Review, Renew, Resume...

More years... Less connection... More knowledge... Less fear... More confidence... Less options... Times change... Circumstances don't... It's always different... It's always the same...

Sometimes I wish I could relive past parts of my life, as the person I am now. I think I could do them better/different/more successfully? Something...


Omnia Mea Mecum Porto

It's better not...

"I don't dare go out," said Anne, in the tone of a martyr relinquishing all earthly joys. "If I can't stay here there is no use in my loving Green Gables. And if I go out there and get acquainted with all those trees and flowers and the orchard and the brook I'll not be able to help loving it. It's hard enough now, so I won't make it any harder. I want to go out so much--everything seems to be calling to me, `Anne, Anne, come out to us. Anne, Anne, we want a playmate'--but it's better not. There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, is there? And it's so hard to keep from loving things, isn't it? That was why I was so glad when I thought I was going to live here. I thought I'd have so many things to love and nothing to hinder me. But that brief dream is over. I am resigned to my fate now, so I don't think I'll go out for fear I'll get unresigned again."

RIP Kitty McNugget

You know, I like dogs. I actually like them a lot. I also like cats. Maybe more than dogs but possibly just in a different way. However, a dog that continually and unrepentantly eats any and all cats that come into it's world will alienate me pretty quick. We had a tiny kitten show up at the barn last week. 

Cute, huh? She was found living on one of the shelves in the grooming area. Several days in a row she was there, eagerly greeting the first arrivals to the barn. Then Theresa takes her to hand and begins to train her and, of course,get attached. One full day she spent following me around and climbing up to sleep on my shoulder the moment I stayed in one spot for any period of time. "We should make her up a bed in a stall or the barn kitchen so Maverick doesn't eat her overnight" came out of my mouth several times in different ways. "He seems uninterested..." "Look they met already..." And so on were the responses. So I caved. I know, that makes me an accessory to the crime, but it's the second guessing that always is my downfall. 

The very next day, I arrive at the farm and there is zero sign of the tiny feline. I'm pretending she went to live at the catretirement farm. That's my view. 

Maybe it's my own creation, but it's a fragile yet safe little world I live in...

Also, if you see the dog, tell him I'm not speaking to him...

TTyler

A letter

Dear deep theologian readers,

 I have a quandary. When a non-Christian (or holidays only/indifferent churchgoers) notices that I don't swear and asks me about it, how do I explain my view point without either; 1. Offending them, 2. Giving the platitudinal phrase "It's a sin." and alienating them, 3. Going into unwanted depths of conversations about heart attitude and motives (especially ones that think they are fine because they don't use the Lord's name in vain, but every other is fair game) and thereby closing any possible door to witnessing further in their lives, or 4. All of the above. 

Any help in this area will be listened to with an open mind and a willingness to learn, though I don't give any promises to use your solution...

With sincerity and thanks,

A worker in a world of darkness and pain.

P.S. 

Please include your credentials and/or verses that backup your answers. 

TT

Flames

Omnia Mea Mecum Porto