SelahV Today by hariette petersen

Worth Remembering, Are You?

SHE WROTE:

"Unless you are famous and put into the history books, it doesn't matter at all how awesome you are or aren't. You have at best 2-3 generations who will remember you. It just is a fact. So spend a good part of your life living for you. You get but one life."

HOWEVER, as I see it, when you are a Christian...you don't need to be famous. Nor do you need to be archived in a history book to be remembered.

For whatsoever you do or say in life is eternally saved by God and stored in His memory bank to be rewarded and kept forever.

Every smile expressed.

Every kindness shared.

Every gift given.

Every encouragement rendered.

Every blessing offered.

Every moment sacrificed.

 

All the lives of every person you've ever touched is celebrated and cradled with all the love you intended it to have in another's life.

 

I do not count all I have done for others as wasted moments;

nor any prayer I've prayed in the middle of the night for friends, family and strangers as time misspent. I don't even expect to be acknowledged this side of heaven.

 

I give because God first gave to me.

He gave me life. He blessed me with time. He trusts me to share the love of His only begotten Son through word, deed, and witness. Sometimes I fail Him, but those times will be forgiven and forgotten.

 

AND SOMEDAY... when I take my last breath on earth, the Lord will meet me and reveal to me that which He counted important--that which He saw that "mattered" to others. And to Him. And life will have been worth living, just for that. ~selahV4today

Save

Making the Right Choice

It's easier for me to make moral decisions than those which demand an exchange of money for comfort. I've often sacrificed my health to avoid spending money we need for other things-- housing, food and security.

And then came blurred vision, glare from lamps, headlights and sun. Impaired night vision. Difficulty reading and watching television. Age. Cataracts.

So, I saw my optometrist who's been monitoring my growing cataracts. He referred me to the specialist and surgeon for a cataract consult. Next week begins my journey for a more visually sound life. Folks have told me that it was the best thing they ever did (even though there is some discomfort and days of adjustment).

The doctor gave me 3 choices for lens replacements. One is the basic, Monofocal Lens which helps me see better but I'll still have to wear bi-focal glasses. Another is the Astigmatism-Correcting Monofocal Lens, which is a step better for long distance, but would still need reading glasses. Finally, there is the best of all--the Multifocal Lens chances at freedom from glasses altogether. Each of the better ways come with a higher price tag. The basic is paid for by the insurance. Do I want to invest that much in myself for the joy of no more pressure on my sinuses? Sinus pressure causes me such everyday irritation due to allergy-related issues. It all sounds so good. Do I dip into our meager savings and get the lenses that make my life easier for reading, for crafting, for writing? No more searching for glasses when I get up each morning. No more cleaning the smears and smudges. Oh, me. 

I just don't know. When you're on a fixed income, frugality is always on your mind. Luxury is secondary--even when it comes to health and ease. Always at the forefront of decision making is the bottom line.

How easy it is to get off track from necessity to convenience and comfort. How tempting.

Don't we do that with many situations in life?  We hear words that appeal for a season. And we find ourselves following a pathway we're sold as right--as best for us, our family, or country.

To believe we can make a difference in someone's life is good, but choices are made personally. I don't know the entire picture for your life. I have limited sight and insight.  I can't make your choice for you, nor you for me.  We must make choices alone. Often, people would like to make our choices for us--to put us on their pathway. Ultimately, others have their own interests in mind, more than ours.

Save

Save

God tells us how to stay on track with Him.  We must be extremely careful where we walk, stand and sit. We need the discernment only He can give us.

Any path we take-- be it conversationally, socially, politically, culturally, morally-- needs to be scrutinized in light of God's Word as a follower of Christ. There are so many people making arguments that meet a majority's acceptance but fail miserably when scrutinized through the lens of God's principles.

I have no idea what I will do at the moment regarding my lenses. It sounds so good to not have to worry with glasses anymore. But I still must weigh the cost--as we all do, with so many things-- our votes, our vocations, our faith.

Whew; you'd think at my age, decisions would be much easier with the choices before me, huh? Surely cataracts don't cause a blurred mind as well as blurred vision. I'm counting on that before next week arrives. selahV

At War with Ourselves

"And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten" Joel 2:25

I feel like something has eaten several months of my life lately. Lack-luster energy. Chronic pain. Trampled emotions. Vacuous interest in issues that seem to take center stage with so many voices and critics. 

Haven't written here in quite awhile.  Simply couldn't force any words onto the page; mindless drivel wasn't worth sapping the limited energy I had. Each time I tried, phrases of comfort and encouragement eluded me. I just realized I've been at war.  With myself.  Each day a battle to breathe, to care.

Regrets mingled with grief as I considered broken relationships...or ones I imagined were relationships. Shattered trust has a way of causing you to question: your perception, your intuition, your vulnerability,  your discernment.  Or the extent of your gullibility...or theirs. 

Their honesty. Their loyalty.  Their concern.

I have lost my appetite for social interaction, where explanations are requested and often expected.

Gatherings--the thought smothers me--with few exceptions: my family, my grandchildren, my daughter, my husband. Isolation is where I breathe easiest. Crowded rooms feel threatening.

I no longer want to get in the car and drive, alone, to my once favorite spaces where strangers dot the landscape. The world seems so hostile these days. Even in the most mundane environments.  Just last week I ventured out to Wal-mart with my husband and witnessed a middle-aged man screaming at a young woman with toddlers gathered around her. They were strangers to one another. It was a very unsettling moment.  I pushed my cart forward into the nearest check-out. I needed to leave. What's wrong with people? I wondered what that lady had done that had provoked such outrage from the older man. 

Seems like so much of the world is angry. Impatient... like the one offended by that driver ahead of them who waits a bit longer than two seconds at a stoplight when it turns green. 

No wonder I'm finding solace in the silence of my own voice. Listening to others without questioning my significance in their space has been interesting. Relaxing. Tranquil. And so I wait.

I wait for the restoration of the Lord. His strength. His direction. His voice. ~~selahV

What the world needs

WHAT WAS I THINKING-- A Horse Tale by hariette petersen

I was driving down Highway 7 (a four-lane highway with a grass divider), on way to town and passed a gorgeous horse outside the boundary of the farmland fence.  It was entirely toooo close to highway where traffic flowed at 70 to 76 miles per hour. 

I made a U-turn as soon as I could, turned around and drove into the drive of Triangle Farms from which I assumed the horse had escaped.  However, their gate was locked and I was gonna have my 13 year-old granddaughter scale it and go tell them about the horse.  But I couldn't do that either.  We saw a big dog which my 10 year-old granddaughter said was a pit bull. A mauling scene flashed before my eyes and I abandoned that idea. So, I sat in the car and tried to figure out how to let the people know about the horse that was inching its way closer and closer to the 4-lane highway.  Finally I decided to just drive up beside it.  That silly horse stood there looking in my side window, and seemed fairly calm.

I got out of the car, and it stared at me a second then crossed in front of my car and started for the road. I waved the oncoming traffic to stop as the horse made its way into the middle of the second lane, where it stopped and decided to relieve itself of its breakfast.  I did my imitation of a "HORSE WHISPERER" and tried to talk her into coming to me or letting me go to her.

Amazingly, she stood still. Cars began to stop in a line.  One driver asked if it was my horse, I said, "No" as I slowly approached her with my outstretched hand.  I clucked and tisked with every step till she let me get her harness.  I walked her back across the road, and prayed to God I wouldn't fall down the embankment as I led her back into the field.  With every step, I'm thinking, "Lord, please don't let this horse step on me."  She didn't and she didn't run ahead of me.  She just let me guide her down the embankment and into the field.  My momma use to say, God protects fools. I qualified.

When I let her loose she turned around and snickered at me.  I said, "nevermind your backtalk... get out there".  She turned and trotted into the field.  There was no way to close off the section of fence that was big enough to drive a car through, and I thought about parking my car across the space.  But when I walked back up the embankment to my car, another car was parked behind mine.

I was going to call the police when the lady in that car said she had already called 911 and I could go if I wanted and she'd stay there and wait for the police.  So, winded as I was, I climbed back in my car... and looked in my mirror at the wind-blown brillo pad of a hairstyle the Oklahoma winds had rearranged for me.  I laughed out loud and told my granddaughters, "I look like a mad-woman."  We drove away with great joy that no cars had been involved in a very bad accident and the horse had been spared.  It wasn't until I was headed down the road that I realized that I'd never led a horse by a halter in my entire 66 years of life.  WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Beyond 2014 Eve

A friend asked me what I was doing for New Year's.  It's the same thing we do every year.  Nothing much.

When our kids were little, they loved to see if they could stay up til midnight and watch the giant crystal ball drop slowly to the ground in New York City.  Sometimes they made it-- but most times they fell asleep before celebratory kisses and hugs were exchanged. Not sure about tonight.

Normally we watch whatever's on television (with the exception of celebrity parties).  Quivering horn-blowers and red-cheeked folks donned in mittens do nothing but steal the warmth of joy from my cozy living room. Just writing about them now sends shivers down my spine.

We don't rent movies, we don't go to parties, and we never venture out to eat.  We don't play cards or dwell on last year's failings.  We don't even stay up til midnight and watch the clock's hands pass twelve. It's just another day-- albeit a day my hubby gets home earlier (the only reason I celebrate it at all).  We won't write resolutions or cook black-eyed peas with a dime in the pot for New Year's Day.

I can't remember the last time I made it till midnight on New Year's Eve. Maybe tonight will be one.

Today I look beyond tonight.  Today I entertain the idea of 2014. I contemplate the "word" I plan to focus on in January.  I like the idea of picking a word and letting it permeate the recesses of my mind-- meditating upon its power.  Some folks set goals. I have none.  I consider what God wants from me. I think about the world and all its challenges and woes. I think about the people God will inevitably place in my pathway.  I think about the decisions I'll be forced to make.  I think about the possibilities and the opportunities. I ponder the difficulties and irritating moments I've endured this past year-- situations I want to release from my heart and soul, so God can fuse peace in the renewing of my mind.  Ah, 2013 is soon to be over and 2014 beckons me follow with plan and purpose.  Micah 6:8 comes to mind:

"He has shown you, O man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God?"

So here I am. And so are you. Can we "do justly"?  Will we love "mercy", not only for ourselves... but for others?  Can we "walk humbly"... and recognize God is in control of every second of our lives?  Can we stand for what is right as we watch the world's injustice?  Can we accept mercy when we fail to follow as closely as we should?  Can we extend mercy when we are wronged and thereby humble ourselves before our Maker and give Him glory in every circumstance?  Well, I don't know about you. As for me, 2014 is prime time to try and live in such a way.  Why?  Because it "is good".  selahVtoday by hariette petersen

Reality of Boiled Frogs by hariette petersen

A COUPLE OF THOUGHTS came to me this morning as I read of those who live life like the proverbial frog being cooked alive as a kettle of water simmers to a boil:

Ignorance is bliss until it is starving.

Apathy is at peace until waves of discontent break upon its shores of neglect. hariette petersen

[Photo credit to: bookbloggyblogg.wordpress.com]

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Broken, Bruised and Bewildered

When our spirits are broken and our emotions bruised, it is easy to become bewildered.

"Is it our fault?  Jesus made it very clear that it is impossible to live in this world and not have the opportunity to become offended.  Yet most believers are shocked, bewildered, and amazed when it happens.  We believe we are the only ones who have been wronged." ~John Bevere

Don't know about you.  But when I find myself licking my wounds over a situation, I invariably question my own part in the scheme of things.  I look forward, backward, and wallow around in the present.  I analyze my feelings before the situation, during it, and the present.  I think long and hard. I search my soul for that wicked way that must be inside me.

I blame myself. 

I do it all the time.  It's me.  I am the worthless one.  I deserve it.  Do you do this?

Perhaps it's because life often blames us for our own troubles.  We make choices.  We decide the course of our lives, don't we?  Not so fast.  Sometimes things are beyond our control.  Aren't they?

Not long ago I found myself in the deepest hole of sadness I'd faced in a long time.  It's like I was carrying a tray of precariously stacked dishes and all of a sudden they toppled and fell to the concrete floor.  I could give you all the nitty gritty details, but it would take forever to explain how each dish, plate, and cup fit on the tray before they exploded all over my world.  Suffice it to say, things pile up.

Pressures.  Trials.  Troubles.  Issues.

When our lives are stacked with too many things, when we assume one more thing will fit on the tray, we are bound to lose something, if not everything, we have stacked without greater thought and consideration.

What causes the first cup to fall?  sometimes it's a word spoken too quickly.  Maybe we get too comfortable with someone and we say something in a clumsy way because we are in a hurry, tired, emotionally exhausted, and are....well, just clumsy. Other times it is the spoon someone else adds to life's tray that starts the free-fall.  So the first cup teeters and we try to right the tray to still its movement and then... uh oh... the entire tray wobbles and begins to pitch.  We stand there looking at the mess and wonder.  Did I say something wrong?  What did I say that created such disaster?  What did I do?  should I have walked slower?  left off that last cup?

"I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood."~Audre Lorde

That's a nice quote-- in theory.  However, what is most important to me may be the least important thing to another.  No matter how tired I am, or how mindless I've become, I must weigh my thoughts in light of anothers.  If...

if I want to keep the tray of life balanced.

if I want to keep from shattering all the peace and tranquility I enjoy.

if I do not want a broken relationship, a broken heart and a bruised soul.

I must remember:  It's not about me.  I tend to forget that-- no matter how hard I try to show compassion, mercy and tolerance... the big "I" has a way of sneaking back into my life. 

Ever wonder how long it takes to die to self?  To decrease so He increases?  I do.

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Intentional Acts of Disdain

You never seem forewarned... you never know when they're coming.

They are kinda like curve-balls.

Like the one thrown at me recently.  It was like having a benched pitcher, who consistently throws slow lobs over the plate, come to the fore and throw a fast moving curve ball right at your head... and when it comes, it not only catches you off guard... it boomerangs back and smacks you right between the eyes.  I was totally shocked and caught off guard when life's latest curve-ball slammed into my face.

Never in my life would I dream this particular person would intentionally and maliciously choose to insult and humiliate me. I would never have considered it.  Not this person...not at this event.  But hey, life is full of curve balls.  And people tend to follow their own desires-- not those of God.

That said, when this situation occurred, I cannot tell you how deeply it cut into my soul.  Gutted.  Every good thing I'd ever considered about this person was totally wiped out....obliterated.  Her entire personna was destroyed. Any integrity I had once credited to her evaporated.  The more I thought about her actions, the more I questioned everything I'd ever believed true and good about her. And...the more I wanted to be completely separated from her.  Severed.  Her action was the straw that broke the camel's back in a decades-long series of forgiven, tolerated and condoned slights, slams and slaps.  I think that was why it pierced my soul.  It carried with it the force of all those affronts before it.

However, this slam came at a time when I was totally and completely exhausted, was in tremendous physical and emotional pain, a time when I had all the hopes and expectation of pure joy and delight to help soothe my wearied soul. Then a jetliner of angst, bitterness and smugness flew head-on into my face.  Out of the blue. No warning.  Intentional malicious insult.

"A stiff apology is a second insult. The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt." Gilbert K. Chesterson

Can't say I can forgive yet.

I am struggling with what to do about it.  How to handle the situation.  It's clear this person has an underlying vendetta of hatred toward me.  A cursory apology will not clear the air.  Some things we must live with for the duration of life.  And God will give me the necessary grace to do so.  Meanwhile, the bleeding has stopped, and the wound is scabbing over.  No telling how long it will take to heal, if ever on this side of eternity.

I believe there are hurts we have in life that cannot be fixed, glazed over or reconciled.  I believe it takes two to accomplish that feat of mercy. And the only place we find such mercy is at the feet of Jesus with a penitent spirit.  He alone can touch the wound and bind the hearts broken by those who find pleasure in hurting others.   selahV

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A Few Thoughts OR Many...

are always limited.  They are flawed. 

My thoughts, no matter how lofty, grand, or loving--they are never enough to meet the least of God's thoughts.

 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

Ultimately, even the most sacrificial thoughts I have still need God's purifying touch. The most descriptive word, the most profound phrase, the most knowledgeable statement I utter is nonsense in comparison to the wisdom of God.  Each of my acts, no matter how kind, generous, or merciful, are far less than the perfection of God's.  In this I know, it is God who seeks the best for others.  It is God who reaches beyond the stars, above the universe, and whispers this earth into being.  His word will never come back empty...void...without power.  His thoughts will reign higher than the great beyond man seeks to explore.  And for all this I am grateful to know that life is not up to me, struggles are not mine to fix, questions are not mine to answer, turmoil is not mine to still.  In Christ I have my peace...in Him I rest.  selahV

When Things Go Wrong

we tend to assume the worst.

One would think when you pay 180.00 a year for a website service that it would have some sort of virus protection on it.  You think it could never crash and wipe out all the years of writing I have done.  You think.  However, since no one I know who has Typepad is having the same problem as I am, I have to assume the worst.

A worm has got into my website and eaten my copy.  It gobbles it up as soon as I hit save or publish or place in a draft.  When I go back to my draft to continue working on the post in any one of my blogs, the worm sucks out the words like a vacumn cleaner sucks up crumbs.  So, before I post anything, I have to be doubly sure that it is edited as I want because I cannot come back to it to re-edit the copy.  When I finish anything, I have to publish it right then and there.  And even when I publish it, the only place I have as an original is in a cloud on Typepad's website url.

Those of you who write blogs every day know what I am talking about.  It's not fun.  It's annoying.  And by the looks of things, Typepad is not doing anything about it.  I hope they resolve it soon.  If not, I will probably be moving to another platform and re-writing all my copy from scratch.  I don't dare take the chance that downloading from the settings available to me would not pass the worm into another composer's system.  Alas, alas.  I should have listened to Glenn Beck and backed up all my writing with that company he uses.  Ya never think it is going to happen to you, though.  So, here I am.  At the mercy of cyber-optics and under the attack of some goofball out in blogland.

Can you imagine if this bug were to get into a banking system and eat everyone's deposits, checks and debits?  Or if it got into the IRS it might be a good thing.  Ha ha.  They couldn't charge us taxes.  Or if it got into the medical records and wiped out the procedures you've had or the medicines you are allergic to.  Or if it got into the Pentagon and wiped out all their data.  Of if it wiped out the prison records and released all the criminals.  Or if it wiped out the control systems for flight control patterns.  Or if it wiggled its way into electrical or utility grids and wiped out their mode of operation?  WOW.

When things go wrong, we cannot assume the worst.  The worst can always be worse than we assume.  And then again, it can be better than we think.  God is still on the throne.  Jesus has still overcome the world.  And I am still here peck, peck, pecking out my thoughts.  The thought of all my thoughts being wiped clean actually is appealing in a strange sort of way.  Old thought out, new thought in.  Hmmn...there might be an upside to this mess after all.  selahV

Do YOU Desire to See GOOD Days?

Do you love life?

Do you want to see days where the sun shines and rainbows form from crystals in the rain-blessed sky?

Do you want to see your seeds sprout, your corn grow, the tares controlled, and reap a bountiful harvest of "good" days?

1 Peter 3:10-12 offers some help:

" For whoever desires to love life
              and see good days,
let him keep his tongue from evil
              and his lips from speaking deceit;
let him turn away from evil and do good;
let him seek peace and pursue it.

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayer. But the face of the Lord is against those who do evil."

I thought about this passage a lot in the last few days.  I wondered when I shared the heartaches I had, the brokenness I felt, the misunderstandings and false perceptions of others toward me.  Does anyone really know what I desire with the words I use?  Is what my tongue utters "evil"?  I wonder this because, when I feel no animosity, nor anger in my heart, nor any ire, nor wish no ill-will against anyone, how are my words "evil"?

I think if I do my best to be as forthright, forthcoming and honest with my words, not hiding behind flattering phrases or pacifying language, is that "speaking from deceit"?  If not, then what must I do to have better days?  Days empty of angry emails, days where the emails do not notify me of canceled subscriptions to my words, days where people are as friendly as the waitress who hopes to gain a tip for serving me.  Days wherein folks I know who hold a different opinion than I, find I have not changed my heart, simply because I share a thought or two from my mind.  Where are those days if my words are not intent on doing the work of Satan in a faith-based community?

Could it be?  Could it be I am in the midst of evil, and darkness and had not seen the forest for the trees of ego-mania and self-centeredness towering over me?  Could it be I am in a meadow filled with thistles, tares and poison ivy?  Perhaps that is it...perhaps the problem rests in turning away from that attractive meadow of brilliant colors, where stately cactus stand ready to prick the life out of me as I pass through.  Perhaps, another path is where I need to turn.  I need to get out of the briar-laced thickets.  I need to get back on the beaten path, one walked by the saints before me, then "seek peace and pursue it".  At all costs.  No matter what seeds are carried and implanted around me.  Then I will find the "good" at the end of each day.  I will find the peace and joy and love by the still waters.  And my heart will overflow with God's grace and love.  Do you desire "good days", too?  Let's see if we can make a few together...okay?  selahV

Revisiting WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS...

I return to my roots and...

I SURRENDER...

My inabilities.

My expectations.

My weaknesses.

My capabilities.  My failures and my needs.

I surrender all of me.  All to Jesus.

I take all my talents which He has so richly given to me and lay them at His feet.  I yield all my gifts to His divine control.  I abandon my preconceived ideas of what He expected of me when I fail to see results.

I wave the white flag and give Him all that I am--the dregs of my endeavors.

He takes my dregs and casts them into His heavenly compost heap and adds some heat to the dung of my offerings.  In time, He takes a seed of His own choosing from that dung and helps me put to death my own desires to sprout and bloom with dreams of becoming a rose without a thorn.  With His own breath my death gives way to life and in the paths of others who demand I bloom as they desire, I burst forth as a thistle in the wind.  Attached upon my stem a banner waves of all He seeks of me and all I can become in the meadow of His choice and design.  A white flag--shaded blue--in honor of His royal purpose for me, I give to thee this day, my readers.   selahV

This post is slightly edited today and dedicated in honor of all who seek to know my Lord through the words I write, in my hope of bringing glory to His name.  It is my prayer that eyes which see this rendering will know the heart of my words and the hope I see in Jesus Christ my Lord.

[For further posts of which I find most joy in writing and purpose in publishing go [email protected], and [email protected]...and [email protected]'Matters]  [first written and copyrighted, on February 1, 2008 by selahV Today]

Defining Moments and Turning Points

Certain times in life define the course we take.  The actual time and date is not as pertinent to us as the character we have when a circumstance intersects with our lives. The people surrounding us in that very moment, and how we act or react to those circumstances, determines the course the next hour is lived, and eventually the next hour or decade.

I've lived nearly 64 years.  One would think I would have learned a lot by now.  I grew up in a strictly authoritarian home.  I loved my dad, as little girls do.  But my dad was a man who brooked no arguments.  His law was law.  No grey areas.  No wishy washy inconsistency.  When Daddy said no...it was no.  When he said yes, it was yes.  Whining and complaining got me no where.  Tears carried no weight.

Our dinner table was set for Daddy, myself, my younger step-brother and two elder biological brothers.  I sat across from my father most of the time.  My stepbrother sat to my right.  My eldest brother sat next to dad, and my middle brotherto his left at the of the table. We did not talk.  We did not share our day.  No one asked what we thought, or what had gone on in our day.

My step-mother never ever ever sat down to eat with us.  She placed the food on the table and served my father whenever he needed something.  If we had bean soup and she gave him a soup spoon, he'd push it across the table and grumble, "if I wanted a shovel I would have asked for it."  My step-mother cowered and scrambled to get him a teaspoon.  Some nights he wanted hot coffee; sometimes he wanted ice-tea.  Momma never quite knew what he wanted, nor did it seem, she felt free to ask.  One time she gave him a teaspoon to stir the sugar in his ice-tea.  It was too short for the tall glass.  He pulled it out of the glass, tossed it across the table and barked, "What good is this?"  Momma scrambled to find him a soup-spoon.  He wanted scrambled eggs each morning, but he didn't want to hear her beat the eggs.  He stood in the middle of the living room and say he needed a tee-shirt.  Momma got him what he stated he wanted.  He never asked; he ordered.  He never said thank-you.  He never said please. He never offered one word of affirmation or gratitude.

After each meal, my step-mother cleared the table; my brothers and I took turns washing the dishes from dinner and all the dishes accumulated throughout the day. Each night I either washed or dried, depending on which my brothers preferred doing.  It was woman's work, after all.  I knew my place.  Sometimes my brothers had other chores, or homework. And I would do both the washing and the drying, regardless of my homework assignments.  Daddy would read his paper, then leave home.  While we did dishes, my step-mother would eat a few cold leftovers. 

My father was an incredible man.  The entire community lauded him.  He was a hard working servant.  He worked as a plumber-pipefitter on the base in Quantico, Virginia by day.  At night he volunteered for the Fire-department and Rescue Squad.  "Such a wonderful father you have," I'd hear people say.  "Such a good man."  I had nothing to compare to "wonderful" and "good".  So I accepted that what Daddy did was what all men did.  They brook no arguments.  Whatever they want is what is done.  All the complaints in the world did nothing for my step-mother, but find her face to his back as he went out the door. She learned to walk on egg shells, and I watched her settle into her place in life.

Defining moments for me.

Defining experiences and circumstances.

Men do what they do.  Women submit.  Women serve in silence, or watch doors slam shut in their faces.  What they say must be acceptable and approved by men, or they'll see spoons they offer rejected, and words they utter rebuked.  They have no recourse. Rules are made by men, and rules are altered to suit men when men choose to alter them.  Women have no opinions.  They have no voice. That was my life as a child.

Somewhere between the orders barked for tee-shirts, and complaints for how eggs were fried, I resolved never, ever to have a man like my father as a husband.  God blessed me beyond any resolve I imagined.

No friends; we are not totally bound by yesterday, because our Lord says he gives us "new mercies each morning". Yet, each yesterday carries its own set of experiences that guide us, inspire and edify us, or...sadly..

destroy us...and put us in our place--without recourse.

No matter what success we have in yesterday to build upon dreams, and life-long ministries, today brings its own intersections of people.  And sometimes...

sometimes we find ourselves sitting at the kitchen table with the family all around us...silenced, without a voice.  It's these times we must choose to shut up or speak up.  To wilt and wither, or stand tall and deliver.  The choice is ours.  It's not always easy;  it's not always fun.  It's not always popular when all is said and done.  But growing in grace gives power to the flower, and strength for each hour.  One moment at a time.  selahV

 

Smacked Down, Rebuked, Admonished and WELL...

overestimated, I suppose.

FRIENDLY WARNING...this is longer than my usual 600 to 800 words.  Should you choose to stop reading and lodge complaint, do so in the comment box.  I may not respond, but I will read it.  Not promising I will publish it.  You see, that way I will not be accused of deleting or altering it. (tongue-in-cheek TIC)  On with my post:

Today I received a very very kind word via automatic subscription from a man I truly respect.  He is among many Calvinist ministers and reformed-thinking Christians I know and love.  In 2006, a former 5-point Calvinist introduced me to the wild and wooly world of internet blogging.  The first time I ever heard of a blog is when I heard of Rosie O'Donnell's diatribes of controversy over gay-marriage.  Imagine that!  I thought web-sites were for folks with tons and tons of money.  I had a computer, albeit an antiquated 1990's model which had been refurbished a couple of times to accomodate web connections with the world beyond my tiny sphere of AOL Instant Messaging and eBay selling.  I had no knowledge of Calvinism or their identification with the TULIP.  I did not even know my friend of many years ever wore a 5-point Calvinist badge of honor. 

Rambling and reminiscing ends.  Point begins.

I don't consider myself a "player" in the interworking machinations of SBC politics...or any politics for that matter.  I'm a lone voice in a very tiny space.  I speak for no one but myself (and my Lord on higher issues).  My friend who got me started in blogging did so because he thought I needed to write to purge the pangs of all-consuming grief over the loss of my 33-year-old son.  My longstanding friend also knew my heart and how deeply I loved the SBC for which I attribute a great deal of credit for my salvation of mind, body and soul. 

I'm going somewhere, I promise.

As I stepped into the baptismal waters of blogging, I discovered that sometimes the water is extremely frigid, and other times uncomfortably boiling.  Very rarely did I find any lukewarm or bathtub temperatures in which to wade, splash about, or drop a line into and sit a spell.  Rarely were there any nibbles on my line.  In fact, one dear Calvinist friend of mine told me after I'd been blogging for several months at the same fishing hole as he, that he'd usually skipped over my words of wit and wisdom.  Can you believe?  Then one fine day he got tangled in my line.  After that, he decided he'd always make an effort to read what I had to say.  We became fast friends, moreso because of God, but partially because I came to his defense in a discussion along the SBC watering-holes of life.  We were already brother and sister in Christ.  I often prayed for him in his ministry and in his studies at SWBTS. He shared concerns on being a young and eager minister in an "established" church.  I still mention he and his family in my prayers today, though I haven't chatted with him in a very very long time.  He got tired of all the quibbling amongst the SBC brethren and retired from blogging to minister to the sheep in his flock and seek the lost in the fields ripe unto harvest. (I know lots of men like him.)

I met other bloggers along the way in the midst of controversy and muddy waters.  Some, I debated ad nauseum.  One in particular, seemed to follow me around and snipe my every remark and comment.  She had this uncanny way of twisting everything I said to mean something I'd never intended it to mean.  She read every single word I wrote and accused me of some rather seedy things.  She presupposed every post or devotional I wrote, was written with her in mind.  I even had a special file-folder for emails she continued to write.  I stopped reading them and answering them, I simply deposited them in the file-folder of fodder.  I did my best to converse and communicate, but ya know?  Some folks ya just need to avoid...you need to ignore...you need to forgive, pray for, and accept as Jesus would.  Then kick the dust from your feet and move on down the road.

I was invited to write for every collaborative blog I was a part of.  I did not beg or push my way into those forums.  I was usually asked to be a part of them at their conception.  As they gained notoriety, and other contributors, my voice and presence was a little more than tolerated for my token view.  Most times, things moved along like a barge on the Ohio River...calmly, peacefully, steadily.  I tried to ignore the logs in the river and tend to the one in my eye.  Whenever I felt welcome in the area in which I wrote, I stayed.  And I wrote.  I even defended those with whom I did not agree at times.  Other times, I remained silent.  I met some very gracious and grace-filled folks along the way.  I've prayed for many I've never met...and they have prayed for me. 

Far more blessings and friends have come my way than warts and toads.  Even ones who might count me enemy, I count as brother or sister.  I may not see eye to eye with them on subject, style, and substance, but I will not question the probability that we will share space at the heavenly feast someday.  The best part about that is, we will each be perfected and complete--one mind--one spirit.  In full and perfect fellowship and accord.  Won't it be grand?

One time, early into my writing ministry, I found that my antiquated computer could no longer meet the needs of my perpetual pecking.  I wrote about it on my blog.  It was near the time, as I recall, that my husband had a major heart attack.  Simultaneously, our financial situation became so grave that I decided the internet connection and my web-service would have to go.  Our budget could not include such luxury.

Out of the blue, an internet friend (who happens to be Calvinist), invited me to lunch in Wichita Falls, Texas. After luxuriously dining at the Olive Garden, she took me to her trunk and presented me with a brand new computer, printer and keyboard.  Before I made it home I was penning a letter in my mind to another internet friend (and virtual stranger, who asked to remain anonymous). I'd met her when I encouraged her to hang tough in the SBC, there was a place for her.  This same person had already contacted me and was boxing up a refurbished computer for me to have "free of charge".  When I told her I was already given another computer, she told me I could let my husband have it for his ministry.  God provides, my friends.  He really really does.  I was privileged and honored to pray for her and her husband when the IMB commissioned them as missionaries abroad.

Within a few days of receiving the Olive Garden computer, a person I did not know sent me his book about his father.  In the book was three twenty-dollar bills.  I could not believe it.  At the time, it was the exact amount I needed to keep my internet connection.  Again, God provided.

The same person who sent me his book, asked if he could share my overwhelming financial strain and health problems with others.  I said, "Of course."  We needed all the prayers we could garner.  Within a few weeks, my husband received a letter from a church in the "southern" reaches of Texas.  The church informed my husband that they'd been contacted about us, and had a ministry for retired ministers in which they sent a monthly love-gift to them in gratitude for faithfully serving  Christ.  At that time, they supported over 179 retiree ministers.  Again, we were amazed at the generosity of God's people in the SBC.  Each month we cash their Macedonian-style gift to us to help us continue the study and writing ministry we each seek to follow as led by God.  There is so much more I could write about all this; it would fill a book or two.

Suffice it to say, dear friends...my journey in blogging far exceeds any one post.  It goes far beyond the import of any one comment in any particular stream. There are times I'd rather not write.  Times I'd rather just ignore the muse which clamors for voice.  Times I'd rather not read what I read about our beloved convention.  The squabbles.  The divisions.  The changes.

I am not perfect.  I do not pretend to be.  I am not wise or intelligent, educated,  knowlegable, theologically astute, or righteously pure.  I have faults and I admit them.  When I wrote a rather innocuous comment on a sister blog, to a particular post, I weighed the impact of its content, the possibility of it annoying some who'd read it and accuse some commenters of trolling and "watch-blogging".

Yet, I also thought that the simplicity in which I wrote it spoke volumes to the substance of the post I'd started reading.  Prior to and upon deletion of my comment, I read it several times.  It's okay that others found it unacceptable.  It's okay that a fellow brother wrote and told me he thought about deleting it before someone else beat him to the punch.  It's okay that folks do not agree with me.  It's a free country.  The first ammendment applies to us all.  And, furthermore, the dime in which another pays to keep a website afloat is theirs to choose who comments and who does not.  And it is, now, equally okay for me to voice my dissent for which my original utterance found itself cremated forevermore.  Below...BEHOLD the comment that seems so offensive it could not be left afloat in the stream:

"Well, Brandon, I didn’t read your post. My mind shut down at the introduction of who Steve is: Director of Acts29 Western Europe.  I said to myself, Acts 29?  I’m not in Kansas anymore. I checked the link to ascertain I was at “SBC” Voices.   Acts-29 is not a voice I am interested in hearing. No offense…".

Testy? yes.  Angry? no.  Pointed? yes.  Elaborating? no.  Snarky? a bit.  Harsh?  hardly.  Insulting? unintentional.  Unequivocable? Yes.  Unclear? No.  Succinct? unquesitionably.  Fallible? of course.  Substantive? debateable.  Without merit? Unlikely.  Pithy?  Most definitely.  Consequential? oh yeah.  Dishonorable?  judge not lest ye be judged.

Confession is in order:  Since I posted my comment, and before it's deletion, I finished reading the larger portion of the post on which I'd commented.  I concluded that my comment met the same criteria as I'd first written it to mean.

UNDERSTAND:

I was a "Southern Baptist" voice.  In a Southern Baptist forum of voices where "most" folks find liberty to confess they drink in moderation, rebuke those who abstain, support those who cuss, admonish those who cannot see beyond a flaw, find sport in calling some Georgia boys the "anti-Christ", yet embrace any and all who are anything but traditional Volunteer Fans, accuse brethren (who give invitations, hand out tracts, and sing Just As I Am) of fundamentalism, hypocrisy, legalism, heresy, and plain old ignorance and fuddy duddiness.  It's a place where SBC leaders are lauded for calling we who "see things", too, senile old bathrobed troublemakers in the twit-less-sphere.  It's where we are mocked for wanting bylaws adhered to, and convention messengers votes to be honored.  It's a forum where writers and contributors feel free to reduce the name of "Southern" Baptist to a racial slur and shameful epithet of heretical proportion which must be endured forevermore.

So, unless I moved to "Kansas" in the last series of tornadoes here in Oklahoma, that is where I dared to post an opinion of disinterest.  If I wasn't in the right forum for speaking as a Southern Baptist then, someone please send me a pair of "ruby slippers".  The yellow-brick road to Oz is more than my old hips can endure.  selahV (a.k.a. The Dragon-Lady)

ONE VOICE CRYING...

is all that's necessary at times. And sometimes one voice is unnecessary amongst the throng of other voices.  While some voices are meant to dialogue, converse, debate and discuss...others are bound and determined to contend.  For the latter, I tend to avert and sit on the sidelines.  Every now and then, I've stepped into the waters of controversy and (as I've stated many times), found the water above my head.  Such is my lot today.

I happened upon a post today that sparked an urge in me to stand against the current of opposition.  One portion stated: 

"As the song says, “it only takes a spark to get a fire going.” It only takes one man (or woman) to take a stand against authoritarianism to make a difference. When the right person begins to speak up and to put feet to their words, it’s amazing how quickly the floodgates open." Howell Scott

Lately, some folk shared concerns and questions regarding my thoughts on various posts.  Some have been "seeing things" change in me.  They are curious as to what is going on in my mind and my world.  Alas, there are some questions that cannot be answered...some arguments that cannot be countered.  No matter how close we've become to one another, some things must be left unsaid.  Or left to other voices to share.  I find I no longer have a desire to tread turbulent waters where floodgates seek release.

One voice crying amongst the throng is but a whisper in the wind when accusations fly and preconceived notions determine the volume of the voice.  Judgment has been rendered.  Case closed.  For me, anyway.

Suffice it to say, I am still me.  I am still standing where I've always stood.  I have not changed.  My eyes are opened a bit wider since 2006.  Some folks I've met along the way have been invaluable in helping me see and understand the changing times.  Others folks I've met do not know me.  They may think they do, but they do not.  They never have.  And, there is nothing wrong with that, nor is there anything offensive in that.  It is life.  It is the way life is.  C' est la vie.

It's definitely not worth losing sleep over, or even typing another word of dissent.  Nope.  Not worth it.  It doesn't affect me personally, anyway.  I am secure.  Sealed. Bought and paid for.  Sanctified and justified.  Holy and acceptable in Christ, my Lord.  I do not need man's approval, nor do I seek it.

Opinions are funny things.  Ones we agree with are acceptable.  Ones we do not, are unacceptable.  Yet even that is debatable to some.  Viewpoints are ostracizing or accommodating.  Attitudes are kind or unkind.  Intention and motives are only pure in the eyes of the beholder, I suppose.  Nevertheless...silence is what one wants, then silence is what one gets.  I am an accommodating kinda gal.  Squeeze me long and hard enough and I will fold like a deck of cards.  Not because I have no voice to cry out...nay, but because I have no desire to play the games some folks play and bend to every wind of doctrine.  I'll find another stream in which to dangle my line.  There are far more fish in the sea than in the streams around stocked moats, anyway.  If anyone asks, just tell them I've "gone fishing" in saltier waters, okay? saint selahV

[A Blogger's Comfort Zone/link]

Where Everyone Knows Your Name

Can you imagine the Girl Scouts of America changing their name to the Greater Sales-gals of America?  The Girl scout mission is to build "girls of courage, confidence, and character, who make the world a better place."  A huge part of their organization is supported by the sale of the famous Girl Scout Cookies.  The cookie sales are not necessarily their mission, per se.  However, the cookies are so reknown that they identify with their organization. Folks love the cookies, and by purchasing them, they help support Girl Scouts fulfill their mission.

If you are a Girl Scout, and love to sell cookies to promote your organization, why wouldn't you want the world to know you are selling Girl Scout cookies?

If you are cooperating with other girls to sell those cookies to accomplish the same end (namely, to build your Girl Scout organization and to help young ladies develop a positive image of themselves), why would you set up a table on the opposite side of Wal-Mart's entrance and call yourself a generic name which no one knows and claim to sell Greater, Creamier and Better Cookies when they are the exact same cookie as Girl Scouts are selling on the other side of the open doors?  Well, the answer is simple...to me, anyway.  You wouldn't.

Unless.

Unless you were ashamed of Girl Scouts.  Or you are opposed to what they stand for.  Or you don't like the origin of their existence.  Or you don't really want to be a part of an organization which sells cookies each year and think Girl Scouts should grow organic carrots and sell them because they are healthier than cookies.  Or you think more cookies will be sold when promoted as Greater, Creamier, and Better. Or you think selling cookies takes away from your main mission--to build courage and confidence in girls, and instill in them a desire to help their communities.  Or you simply want to sell different cookies.

It makes me wonder, though.  When your family has a name, why would you want to change it and reposition yourself against your family?  It makes so little sense to me.  Kinda makes me feel like you don't want to be a part of me, or don't want me to be a part of you.  But again...that's just me.  selahV

Call Me, Uh...

Shall I be a Great Commission Baptist or a Southern Great Commission Baptist?  or a North of the Mason Dixon Line Great Commission Baptist? or an Southern Oklahoma Great Commission Baptist?  Well, uh...I think I'm just a Christian in a convention of Southern Baptist churches who believes Jesus said to go into all the world and tell others about Him and to baptize them in HIS name and teach them to observe all things He said and did, so that they will also go and tell.

Maybe we oughta be "Go-Baptists".  Or Go-and-Tell-and-Baptize-Disciples.

Should I say I'm not a Southern Baptist 'cause well, they use to believe in slavery?

And I'm not a Southern Baptist because they offend folks with their narrow-minded stubborn adherence to Scripture?

And I'm not a Southern Baptist because well, they argue too much and they just aren't perfect?

Yeah!  I wanna be identified with a group of Believers who are perfect.  Oh, wait, not one of us is righteous...outside of the righteousness of Christ. Our righteousness is as filthy rags.  But...there is hope.

"For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus."  Philippians 1:6

Call me, uh...selahV today.  I'm not finished yet.

By No Other Name

I have a friend who is writing a book.  And she's been getting all kinds of advice on what to title it.  I keep telling her that it is her book.  Its content is her thoughts, not someone else's.  Seems to me, if they want to name a book, they oughta go write their own.

I'm working on a book, too.  I've picked its name.  And I have my reasons for its title. Some folks will never read my book because it is me who wrote it and they have a preconceived idea of who I am and what I believe.  My reputation preceeds me.

I love the name of this blog.  I fell in love with my moniker the moment I made it up.   I pronounce SelahV the way the French say, that's life, or such is life: C'est la vie.  I gave a lot of thought to SelahV Today.  Then I started other blogs.  And really, none of them completely tell the whole story of who I am.  Yet, combined, they paint an abstract picture of Hariette Petersen...Christian, writer, wife, mother, grandmother, friend, Southern Baptist, Political Conservative, and enthusiast for various things.  I am interested in the machinations of our country, and the history of my faith. 

Some folks who read my various blogs, know me by SelahV, others by Hariette.  Some see my passion for sharing encouraging words through Devotional Writing and become fans.  Others read an opinionated piece of blather I write and never return.  Some folks like what I say, others, not so much.  It's okay.  That's life.  Even I don't like everything I say (I'm still learning).  Not every person who reads my writing can know me completely.  And often folks can take a pinch of what another is, and make that the sum total of who they are...they do not want to go beyond the "pinch".  Sometimes they don't even take a pinch, they take a smidgeon of what another thinks and form an opinion that way.

I'm not always dogmatic or narrow-minded.  Nor am I always whimsical and ooey gooey.  I state what I know, what I believe about what I know, and sometimes...I speak before I think and say stuff I don't know.  I once had someone call me "The Ubiquitous One" in our blogging community.  I had to look that one up.  I thought.  Is he picking on me?  I was surprised to discover it's meaning.  Who woulda thunk?

I don't think it's possible to actually assign one characteristic to a person and consider it the sum total of who they are.  Do you?  I know some folks who profess to be Christians with whom I wouldn't want to be associated or linked to as "believers".  I know some Republicans who could not possibly speak for me.  Shucks, I know some Southern Baptists who don't believe what I believe theologically, philosophically or morally.  There are even some very notable people who would never endorse my writing and I wouldn't want them to endorse my writing.  "SelahV Today" is life as I see it, today.  And for what it is worth, I am happy with it.  Even if some folks aren't.  You can't please everyone...no matter how hard you try.  I've learned that the hard way.

But, you see, I know that the foundation of my blog, the purpose for which I write, is grounded in my faith in an awesome, forgiving, compassionate, long-suffering, merciful God.  And when I flub a post, He is there with me...flooding me with His grace to make me a better writer, a better person.  I depend on Him.  By His name I am called His child.  By no other Name do I want to live my life today.  selahV

America Is A Cauldron Of Frogs

In that cauldron is brewing a bunch of unsuspecting, uninformed, uninterested, apathetic citizens which are simmering in a stew of totalitarianism.  From health-care purchase being forced upon people and businesses, to food police seizing a 4-year-old child's lunch in North Carolina and reprimanding a mother for neglecting to add a bag of carrots to her turkey and cheese sandwich, banana, chips and apple juice.

Economic liberty is under assault.  We must purchase what the government says or we face fines and imprisonment.

Personal liberty is under assault.  We must eat what the government says to eat and force-feed our children what the government says or the government will seize our choices and force-feed our children warmed-over, frozen chicken nuggets.

Religious liberty is under assault.  Religious institutions must provide medicinal methods which violates the conscience and moral convictions of pro-life, Christians. Chaplains in the military prohibited from reading a letter from their Bishop informing members of their faith that the government is requiring religious institutions pay for abortive procedures that violate their faith. 

If I sit in this cauldron long enough, I'm sure the new rules of government that prohibits deodorant for government employed folks (whew, we're gonna have some stinky soldiers), will trickle down and prohibit me from boarding any public transportation if I dare use my stick of baby-soft Secret beneath my arms.  Taxpayers will probably have to pay for professionally trained dogs to sniff our underarms before entering the TSA body-scan machines and undergoing intrusive pat-downs.

Lord have mercy on us all.

I am quite concerned that the President of the United States at this moment is turning up the heat on the fire beneath the cauldron of totalitarianism in America.  I hate to be an alarmist; I'm not prone to believe conspiracies. But evidence is evidence, and facts are facts.

If the "Twitter", "Facebook", "Linkedin", "Google", "IPAD" Apple generation doesn't wake up soon, their liberties will be cooked as well as their ability to countback change from a twenty-dollar bill. 

It's really not my optimistic bent to get my hair-ribbons in a twist over the temporal properties of this earth.  But as a Christian, I cannot sit idly by and not take issue with the fact that the person in the White House, who is an elected official bound by the Constitution, and his advisors, are dictating what we free-born, naturalized and sworn-in citizens must do.  I do not want to "fundamentally transform America" as per Barack Hussein Obama's progressive and socialistic ideology.  It's wrong.  Flat out, shut-the-front-door wrong.

[AND AS LONG AS I'M POSTING ABOUT LIBERTIES AND ASSAULTS, I may as well add another link on Religious Discrimination in Vanderbilt University.]

Close Encounters (Continued)

Pity parties are odd things.  I often throw mine and realize I have not one soul I can invite.  Who'd want to join me in feeling sorry for myself after all?  I don't even want to talk to me.

Enter the blogosphere...Facebook, Twitter.  There's always someone somewhere to join in commiserating with me.  That can be a dangerous thing for some folk, but I've been blessed by some of those folks who encourage with scripture without beating my head in with Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of verses from their 7-pound Family Bible.  I'm humbled that a person takes the time to care for someone they've never been physically close enough to to even so much as nod at a four-way stopsign.

It seems odd, to say the least, that we find ourselves spilling our guts to people we've never had the privilege of seeing face to face. It's quite baffling when one finds more understanding, and encouragement via internet access than from a person they've shared years of details in an up-close-and-personal relationship.

How can this happen?  Is it true we can't see the forest for the trees?

I never know quite how long to hold a pity party. Occasionally, for me, holding one is what makes life most bearable to deal with an arthritic infested spine, a painful vertebrae, the dreaded day others find joy in remembering Mothers, and the petty disappointments of daily living.  Until the last guest leaves (uh, that be me), I tend to wallow in this time and write.  I write.  I gripe, complain, whine, and consider the bunk stored in an unguarded heart which always seems to surface in my mind when I am at my lowest point emotionally and physically.

Yet, when the tears dry upon my cheeks, and the pity party begins to lose its charm, I rediscover an age-old truth.  By some extraordinary twist of providence, only God can make a difference in disappointments.  Only He is wise enough to give us the exact person we need at that particular time in our lives to deliver His word of comfort.  Only He can fuse the broken spirit, and turn the life-wheels to form a pot worth having from the dust and water of a corrupted earth.

Only through writing, praying, and weighing my thoughts, do I find any purpose for the chaotic friction, fissures, and misunderstandings...if there be any purpose under the sun.  There is a time for everything--a time to live, to die, to dance, to not dance, to weep, to laugh.  Today is my time to mourn life in general.  It's my way of running like Forrest, biking, painting, doing yardwork and purging the closets of my soul.  Since today gave way to self-indulgence, perhaps tomorrow will bring the joy.  If not, there is always the next day--and the next.  For without Hope, without expectation of God's intervention, would there be any sense at all in this world?  I think not. 

There's therapeutic deliverance in thinking, in writing, in praying through discouragement.  God changes me and things seem to change around me.  It's not that I can change the circumstance or fix the situation.  No, there is no fixing what is.  Only living with it as is, and accepting "such is life".  C'est la vie.

It's hard to admit, since I haven't really ended my pity party, but I am quite grateful for the close encounters He brings my way when I least expect it.  I really am.  They often show me a side of myself I cannot see for the trees.  Their pain puts me in my place.  Their struggles help me see my own in perspective.  Their love makes me want to love the ones I'm with a bit more, a bit stronger--with greater tolerance and patience and understanding.

 

How about you?  Has God brought about good from what others intended, or unintentionally intended, as evil?  Have you had "close encounters" from a long distance? selahV

I Don't Believe Obama

waited this long to insist upon his birth certificate be made available.  Not only has he been the focus of "birthers", he's been the butt of thousands of jokes, innuendo and suspicion for over two and a half years.

I was reading several comments on the news media announcements and low and behold you would never believe what I read.  Now the liberals are saying the "birthers" will never let this rest because they will say the newest released certificate is counterfeit.  You know...like other documents are counterfeited.  Like other signatures are forged....like, well....like other government documents...like passports, Social Security cards, and driver's licenses, and currency.  So, do you think this is over?

Before you answer....

Take a peek at the following documents which just came to my attention via email.

 

   to ENLARGE for greater viewing, just click on the photo.

This my friends, tells me that we can trust the speculations to continue.  ANND...as all of us know, that is what TRUE journalists report anyway.  Speculation, innuendo, opinion, angles, slants, political persuasions, and consipiracy theories, wiki leaks, with a few facts sprinkled in between, and interviews with someone who has similar views, to reinforce all of the above.  Such fun is life.

Now...who moved the stone?  Who took time to leave the grave clothes neatly folded as if the person within simply evaporated through them?  Who stole Jesus' body?  Why didn't they bring him out to dispute those wild accounts of lying disciples that they'd seen Him alive again after the crucifixtion?  If those 500 plus new believers didn't really see Jesus, and all those witnesses didn't see Him ascend into heaven, why didn't the ones who stole his body prove it and parade His body for all to see.

Hmmmn, can I get a witness to the living Jesus in your life today?  What exactly has He done to make you KNOW He is real?  That He is no counterfeit?  That He passes the "smell" test of decayed reasoning and logic?  Anyone?  I need facts.  I need interviews.  Someone help me...I wanna be a journalist.

Awh....never mind...I just wanna tell the old, old story and let you believe what you decide to believe.  O'Reilly or Jesus.  Heaven or hell--it's your choice.  selahV

Pictures Are Bogus Things

I was asked to send in a photo of myself for use on a profile page for another website which I'll soon be contributing.

They want one that best depicts me.  Oh my, that is funny.  I am the proverbial pajama/sweats/tee-shirt kinda blogger/writer.  Dare I confess?  Make-up is for Sundays.  Most of the time my lap is filled with grandchildren.  That's the picture in my mind...but, let's face it, they want one of those head-shots that get all cut-off when shrunk to fit the teensey photo that shows up on Facebook.  I feel like sending them a picture of my fingers on the keyboard...that's more like me.

I hate taking my picture.  I never like the outcome.  Either my eyes are too open (which makes one eye look really weird), or my eyes are too closed.  I smile alot, so I really think smiling is more me, even if it does show I have two chins.

Sometimes I wanna do one of those photo things that gets you all gussied up and takes shots that erase years of wrinkles.  They position you just so and your worst features are down-played.  But then I think...wouldn't that be deceitful?

Ever look at your picture and want to fix a tooth?  take a tuck?  move a shadow to hide a sagging chin?  Or a double one?  That's me.  I want to nip and tuck and add botox. 

The truth is, no matter what I see when I look at my reflection, I'm never really satisfied.  I accept what is.  I can change some stuff, but other things are what they are--like it or not.  Here I am....

 GOSH, I REALLY NEED A NEW DO...!!  However...

In the final analysis of it all, my greatest desire is to reflect--not me--but Jesus.  Oh, to be complete in His image. selahV (a.k.a. hariette petersen)

OLD, SETTLED, AND REBORN

Once upon a time I was young and restless.  My father, who'd hung the moon and kept the stars in place in the Spring and Summer of my life, seemed to become a stodgy old man by Fall, and lose all his charm by the Winter of my adolescence.  The father I obeyed without question became an adversary. Church lost its attraction to me because I saw a deacon sneaking a smoke outside the church one Sunday.  That confused me.  I'd been taught that the body of a Christian was the temple of God and what we put into our bodies honored or dishonored the Father in heaven.  The word hypocrite took on new meaning for me as a vulnerable sixteen-year-old.  I wondered how many other things Christians who taught me did in secret.  The Sunday School teachers I'd listened to, and trusted, for 16 years no longer seemed "cool".   

I went my own way for several years after that.  I can't say that my faith in God went up in smoke from witnessing a puffing Christian.  I can only say it gave me excuse to disregard what I'd been taught by those I thought knew everything.  I thought my father was invincible--that even though he did not attend church, it was because he was busy being a fireman and community servant.  It couldn't mean he was not a Christian.  After all, he made sure we kids went to church every single Sunday morning.  He gave me a white Bible on my tenth birthday.  Yet, somewhere between 10 and 16, I realized the grapes that were fermenting in our garage were not a tangy form of Welch's juice.  My restlessness took on a life of its own.

Today I am old.  Settled.  Reborn.

Today I know how foolish one can be in life when they judge God based on the merits of others.  I see how God's Word stands in the face of witless thinking.  I see how faith withstands the tests of time and circumstance and failure.  I know that God's grace works continually in the life of a child-like trust in "For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him will have everlasting life." John 3:16. [emphasis mine]

While I watch the demise of some institutions of faith, I cannot help but wonder what the Lord sees and wonder if He looks down from heaven and smells the fragrance of His people's prayers or the stench of their disobedience.  I wonder why so few realize The Most High God inhabits the praises of His people.  I wonder if others who stand in solidarity with settled rest beneath the blanket of Christ's redeeming blood alone feel as disheartened as I do when they look at the horizons of the setting sun.  When they see the young and restless attempt to undo that which their fathers before them stood in the gap to build?  do others see the strongholds crumbling in the tension of unsettled hearts?  do others understand how jumping up and down on bridges built to share the love of Christ can weaken its support and cause catastrophic consequence to those children walking toward safety on the other side?  I wonder.  I really wonder.  (to be continued...) selahV

GET THEE BEHIND ME, SELF

Today I got to thinking about thinking.  Where do my thoughts originate?  I'm sure if we ask five different professionals, we'd have five different answers.  I Googled the question, "where do thoughts come from?" and this is the answers I found on Yahoo (/link).  Quite interesting.

I've often quoted the passage, "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he."   The Bible tells us that from the lusts of our heart springs forth a desire to sin.  As we dwell on that lustful desire--entertain that thought--we give birth to sin.  A kind of evolution, if you will. 

So where do thoughts come from?

I'm not talking about evil thoughts.  I'm talking about inspiration to write.  The Muse.  The idea that comes to us in the midst of washing dishes.  The "original" phrase (is there any such animal?), we type onto a blank page without anyone saying a word.  I think of water when I become thirsty, food-when I become hungry, pain-when I stub my toe, soft-when I touch cotton.  But what brings that brilliance...that ignorance...that wisdom...that foolishness to our minds?  That wit, that spontaneity?

What makes a particular person's name pop into your head as you're driving down the highway?  Then you call that person and discover they were thinking of you at the same moment...even when you are thousands of miles apart.  Sometimes we are awakened in the night with a name on our minds and we immediately start praying for that person, only to learn the next day that at the exact moment you were praying, they were in deep need of help or had just escaped an incredible accident.

"My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

I understand that.  Any good thought that comes to my mind has to come from Him because no man is good but the Lord.  So can we assume that the good we think to do, the desire of kindness that wells up in our hearts, is directly generated by God?  Or do we actually think we are the authors of our own ingenuity, creativity, and profound ponderings?  selahV

THE INSANITY OF ALLSTATE INSURANCE COMPANY

You all may recall how I've told you about the Yo-yo, roller-coaster ride that Allstate Insurance has had me on since I was hit by one of their insured customers on December 9th last year.  It got worse.  Just when I think I am about to get a call to come pick up my repaired vehicle, Allstate throws me a curve-ball to beat all curve-balls.  What I'm about to tell you is one of the most ludicrous situations of insurance stupidity I have come across in a long while. 

 

From the day of the accident, the guy who towed our car away told us that my Malibu was totaled.  When we had it towed to my body-shop man (Billy), wrote up a detailed estimate for Allstate Insurance.  He had that estimate into Allstate within one day of receiving the car at his shop.  Weeks later we hear from the insurance company and they told Billy and me that an adjuster from Allstate said it was "unrepairable".  Totaled.  So, I began fretting over finding a car and wondering what they will give me for my Malibu.  Will I be able to replace it with the money they give me?  Will I even be able to find one that is in equally good condition?

 

Meanwhile I submit my hospital bills to Allstate and do not hear back from them.  I call and leave messages.  No one calls back.  So I call again and get a new claims adjuester who tells me they won't pay them until I settle the claim with the first adjuster I talked with.  (Tell that to the hospital who wants their money for services already rendered.)  I digress.

 

So Allstate won't tell me what they will give me for the "totaled" vehicle until it is towed to Oklahoma City and another adjuster looks at it and determines its "conditional value".  They are going to determine how much it is worth.  So I get nervous.  I can't think straight wondering where we'll get the money to replace it if Allstate doesn't give us what it costs for another. 

 

Then out of the blue, another Allstate adjuster (Ruby), changes the game plan.  Ruby determines it is "repairable and not totaled".  My body-shop man, Billy, argued with her that it wasn't financially feasible to repair it with all the safety features and collision damage and towing charges and rental car fees.  Ruby poohed poohed him and told him to take this off the estimate, and that off the estimate.  When I argued with her that is wasn't repairable and they were only interested in getting off without paying me enough to fix my car properly or replace it, she told me if I didn't like the way Allstate was handling the claim, I could submit it to my own insurance company.  Uh...I hung up on her.

 

So the car gets shipped back to my bodyshop here in Lawton.  I don't call.  I don't ask anymore about the car.  I'm irritated.  When it gets back to Billy, he discovers the towing company must have allowed the car to bottom-out and it broke my struts (which now also have to be repaired).  Then Billy is finished with the repairs.  However, when he hooked it up to GM's diagnostics, it said I had to have a front-seat passenger-side seatbelt replaced, too.  Without that replacement, my airbags would not deploy if I had another accident. So what does Allstate do when they get the supplement invoice for that plus the damage the towing company did to my car enroute back to Lawton?

 

Allstate calls Billy and tells him they are now going to total my car.  It's called an economic total.  Uh...are they crazy?  They have to pay Billy $8,500 dollars for the repair work he's already completed.  All that was necessary to put it on the road was a mere $200-dollars for the seatbelt.  Instead, they are going to pay Billy his money and offer me $9,007 dollars for a car that is selling for nearly $12,000 dollars plus tax and licensing.  So instead of giving me the $12,000 from the beginning and settling on the totaled car, they are paying out nearly $23,000.00.  Yes...TWENTY-THREE-THOUSAND dollars to settle the collision claim.  And I am out a good quality car and must pay out of my pocket for a car that was paid off and spend who knows how long finding one.  I could have bought a Prius with 23,000 dollars, for crying out loud.  (And you wonder why insurance companies charge so much for insurance, eh?)

 

When Allstate called today, their adjuster apologized for the roller-coaster ride I've been on.  Chad--the adjuster, told me that "this claim has been terribly mishandled from the beginning".  No, duh.  The arrogant Ruby (who told me to submit my claim to my own insurance company if I didn't like the way Allstate was handling it), is no where to be found.  Yet, I'm suppose to accept her "conditional value" offer for my car when she couldn't even determine it was totaled in the first place???????

 

Let me ask you, folks.  Should I believe this company when they chant "You're in Good Hands with Allstate"?  Should I believe they will handle my medical claim any better than they have this vehicle claim?  I already know they are "investigating" my medical claim because I am seeing a chiropractor for the pain in my neck and back.  Will they figure out a way to dismiss my anxiety, sleeplessness, pain and suffering when they settle that claim?  Are they going to find something wrong with my medical bills in their "investigation" of my claims?  Who knows?  Only time will tell.

 

I'm glad the Lord is on my side, I know I'm in good hands with Him.  Allstate on the otherhand?  Not so much.  Just saying.  selahV

WITH A VENGEANCE

February smacked us in the face.

Can't believe January has already come and gone.  Until now, we've been quite fortunate here in my part of Oklahoma.  Just last week I was boasting of our 75 degree temperatures.  It was wonderful.  Then wham bam, on February 1st, we got slammed with the rest of the country.  Seven inches of snow (lying on a sheet of ice) closed churches, schools and many many stores.   My chiropractor called and rescheduled my appointment.  Good thing.  Don't think I dare waddle out onto that icy mess.

Don't know if the mail has come or not.  We haven't ventured down our driveway to find out.  Can barely push the door open to get the newspaper.  Snowdrifts.  However....

We are so blessed.  We've had lights, heat, water and television.  We had a bit of frozen pipe in one of our bathrooms, but a blow-dryer fixed that.  I lost internet service till today, but that was just as well.  Don't need to knock my neck out of joint when I can't see the chiro till Friday (maybe...depends on whether we thaw out or not). 

They predict record ZERO to greet us tomorrow morning.  Right now it is 2-below with our windchill factor.  Forecasters say our thaw begins on Friday.  That's far better than our relatives in Connecticut can hope for.

My brother's wife has no place to put all the snow that's piled up from their record storms this winter.  I got an email from my sister-in-law from Florida.  She's so grateful she moved south.  Her son called from Connecticut and told her he had to climb up and shovel off his brand new roof.  The weight of the snow must have wiggled its way through some crevice and caused a leak into his master bedroom.  They get snow by the foot--not the inch.  I loved it when I was young...but have come to truly appreciate southern Oklahoma as I've grown older.  We may have cold for a few days, then it's gone.  New England has is for months.

Couldn't believe over a thousand cars were buried on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.  Thousands stranded for hours upon hours.  Unbelieveable that anyone would go out with all the storm-warnings we had.  Man makes a habit of ignoring warnings.  The Psalmist began his work with warnings:

"Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers." Psalm 1:1-3

Seems many see no need to heed warnings.  Storms are coming:  Smoking kills.  Texting while driving kills.  Driving under the influence of alcohol kills.  Sin kills.  And when we ignore the warnings of God, we have only ourselves to blame.  He warns us to stay away from so much--not to hurt us, but to protect us.  Yet, we ignore His Word, dismiss His instructions, quench His Spirit and go our own way.  We walk where we shouldn't.  Linger when we should run.  Surrender when we should resist.  Then we wail and cry for Him to help us out of our self-imposed plights.  Yet, even in our sinfulness, He stands faithful to forgive--filled with mercy to pour out each morning.  Such grace.  Such love.  You'd think every stone-cold heart would melt, wouldn't you?  

I have so much to talk about.  Hopefully, as I am able, I'll be writing more frequently.  However, I'm learning to pace the time I spend at the computer.  While I sit here at my laptop, I place a little stuffed puppy behind my neck to relieve my neck.  The chiropractor is really helping me avoid taking pain meds.  Hate those things.  Make ya feel loopy...not to mention what they do to your liver and kidneys.  How do I know?  They have "warnings" on their labels.  Allstate wasn't too keen about me seeing the chiropractor.  But that's okay.  I'm not too keen about taking a bunch of drugs.  After all.  I've been warned.  selahV

MORE THAN MANY SPARROWS

It's an amazing thing.  Jesus could have chosen any bird in the sky to compare the value of humanity to God.  He could have picked the regal eagle, the beneficial purple martin, the peaceful dove.  Yet, He picked a sparrow.

^"29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. ³⁰And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10:29-31

Could we not be "worth more than many" eagles? Bluebirds? Doves?  Perhaps.  Yet, as I consider our Savior's words, I think how perfect His sparrow analogy is.  An eagle is a majestic, powerful bird.  A dove depicts a gentleness, amiability.  Bluebirds are colorful, shy and guarded.  Of course we'd assume God would care about those birds, just as we favor them in our environment.  However, a sparrow--the near-worthless sparrow, is the lowly fowl.  It sports no peacock plumes of grandeur.  In fact, sparrows are drab and unattractive in comparison to most birds.  They are notoriously nasty little creatures. They carry and spread multiple diseases; they destroy eggs and young of bluebirds and helpful birds, such as purple martin.  They push and shove all other birds from feeders; they're mean and menacing.  Sparrows are self-centered, self-serving and greedy.  Considering that "all [men] have sinned and fall short of the glory of God", could there be a better bird to show the least of the kingdom?

Ask any birdwatcher; you'll learn quickly that sparrows crowd out the beautiful cardinals, are arch enemies to the bluebird and purple martins.  They are annoying and eat the majority of seed in every feeder filled to attract other birds.  I wonder.  Could the Lord have wanted us to see that the lowest of low fell under the watchful eye of our Father?  He desired that we see even the least of this earth is watched and considered by the Most High God?  Even the worst of nature is not unnoticed.  How much greater we are to our Heavenly Father!  "Worth more than many sparrows.

When we are threatened by life's circumstances or man, we have every reason to rest in God's grace.  He knows.  He cares.  Jesus said so.  Rejoice, my friends, rejoice! selahV

RESTORING HONOR with Glenn Beck

Glenn Beck believes America has lost her way.  He has some heavy-duty critics who slice and dice his every word.  He's been threatened and condemned--lied about, and ridiculed.  Yet, he keeps on speaking what he perceives to be the need for America to stand up and meet the challenges of today head-on.  He tells us that it will take sacrifice.  It will take courage.  It will take character.

Today Beck is issuing a clarion call to Americans.  They'll meet at the Lincoln Memorial to emphasize the honor of America.  We have traveled far away from the principles upon which our founding fathers intended.  Beck seeks to kindle enthusiasm for that lost honor among men.

Glenn hopes to restore honor to the American spirit.  He plans to spotlight people who desire the same thing--character, integrity, truthfulness.  Faith, hope, charity.

Some folks say he is self-aggrandizing.  Some are angry that he would dare choose to meet on the steps where Martin Luther King stood and gave his "I Have a Dream" speech 47 years ago.  Some have gone so far as to threaten Alveda King, the niece of Martin Luther, because she would dare to speak alongside Glenn Beck.  Such irony.  MLK spoke of being defined by character--not the color of one's skin.  Yet critics would silence Alveda King; they would silence Beck.  Just this week, Eugene Robinson wrote in his editorial for Washington Post that the best way to respond to Beck's call for Restoring Honor is to ignore it.  "Ignore him."

Friends, we've ignored honor long enough in America.  We've ignored the voices of those who cry out for justice and listened to the voices who would silence them.  I don't know exactly what Beck has planned for today.  But I'm willing to listen.  Will you?  selahV 

EVER WONDER ...

...just who is reading your blog?  I have.  It's weird I suppose.  But if you are like me, and do not have a lot of commenters, but have a fair amount of daily hits on your blog, then you do tend to wonder exactly who is reading your blatherings.  I can't begin to tell you how many times I've written a post and someone will email me and ask if I've been sitting in their bedroom closet or under their dining room table.  It's funny.  To me, anyway.  How can one write common everyday stuff and it seem to touch upon another's particular situation? penetrate another's heart? soothe another's soul?  lift another's spirit?  or pinch another's nerve?

Lately I've had a few readers who click on because they follow me on Face-book.  A few others follow me on Twitter.  Still others I have known since the beginning of my blogging madness.  Of course I have some folks that pop in because I am linked to all kinds of other folks and then some come via google-search on particular topics.  But I find it interesting when a specific reader's website link shows up in my stats page.  Truly makes me wonder what in the world I write that has attracted them to my little mud-hole.

Personally, I don't make a whole lot of whoop-de-doo over the stats.  I write because I have some nutty thing pop into my mind and often just wanna slop it on the monitor before my eyes.  I can't begin to count how many drafts I have that I've not published.  Every now and then I will go through the drafts, find something worth editing and polishing, then bingo!  A post is born.  I just write to write.  It's fun.  It's me.  You see, I know my weaknesses.  And in the real world beyond this computer screen, I like to talk alot.  And a lot of folks do not like to listen.  So, this is a great outlet for me.  Why?  Because I can talk all I want and folks are totally free to choose whether they want to pay any attention to me or not.  They don't have to read my blatherings.  They don't have to heed my warnings.  They don't have to respond to a thing I say.  They don't even have to acknowledge me in any way shape or form.  And I get to babble on and on till my little ol' heart is content, or my mind is emptied of all the stuff clogging up my brain.  However, sometimes I do wonder who is reading me when I have so many page-views by websites from all over the world.

I wonder what attracts you. 

I don't get into politics all that much (except when I feel absolutely passionate about something, and I have another blog in which I rant and rave those thoughts).  I rarely debate issues like so many bloggers I know.  I generally don't write about any one particular person, unless I'm ticked off at the POTUS, or some lame-brain congress member.  I'm not into investigative tale-bearing or research-oriented rhetoricals.  My posts are mostly devotional in nature.  Personal reflections on a subject--a truth, a principle, a scripture passage, a slice of life, my adorable grandchildren--or even raccoons in the attic.  I just write stuff.  Plain old whatever is in my mind stuff.  And sometimes I even bore myself when I proof my posts.  I will probably feel that way about this post someday when, and if, I read it:  Why in the world did I publish this?  just musing out loud, as usual.  How about you; do you ever wonder?  selahV