notinKansasanymore

Yes, I'm sure that Dr. Hawking would do a bang-up job of helping us understand . . .. "Be just, and fear not."

Okay, I'm . . . I'm . . . . awake now. There's nothing like having small children to illustrate the folly of staying up too late at night. Morning rolls out to freedom, and so do they . . .. "Be just, and fear not."

Roses are red, Violets are blue, I should be asleep, but I'm not (nyah, nyah, nyah!) "Be just, and fear not."

Whooooooo-HAAAAAA! Hand me a fork! By the way, when do we hear about your trip down under?

Violets are blue, Roses are yellow, Too Gray Now Is a syrple-drizzling fellow. Hey, Fellowshipper! Are you back yet?

Roses are red, violets are purple just getting us back to the top of the page, something that rhymes with "purple."

Roses are red, bats are dark this is for Tommy at a national park.

I just had to get us back up to the top of the page; we were FOURTH! What a disgrace. Took the little ones to see Finding Nemo yesterday. We've been speaking in Whale ever since. sseeeeeeeYOOOOOOUUUUUUUlaaaaaaaTERRRRRRRRRRRR.

Have fun! Take a sweater; it's cool down in the cave. Be sure to go the batflight at dusk; it's so beautiful that even the rangers almost cry when they see it.

I logged on; still couldn't get the picture to show up. No green card yet. Perhaps we will find the more abundant pictures from some other class. Thanks for trying! :)-->

Sometimes I can see pictures with that icon; this time, however, I can't. More later; gotta stay on the jute thing.

Karmic, I sent you a private topic. Roses are red, violets are cute. When the springs are tied, it's on to the jute.

Rocky, I'm sad that you couldn't go. I hope that your medical well-being is being well-er. So, who did go? We've only gotten one report yet. Me, I'm in the middle of a genuinely exotic summertime fun-thing. I'm retying the springs on my sofa. No kidding. Jute webbing comes next; it's ever so refreshing!

So out with it, you guys! How was the Arizona gathering? Tell everything, because the rest of us are gathering vicariously through you!

Okay, you don't have to read all of this. But someone sent it to me, and it made me cry; I thought that you guys might like it. Love, niKa > Scars in our Life > > Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. > In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. > > He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. > > His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. > > Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. > > >From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. > > A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. > > Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to her son that she loved. > > The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pantlegs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go." > > You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. > > In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you. The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. > > But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. > > That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go. > > God has blessed you, so that you can be a blessing to others. You just never know where a person is in his/her life and what they are going through. > > Never judge another person's scars, because you don't know how they got them.

Can't be there for the Tucson gathering together, but I hope youse guys and girls have fun; I will be thinking of you! And thanks for your prayers on behalf of our precious Grandma Rose. Each day is a gift.

Hey, keeeds. If you think of it, please pray for our sweet Grandma Rose. She is my husband's grandmother, and is 97. She enjoyed excellent health for 92 years, and has slowly been losing functions such as mobility, hearing, sight, and clarity of mind. Today, the hospice nurse came for Grandma's preliminary evaluation, and assured the family that when the person who is about to pass is already having conversations with loved ones on the other side, it's generally a very easy, smooth passing. Grandma is ready to go; she has seen the gate, and the string (I have an idea what "the gate" means, but don't understand "the string"), and has been talking to her favorite sister, who passed a couple of years ago, for about six months now. Yes, yes, I understand what Weirwille said about these being, in his opinion, devils; however, my father was once saved in battle by his best friend, who had died the day before (or two days before, I can't recall at the moment), and I refuse to buy Weirwille's interpretation. Regardless, what I'm asking is for your prayers for a very sweet, devoted lifelong Catholic lady who has led a life of good works, hard work, and love, and is easing out of here. For all I know, there may be something about the dementia of extreme old age which softens the barriers between those who are still here, and those who have gone before; I have no idea. But Grandma Rose is on a roll, and she's ready. If you think of her, please pray for her. Thank you very much. I'll post this same thing on the "lift list" thread, but youse guys are my favorites, and I particularly wanted to ask for your prayers.

Road Trip! I'll hire a cat-sitter, and dig a couple of sleeping bags out of the basement.

BTW, got my penny back. I washed it, and will put it in an envelope with her emergency room paper bracelet, for her keepsakes. When her kids drive her crazy, maybe she'll think about the envelope, and smile.

When my son was two, he put part of a walnut, from his oatmeal, up his nostril. An emergency room papoose-board and a tube up his nose somehow cured him of ever wanting to even look at another walnut again. Oh, he'll eat them; he loves them. We just can't let on that they're "walnuts." If he hears that word, he won't touch them.

Twenty-two years. Thanks for the reminder; I hadn't realized. I have been out of our former denomination for something like seventeen years now. I had only been "in" for twelve. Yes, the covenant of salt. Salt and lime? I'm glad that God got us out of there. By the way, I surely did iron a lot of wedding dresses that next day. If one of them was yours (or your wife's), I hope things turned out well. Stayed up (at the emergency room) until 1:00 am; my four-year-old swallowed a penny. She's fine; she even slept through the x-rays, because it was sooooo far past her bedtime; now, we're just waiting to get our money back! :)-->

It's one-hundred-and-one here today. It's not a dry heat. HHHHHHHHHHmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. The tomatoes are starting to red up. The blackberries gave up about a week ago.

I helped run a PFAL in Aurora in 77; maybe we know one another? I lived in Joliet at the time.

I'm from Texas, and my husband's oldest friend is from Australia; this means that my better half is surrounded by folks who think that their birthplaces rival Heaven. Another strange thing about most maps is that the continents with mostly white folks, particularly those North of the Equator, are drawn larger than they actually are, and continents with mostly other colors of folks, particularly those South of the equator, are drawn much smaller than they actually are. Africa is a lot bigger than you think it is. So, never mind revisionist history; what about the revisionist present day?

Australia. It's kind of like Texas, only farther.