought my KIDS were the Quintessential Questioners! Tell you what, I'll sleep on it. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" /> I'm going to hate myself already when it's time to get up for work this afternoon. No sense in making it any worse by staying up even longer! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/crazy.gif" alt="" />

t&l

Sweet dreams

SS

SS!!!

You're back!!!

Hi!!

Hmmmm...I like your idea of training the children!!

Actually SS,

Friday morning I should have time to post more thoroughly!

I've been doing "drive-by" posts!

I recall having some followup to do on that Scouting thread! It's near and dear to me!

As for training children.......

One of my teenage boys was having a fit about something, and my father was watching me deal with it.

When son left the room, my dad smiles a really big smile, and says "You didn't beat those kids near enough"

I never have been able to figure out if he was teasing, or serious. He never beat us........ hardly ever. In fact, I can't remember him ever doing it to me.

It's good to see you again.

SS

I was able to copy this from Idiotville much easier than I was able to copy it from the manuscript I'm working on in my computer. Why is that? At any rate, you may spend all the time you like today hovering near the toilet, now that this little task is taken care of. Tell the Roil Princess that Noah sends her a kiss...blown across the lake. And she doesn't have to blow one back, either!

Here is the chapter portion of which I spoke...


Chapter 19
“Move aside! I've come to take personal charge of the situation.” Satan swept his underlings aside as if they were nothing. “What part of 'move' don't you understand? He's coming this way, and we've got to be ready.”

Ever since his stunning defeat at the Temple, Satan had organized an information network to send an alert every time it appeared that a needy human might try to intersect with Jesus. At the slightest indication someone was merely thinking about coming to Jesus for help, every effort was made to discourage them from even making an attempt, or failing that, to prevent the meeting from actually taking place. The task force leaders handled this part of it, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing, but their standing orders were to notify Satan himself if any cases of particular importance seemed to be taking shape. An imminent death in a city less than five miles from Jesus, and in His direct path, certainly seemed to qualify as important.

“Delay Him. Do whatever you have to do, but make sure He doesn’t get here in time. I’ll be waiting right here. I needed a break anyway.” A nervous subordinate from the lowest order produced a comfortable chair, seemingly from nowhere, and the rebel leader settled into it, a terrible smile on his face.

He could smell the rank odor in the little room if he chose, and he did. Watching a death, especially an agonizing, contorted one such as this, afforded him intense pleasure. The suffering of the lonely widow as she tended her only son, she herself on the brink of exhaustion, inflamed his sadistic passions still further. The unfortunate woman had no idea what had caused the sudden heaviness in the room as she bowed even lower in her sorrow.
Each of the frequent reports were encouraging. Efforts to slow the crowd bore fruit, and even if Jesus ran the whole way, he’d never make it in time. Yachne, the town busybody, and the only one who might have helped, had been away and would arrive too late. The neighbors would know nothing until it was over. Perfect, just perfect.

The underling who had brought the chair cleared his throat and stammered a few times before nerving himself to speak. “Er, Your Excellency, I couldn’t help but thinking…”

“And that's one of your main problems, too” Satan snapped, but only half-heartedly. He was enjoying himself much too much to be very petulant. “Very well, what is it?”

“I was just thinking that maybe it wouldn’t matter, even if our Enemy came too late. Remember M—” A giant hand shot out, reached around his neck and squeezed hard, so that he finished with a squeak, “—oses?”

“Don’t speak that name in my presence! And do you think I’m so stupid that I haven’t considered that possibility? But have you seen Jesus raise any dead people yet? Have you? Well, neither have I. Could He? I’m sure He could, but for whatever reason He hasn’t, and I’m sure He’s not about to start here, today, with an unimportant, unknown teenage boy!”

Terrified beyond belief, the smaller demon sought obscurity in an even deeper dimension. In the raucous laughter pursuing his unceremonious retreat no one marked, less than a minute later, the trio of humans turning onto the street, nor realized their destination until they were right outside the door.

I didn’t bother to listen again for a while after that, since every word Satan uttered from then on was even more vile than the one before it. Apparently he hadn’t known that the man, Oded, was Ornah’s brother. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, for the boy was nearly gone and there was nothing any human could have done to delay his final breath. The Guardians only stood by, not interfering, their somber faces giving nothing away.

Once Satan calmed down and realized that the prayers of the big man were having no apparent effect, his pleasure returned. Though Oded couldn’t hear him, Satan mocked him in a way that had every wicked spirit for a mile rolling with laughter. And when the end finally came, I could not help but shudder at the explosion of evil glee.

With an effort, Satan composed himself and stood. “All right, we’ve had our fun. Now get the old busybody in here to hurry things along. It will take careful timing, but we can still have him buried and be gone well before our Enemy arrives. Places, everyone.” The nervous assistant crept out of hiding, folded the chair into hyperspace until it was the size of a pebble, and slipped it in his pocket before vanishing again.

It was rather odd. While the efforts to delay Yachne had worked just fine, once on the scene, she resisted all attempts to rush her. By the time she even found out she was needed, time was very short. It was now getting late in the afternoon, and although her greatest concern was to see the body buried that day, and not have to wait until morning, she insisted that the boy still be thoroughly cleaned. Unseen spirits cursed and tugged on their hair, nearly dancing with impatience as she supervised the preparations, careful that no step, however small, was left out.

“Hurry up already, or I’ll have to bury him myself,” Satan half-shrieked. And when he saw the tiniest hint of a smile appear on the face of Ranon’s Guardian, he went absolutely wild. In the end, prohibited from meddling with the humans, there was nothing he could do except wait, nursing the growing fear that once again he had been caught up in a plan much larger than his own.

As Ornah finally left the house beside the body of her son, the two visiting women holding her lest she fall, word came from the lookout that Jesus was at last within sight of the city. There was no other choice now. Satan strode along grimly at the front of the procession, followed by as many of his troops as he could muster at a moment’s notice.

Tempters pressed close to the grieving family, filling their minds with doubts and questions. “If God is fair, why did He let this happen? Doesn’t he care about us? Jesus has healed so many other people. If He is really God’s Son, why didn’t He come in time? Is God listening? Is He even there?”
Such doubting words found fruitful soil in those broken, aching hearts, and as their mistrust grew, so did the power of the demons, who swelled and stretched, more confident with each passing second. If, by their timing, they could not avert even the possibility of a blessing, there was still an excellent chance they could cause the humans to doubt, robbing themselves of their only hope of a miracle. As long as no one had any faith with which to receive Him, Jesus would be as powerless as if He were bound.

The two companies came to a confused stop, facing each other. Satan folded his arms defiantly, and stood ready to challenge any display of divine power. Jesus did not even acknowledge his presence, walking straight to the covered form on the stretcher. With Gabriel by His side, none of the rebels dared enter a dispute. They just held their breath, hoping that Jesus was not going to do what they thought He was going to do.

Carefully, Jesus laid the sheet back, not brushing against the boy in any way. No trace of sin or sickness, even death, could endure the touch of the Son’s hands. He paused, and Satan knew He was searching the hearts of the boy’s family for a shred of faith. The rebel signaled his tempters to continue pushing their thoughts of disbelief, but they could only remain forcibly mute in the presence of their former Commander.

The mother was in turmoil, and nearly out of her mind from the depth of her loss, and Jesus looked on her with pity. He turned His gaze to Oded, the boy’s uncle, and met his eyes knowingly. Oded, in spite of the many times he had seen Jesus heal others, had given place to the evil whisperings of the devil, and the sin of his doubting was far greater than that of his sister.

Then Jesus bent over Ronan, love showing in every movement, and Oded began again to weep, but this time in repentance. It was enough. “Young man, get up.” His voice was quiet, but the effect on the unseen world was tremendous. What a flapping and wailing went on as the forces of darkness fell back before the mighty shout of the heavenly host!

“Mother, what am I doing here?” Tears came to my eyes at the wonder and confusion in the boy’s face. I knew so well how he felt, to sleep in death and awake face to face with the Creator.

“Use your gift well, dear boy,” I said to myself. “So few of us have such an opportunity as this.”
Of course Peter, aided neatly by Set, wasted no time deciding how this wonderful power of God could be used to further his erroneous ideas of the Kingdom. Most of the tempters were still fearful and held at bay. Set, however, snarled at the Guardians, claiming the right to mingle among the holy messengers because of the sinful pride Peter cherished. And since that was the rule, reluctantly they let him pass.

Tarik was not idle, but it took him several minutes to turn Peter’s mind back to the essence of what he had just seen. Without the work of the Spirit, it would have been impossible. And when Peter finally prayed silently, thanking Adonai for letting him see this great event, Tarik smiled broadly. “Move back,” he commanded to Set, stepping between his charge and the towering demon. “It’s my turn again.”

As the two groups merged and turned toward the city, Tarik noticed something strange. The charge of his good friend, Deron, was behaving in a very peculiar manner. As an enemy of the Teacher, he often wore disguises in order to better spy on Him, and went to great lengths to avoid calling attention to himself. Yet now he was weaving back and forth through the crowd, peering closely at the faces of all the women.

Peter saw him right away, and it took him but a moment to connect him to the suspicious beggar he had seen in Cana, as well as several middle-class businessmen who had come to hear Jesus for a day or two each. Yes, he looked differently now, but the noble nose and hooded eyes were unmistakable, at least to someone with Peter’s abilities. “I knew it, I just knew it!” he gloated. “I’ll be watching for you, my friend.”

Tarik laughed, calling to Deron, “What is he doing, anyway? He usually tries to be so sneaky.”

Deron chuckled. “He’s looking for his wife. It’s a long story.”
\
“Maybe you’ll be able to tell me next time. I’d love to hear all about it.”

I did it, Neak. I remembered what you taught me and it only too THREE tries to get it done right! You can put it on my feminine hygiene products thread. I've used my quota of techno-savvy for the day, and am going to bed.

Where did you get the idea tomatoes and tomato products were good for queasy women? Certainly not from me? You may tell the story if you like. For some reason, I'm feeling Wyatt-y right now.

t&l

P.S. I see the punctuation error. I'll go back and correct it. Don't fidget. You've still got one last crack at it anyway, so ultimately all the mistakes will be YOUR fault!!

When I was pregnant with Neak, I couldn't tolerate anything with tomatoes in it, not ketchup, tomato sauce, tomato sandwiches--nothing. NO tomatoes, not in any format...which was odd, because I'm normally a big tomato fan. I found this out after having a plate of spaghetti one day, when I, um, recycled it back into the plate before I could even get up and leave the table. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/pfft.gif" alt="" /> Never had quite the same attitude towards the plate, either! Pregnancy and tomatoes, even after a hiatus of more than 2 decades, just sounds like a really bad idea! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" />

t&l

OK, just a quick drive-by on my way to bed, to relieve my brain of a stray thought...


Are you trying to imply that they're not ALL good days? <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />

One reason I can have joy (even on bad days) is that God has promised that His "strength is made perfect in weakness." And I give him SO much raw material with which to work!!!!!!!!!! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> Especially on bad days! So when I'm flopping and flailing and failing and sinking, God says that's the time when His strength, His power is at its greatest--which is why the Bible talks about us being strong only when we're weak. I give God LOTS of opportunities to show how strong He is! And His strength gives me joy.

t&l

Hi!!
I can quit asking questions of you want me to. Just let me know.

I am glad God's strength gives you joy. Isn't he wonderful to help us even when we (speaking for myself) often don't deserve it.

Do you understand why I am asking the questions?
Oh sure, I am curious, but I bet there is more to it than that. And yes, I've always been a pain in the rear, but it's more than that too. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" />

SS

When you were a small boy you were like Neakbro, and took apart piano pedals and crawled into bean bag chairs (at other people's houses, no less) because you wanted to know how they worked?

Haven't a clue. May I buy one? <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/laugh.gif" alt="" />

t&l

I'll give you a hint t&l...
SS is a pro at getting people to open up just a little at a time through introspection. Not because he is nosy but because he likes to see people grow and be happy.

Do I get the prize, ss?

Don't tell me I'm going to lose another layer of skin to The POOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" /> <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/eek.gif" alt="" /> By the time I'm done, even the sharks aren't gonna want me. <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/crazy.gif" alt="" />

I only logged on because I had to wait for Neak (the dizzy, pregnant one) to get her bread started so we can go run errands. I'll see what I can get done today, but I'm the speaker at church tomorrow (our pastor moved to NY and we haven't gotten another one yet, so everybody is pitching in to cover the services), and it doesn't seem proper to just wing it up there, and extemporize! So what waking time I have before my early crash this evening is likely to be spent gathering my thoughts into some sort of order.

I was going to title it "How to Get What You Want When You Pray--Every Single Time." But I don't feel like working that whole thing up today, though, so I'm going to focus on prayer from a slightly different angle instead and save the other for another (?) time.

If I'm back, I'm back. If I'm not, at least you can know I was using my time profitably anyway. I think Neak is ready. She just tottered out the door. I shall follow.

t&l