Memorial Obituaries Snelling, Lucy

Memorial Obituaries Snelling, Lucy

Which Jane Austen Character Are You?

Mother's Day: A Mother/Daughter Adventure

Today, on Mother's Day, my lovely daughter gave me a mother/daughter afternoon, all on her dime. She took me out to eat at my restaurant of choice for the day, Stake N Shake, then later in the day she treated me to  Coldstone. In between the early dinner and dessert, we enjoyed handbag shopping...well, okay, we enjoyed dickering over handbags because we couldn't find one we agreed on...and we made forays into Barnes & Noble and Old Navy. We also wandered all over the Friendly Center window shopping while we finished our ice cream.

Blue skies, good eats, and delightful company--thanks Jess!

OK Go

http://www.youtube.com/rfpnc#p/f/31/UJKythlXAIY

It's been one of THOSE kinds of days, so I need a reminder to let it go;  this, too, shall pass.

Dogs in Danger: Out of Time

Seal Team 6

Thank you. 

Apostrophe Redux

I have contacted WXII12.com twice about the errors in this article and still they remain, so I consider the errors fair game for a blog post. Notice the improper use of the apostrophe. 

 

WXII12.com

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The Undead, or Perils of Pokeweed Part 2

To recap, last year I sowed a packet of 'wildflower mix' seeds in a flower bed by my house. Unbeknownst to me this particular packet included pokeweed seeds. Where I come from pokeweed is considered an invasive noxious weed, and my opinion on the subject mirrors this attitude. So this spring, I mounted an attack on the original pokeweed plant still lurking in my garden. My first plan of attack was to dig out the old plant, taproot and all. Ha! Take that you cursed pokeweed! Ding, ding! Round one to me!

But wait--- pokeweed isn't so easily vanquished. I may have rooted out the original plant, but all its many berries fell around it. Even with the mother of all pokeweeds gone, the progeny lives on. They merrily sprout up all over my flowerbed in batches and bunches, virtual tribes of poke.

They cluster under my baby sunflowers and flock around the perennials that have begun to bloom. They march through the dirt, a little poke army, conquering by sheer numbers. They even send out hordes to hide amongst the blades of grass in a brazen attempt to overrun the yard.    

But I am merciless. I pluck, pluck, pluck every little poke I see. I pluck the tiny red stems one at a time. I pluck whole handfuls all at once. I yank them, dig them, fling them. Sure, there's some collateral damage when a tiny violet gets caught in the destruction or a desirable volunteer seedling is felled along with the invaders. It's the price I'm willing to pay. Guerrilla warfare, baby.

What a Wretched Man I Am!

"What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7: 24-25

Lord, what a wretched woman I am! Every single day I fail to be the person I should be in you. I take one shaky step forward and stumble backward into the mud. My mouth utters blessings and curses, my heart is full of conceits and deceits, my mind strays from the righteous path like a stumbling drunkard. I am slothful, unmindful, hardened, unfocused, ungracious, and unloving--and that's before lunch!


Yet you love me anyway. You sent your Son to save me anyway. And  you tell me that your mercies are new every  morning. As long as the sun rises and I draw breath,  I have a new day, and in it, your tender care. What is man that you are mindful of him? Who am I that you are aware of me? 


Thank you these gifts--freely given, without strings. Thank you for the love that abides, forgives, restores. 
When I look at what I can accomplish, I feel so discouraged and defeated. Satan rejoices in my defeat. But when I ask you to help me, with your mercies new every morning, I feel a sense of wonder, even as I struggle. You have already won and Satan is defeated. 


Who will rescue me?


Thanks be to God--- I am rescued through Jesus Christ my Lord.