Kiss my grits, DUMPLING

I get all kinds of comments from people every day as editor of a newspaper. Some of them are nice and complimentary...but most are people complaining about something they don't like.

But I have to say, since I moved to Tifton, I have gotten more than my fair share of personal attacks from people I very likely have never met. Some of them have been downright rude. But this one, which I received today, was just mean. Just plain mean.

Before you read further, for background, I wrote a couple of columns about what men and women should and shouldn't wear, with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek, which I disclosed in each column. I used words like bra (wear one) and polyester. I called boobies "dumplings." Most of the feedback I heard was positive and most people said both columns gave them a good chuckle. Then there's this idiot...here's his letter, UNSIGNED, in its entirety...

It would be wise of you to tend to your own business and quit telling people what to wear. Get a life.

Your comments tell me you have very little home training and manners, and you are jealous of other women and must be post menopausal and in need of hormones. Your mama didn't raise you right, and as far as dumplings go, you must not have any and resent the fact real women do.

Are you teaching your daughter any manners? I hope so, but it doesn't sound like it.

And please quit the photos of you. I have looked enough. If I were you, I'd quit worrying about other people's underwear (which is none of your business!) and worry about my job.

Let's face it, you are ignorant, have no class, stupid and a disgrace to the paper. I won't be renewing as long as you work there. 

People can wear anything they want, lady, even if they are 60 or 80, male or female and it is none of your business. You are a vulgar, nasty, nosy slob. Oh yeah, get some makeup and grow some hair and lose some weight.

Ex-subscriber

I expect to get criticism from readers who become disgruntled because of one reason or another. I expect some folks to just plain not like me because they have an issue with the paper. I don't take it personally. Over the years, I have developed pretty thick skin, and I just let most of it go. But this one bothered me. 

It bothered me not because it was so mean, but because someone would take the time to spew such venom. A person I have never met, who knows very little if anything about me, took the time to write this. It bothers me that there are people like this in the world. It bothers me that there are people like this in my community.

Yep. I said MY community. Like it or not, I live in Tifton now. And a few folks who are only happy if they are unhappy are neither going to run me off or keep me down. I will continue to do my job to the best of my ability. That will likely include changes to the paper – and for those who don't like change, you can just get out of the way. Stop reading. Leave town. We don't need you to read our paper and we don't need you in this community.

I won't stoop to this person's level and publish any of this, because as editor, I don't allow our pages to be used for bullying or idiocy. This brand of ugly has no place in my paper. 

I hope I get to meet this person sometime. That is, if this person ever grows a set. I've got some sappy, sweeter than saccharine comments for you, buddy. 

Still here...

Well...it has been quite some time since I updated my blog...So here's what's been going on...

I lost my job in Tallahassee in August 2012, and didn't find a new one until January 2013. But the good news is that I am once again a newspaper editor, and I'm back in Georgia. Woo hoo!

The bad news is that I am way busy. Too busy to be writing this blog. So this is it for now. I will have some deep thoughts and post later on. Just wanted you to know I'm still alive and kicking...

Still waiting...

Well. I lost my job the last week of August. It is now December. I'm thinking Christmas may not be so bright this year...

I don't do waiting very well. I am a results kind of girl. I see a problem, I weigh the options, I make a decision, and then I want results. That has not been the case in my current situation. I am still jobless, despite lots of prayers, begging God for deliverance from this circumstance. And I'm not the only one praying. I have friends and family who are also praying for me.

Yet still, I wait.

I don't understand it. I don't pretend to. There have been days, if I'm being honest, that I have cried. A lot. And I mean ugly, snot-flinging, sobbing crying. It wasn't pretty. But I did feel better afterward. There have also been days I just didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to have to say, "I'm okay," when asked, with feeling, "So...how are you?" I know those asking mean well, and that they truly care. I just get tired of talking about it. 

There have also been days when I've been so sure that God is in control, and that He is at work to answer my prayer. I have known, on those days, that God has never failed me in the past, and that He won't fail me this time. He has always cared about my needs and my tears, and this time is no different. Truth be told, even on my worst days, I have known and believed this. It just gets buried deeper on some days than on others. 

What buries this truth? My own doubts. My fear. A glance at my checkbook. Another rejection letter. No telephone calls. Job searches that result in zero possibilities. All these things push the truth down until it's hard to breathe, much less hang on to what I know is right.

It all boils down to this...God isn't moving fast enough for me. There. I said it. Did I mention I don't do waiting very well?

Yesterday, as we sang worship songs at church, I admit, I was having an off day. I was singing the words, but just not feeling them. I admit, I wasn't worshiping. I was just going through the motions. I caught myself doing it on about the third song, and I stopped and prayed. 

"God, I am here to worship you. But my heart is not in it. But I don't want my heart to be closed to what you have to say to me today. So right now, I open my heart, my mind, and my spirit to whatever you have to say to me today. Whatever it might be..."

That was my prayer. And God heard me. I immediately felt better, and was able to focus on worship. And then there was the sermon. It was all about worship...thanks to the focus placed on the Christmas song, "O Holy Night." But a section of scripture read during the sermon was what really got my attention...

Lamentations 3:20-26

New Living Translation (NLT)

²⁰ I will never forget this awful time,
    as I grieve over my loss.
²¹ Yet I still dare to hope
    when I remember this:

²² The faithful love of the Lord never ends!^[a]
    His mercies never cease.
²³ Great is his faithfulness;
    his mercies begin afresh each morning.
²⁴ I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
    therefore, I will hope in him!”

²⁵ The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
    to those who search for him.
²⁶ So it is good to wait quietly
    for salvation from the Lord.

It blessed my heart to hear those words. God's faithfulness never ends, and because of this, I can still dare to hope. He is good to those who depend on Him. 

I will not be able to forget this awful time, and I may not wait as quietly as I should, but God brings me new mercies every day. That's enough for me.

Single purpose...

Read a great post this morning...here's the link: How to Look Beyond Romance to Love as Jesus Does http://t.co/6Bi4zRXT

It got me to thinking about being single in today's church. It's like finding yourself suddenly on an alien planet, particularly if you are 40+. All too often, churches are focused on the needs of families, which isn't a bad thing. But they are not the only ones who call the church home. If you are single, like myself, there's often no real place to belong, or fit in.

And on top of that, singles over a certain age are seen as less-than or incomplete...like they have somehow failed in life. I once worked with a church staffer who actually told me that single adults were "out of the will of God" because they choose to be single. Needless to say, we had a fairly heated discussion, because I disagree with that statement wholeheartedly.

Many single adults, like me, have just not found the right person yet. There are those who choose to remain single, but it's been my experience that those are few and far between. The reality is, life happens. Careers get busy, family concerns take precedence, and dating just gets pushed to the back burner.

There are also those who have dealt with emotional pain in the past, and therefore currently have difficulty in developing relationships. Society often labels them freaks, rather than offering a helping hand - and the church often does nothing to help, either. Rather than lifting them up, all too often the church just ignores this issue, except for those who have experienced divorce. But divorces are not the only source of pain or obstacle for single adults. It's high time, in my humble opinion, the church recognizes this and does something about it.

I looked for well over a year for a church in my city that offered a single adult ministry that didn't cater to just 20-somethings. Still haven't found one. In the end, I decided to push away my needs and just focus on plugging into a church where I could best serve God and be fed spiritually. I have found that. But I still long for single adult fellowship. Still praying about that one...

And for the record, although I often joke that I am always accepting applications for "husband," I need to strongly state that is not why I attend church nor is it why I want single adult fellowship. I once visited a church where the pastor told me, after I asked if his church had a single adult ministry, "If you are looking for a husband, this is not the church for you." I was shocked. If this was my sole purpose for attending church, I would have stopped going long ago.

Single adults need single adults. It's that simple. While you can maintain friendships with married friends, the fact remains that single adults need each other. When you are a part of such a fellowship, you become a family, and offer support to each other unlike what can be found elsewhere. It's just a unique thing. I have been a part of a church before where this was offered in abundance, and I made lifelong friends that I cherish...some are now married, some are not. I truly miss the fellowship and the feeling of belonging.

While there are certainly examples of Christ-followers who chose to be single in order to better serve Him, I don't feel called to be single forever. But I am learning to be content in my circumstances...as a single adult...until God takes me to a different place in my life.

It would be nice to have some folks by my side who understand and experience the same...

Fighting like a girl...

Welp. Today was gonna be Wallow Wednesday for me. I have recently lost my job,and  applied for unemployment, counting on it to bridge the gap until I can find a new job. Then I found out how much I'll actually be getting every two weeks. Full-on panic has set in.

Don't get me wrong. I am thankful for the little bit I am getting. I know every little bit helps. But it doesn't take care of everything, and that, quite frankly, scares the crap out of me. So in the midst of this turmoil and craptastic (word of the day) state I find myself in, I had decided to have a wallow day. I've been teary-eyed and just miserable ever since I got up this morning. It's the first day I've allowed myself to do so. I have been reading Job, and relating, big-time. I've been putting on a brave face and holding up my chin, since people keep telling me to keep my chin up. But as of today, the charade (I'm pronouncing it sha-rod) is over. I am not a happy camper.

I think God knew I needed a dose of reality. I got on Facebook to, of course, share my misery. It was there I got my dose. A couple of my dear friends have been going through a rough time in recent months with their daughter, who has had breast cancer. She's been awesome. Her name is Angela, and she's so brave, and has such unwavering faith. Angela is a sweetheart and I love her like my own, as well as her sister. And their parents, well, there are few finer folks in this world. I served with her dad, who's a pastor, at the same church for several years.

Angela has gone through all the treatments, and things were looking great. Then she found another lump. And now the doctor says that the cancer is back and it could be stage four. Needless to say, the entire family is devastated. There was light at the end of the tunnel, and now it's flickering. But this is a family of faith...a family who has stood together and stared cancer down and said, "You won't win." They're still saying it...just, I think, with heavier hearts this time around.

When I saw that Angela's cancer was back, I just burst into tears. It seems so unfair that someone so young should have to deal with something like this once, let alone twice. She's such an awesome young woman, and  doesn't deserve this. Not that anyone does. I will be praying all the time for this precious family, especially Angela.

There. That's my dose of reality. I may not have a job or much money in the bank, but I don't have a life-threatening disease. I am not battling for my life. I have so much to be thankful for. And I am thankful. So very thankful.

I am thankful that I have so many wonderful friends, as well as family, who are praying for me. All those people that keep telling me to keep my chin up, well, they are saying we're in this with you....we've got your back. It feels good to know that I am not in this alone.

But I feel I should warn you. I am not like Angela. I am not as brave as she is, and there may be days when I wallow and cry. But on those days, I will endeavor to dry my tears, get on my knees and thank God for all He has given me...and pray for Angela. She's fighting cancer like a girl...and I've got her back.

My heart hurts today...

My best friend's mom died last night. I feel so numb right now, yet my heart just...hurts. How is that even possible?

I feel so bad for her. She lost her dad just a few years ago, and now her mom. I can't even imagine life without my parents being there, even if they were incapacitated in some way. At least they'd still be there. But to know that they're not there anymore...that if you go to their house, they aren't there...just empty rooms...and silence. I can't begin to imagine how that feels. I don't want to. I don't want to ever feel that.

But I suppose it's unavoidable, unless I were to die first. A part of me wishes that would be the case...so I wouldn't have to say goodbye to anyone. But that's incredibly selfish, so the bigger part of me doesn't want that.

I'm rambling...it's just that my thought bubble is so full of, just, stuff right now. So many feelings. So many tears. So much hurt. And Mama Mary wasn't even my mother. It just kind of felt that way sometimes. She was so awesome. Fearless. Her own person. Sure, she had issues. But who doesn't? I liked that Mary was just Mary. And she didn't apologize for who she was. The thing I liked best about her was her fierce love of her family. No matter what her kids did or didn't do, she loved them.

And oh, those grandbabies. She loved them so much. And I know they loved her. They'll always love her. I'm so glad they all got to know her and spend time with her. There were circumstances that placed them with her more often than perhaps she needed, but now...well...I'm glad. Every moment they had with their Marmee was precious.

I love that my friend looks so much like her mother. Every time she looks in the mirror, she'll be reminded of a mom who loved her ferociously. A mom who was her greatest admirer, and who saw her daughter as her life's greatest accomplishment.

I know that Mama Mary will be missed by her daughters, her grandchildren and all the rest of those who knew her best and loved her most. But there is one who has been waiting for her...the Big Man...my friend's dad. He loved Mary with all his heart. And I know it was hard for him to leave her when his time came. But I'm sure he's been getting things ready for her, and when she took her last breath, he could only smile, because in that moment, his bride was with him again.

My heart aches for my friend, and I cannot imagine the pain she is feeling today as she prepares to say goodbye to her mom. But I know that she is aware that it's really not goodbye. It's more of a "see you later."

So I'll just say, see you later, Mama Mary. Thank you for having a wonderful daughter...for raising her to be the strong and awesome woman she is....and for sharing her with me.

Whistle...Don't Whine

I don't do waiting. At least not very well. But it seems that's all I'm doing these days.

Come to think of it, it feels like I've been waiting my whole life. As a child, I waited to be pretty or have straight hair, like other girls. As a teenager, I waited for high school to be over so I could "live." As a college student, I waited for the next big thing. And I'm still waiting for my Prince Charming. 

And during all this waiting, I have struggled. I have fought. I have whined. I have complained. Loudly. And I have questioned God repeatedly. Why me? Why can't I have what other people have? Why is it that the ungodly get things handed to them that I am still desperately waiting for? If I am serving God with my whole heart, then where are the blessings He has promised?

I can just see God flinching each time I have shaken my fist at the sky and asked those questions…because it surely hurts His heart when I question Him and His ways. Instead of fighting, I am supposed to be resting. Instead of struggling, I should be focused. Instead of whining, I am supposed to be rejoicing and trusting. Yet I do none of these things.

The thing is, I forget that those periods of waiting are not for me to pace and question. They are for me to rest. And to do so expectantly. God is not at rest while I am in a period of waiting.

So while I wait, I am seeking to become better at it. I am seeking to do so:

 • Prayerfully:  Psalm 25:4-5  

 • With strength and courage:  Psalm 27:14, 31:24 

 • Rejoicing and trusting in His holy name:  Psalm 33:21 

 • Based on the fear of the Lord and His unfailing love: Psalm 33:18, 22 

 • With hope:  Psalm 33:20, 39:7 

 • Patiently:  Psalm 37:7, 40:1; Habakkuk 3:16, Romans 8:25, Hebrews 6:15 

 • Obediently:  Psalm 37:34, 119:166; Isaiah 26:8-9 

 • Desiring Him:  Isaiah 26:8-9  

 • Single-mindedly: Psalm 62:5  

 • Expectantly:  Psalm 123:2, Micah 7:7 

 • Believing His Word:  Psalm 130:5 

 • Assured He is all we need, He is our portion:  Lamentations 3:24 

 • Quietly:  Lamentations 3:26 

 • Always:  Hosea 12:6 

 • In anticipation of joy:  John 3:29 

 • Eagerly:  Romans 8:19, 23

These scriptures are where I'll be "waiting" in the coming weeks. Hopefully by then, I'll have learned how to be better at it. 

And how to stop whining while He works.

Sprinklers still mean joy...

When I was a kid, there was nothing better than running around in the sprinklers on a hot summer day. When you were running under that cool water, nothing else in the world mattered. There was no summer heat. There was only cool water, sun, and laughter.

I am looking out my office window today and wishing for a little of that innocent and fun time. Had I known then what I know now, I probably would have begged Mama to let me stay under those cool jets for just a while longer.

I think I need to find me some sprinklers this summer...

May means lily of the valley and bare feet...

When I was a little girl, I absolutely loved this time of year. In April, all along the edges of our yard and in the fields nearby, there would be daffodils, azaleas, dogwoods and red bud trees in bloom. 

But in May, we began to see my other favorite flower in our yard – the lily of the valley. I love white daisies, which I've always called my favorite flower, generally speaking. But lily of the valley, well, for some reason those delicate little flowers just sang out to me. I loved to pick them and carry them around, pretending I was a bride. They make such a pretty bouquet.

Traditionally, lily of the valley stands for purity of heart, sweetness, humility, happiness and love's good fortune. The flowers are supposed to protect your garden from evil spirits, and it's known as the official flower of the month of May.

Whatever. I just thought they were really pretty. Still do.

I haven't seen any of these growing anywhere in Florida, and I confess I miss them. So I'm placing some here. It's May. It is time for me to go barefoot and have my bouquet of lily of the valley.  

When you're a little girl, and you get all dressed up for Easter Sunday or some other occasion, you hear people say, "Aw. Isn't she pretty?!"

Most little girls heard that. I don't remember ever hearing that. I heard, "She's got the prettiest head of hair I've ever seen!" Or, "Your hair is so pretty." But no one ever told me I was pretty. That stung. And it stuck.

I have pretty much felt like the ugly step-sister my whole life. I'm the one they describe as having a good personality, but they fail to mention my looks. I've always felt this was with good reason.

But as I approach my 50s – yes, I am staring down the barrel of 50 next year – I have decided that I just don't care if someone doesn't like the way I look. I don't look like the chicks on the magazine covers. Never have, never will. And I'm okay with that.

I've actually been okay with this for a few years now. At some point, I decided that I like me, I'm okay with what I look like, and I just don't give a flying fig if you don't like the way I look, act, dress, talk, etc. As long as I make God happy, I'll be happy. I do not, repeat, do not have to make you happy.

Here's what I have learned about beauty over the years:

• In my childhood, I looked at other girls who had perfect, straight blonde hair and tans, and then back at my wild, curly red hair and pale skin, and I felt ugly. The fact that I was told this by other kids didn't help. I believed them. So I spent my childhood believing I had no beauty. It was everywhere but on me.

• In my teens, I began to really develop my personality, and my sense of humor. I thought that this was where my beauty lay. I could make people laugh.

• In my 20s, I learned to forget the rules. Just because I didn't have straight hair, it didn't mean I was ugly. I learned to like my freckles. I started to develop my own sense of taste about everything – clothes, shoes, decor, friendships, romance. I also learned that there is so much more to me than the way I look. I am a total package. And I began to understand that those who didn't get that, didn't deserve to be a part of my life.

• In my 30s, I began to more closely examine what I do have, looks-wise, and embrace it. I have freckles and fair skin. I like them. I have curly red hair. It's part of who I am, and I like it. I learned that how I feel has very little to do with how I look. I learned that I am attractive, not because of what I look like, but because of what I bring to the table.

• In my 40s, well I'm still there, at least for a little longer. I've enjoyed this decade. I'm too old to be a young fool, yet too young for Depends. I've learned that I'm not perfect, but I'm a pretty cool chick. I have learned to not stare into the magnified side of my makeup mirror for too long, but when I do look there, to embrace and appreciate what I find. Each wrinkle I discover is part of me – part of a roadmap of my life. When I closely examine my face, I see that I have had a lot of joy in my life. And I now love my crazy curly red hair.

• In my 50s, I plan to be fabulous. I know I won't look like I did 20 years ago, but I'm okay with that. I wouldn't want to. I want to look like me…now. I want to look like I have lived a life full of joy and awesomeness. I don't regret the fun, so I won't regret the wrinkles. I plan to keep my sense of humor, and I plan to laugh at how my face and my body shifts around as I age. Might as well laugh. It's better than crying. I think I will have fully embraced the fact that looks can hide beauty. I will be fully immersed in continuing to develop my compassion, strength and faith. And I'll do it with my hair and nails "did."

As for beyond those years, I'm not sure. I'd like to think that I'll continue on this same path. I may never be considered "pretty" by other people's standards, but I don't really care about their standards. By my own, and by God's, I am working each day of my life to be the best me I can. And that makes me feel wonderful.

And I do plan on still having crazy red hair when I'm 95.

This is one of my favorite poems...perhaps because it's so me? It's by Jenny Joseph...I wonder, when I read this, if she's been spying on me, because I am already "practicing"...have been for years. ;-)

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people's gardens

and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

This is Plum Orchard Mansion, and the First African Baptist Church is the inset photo.

I love this image. It's a picture I took on Cumberland Island, just off the coast of Georgia. I love the magical feel of this place. The Spanish moss and the saw palmettos, plus those really old oaks that you just know have seen and heard it all...just love it. And it's near First African Baptist Church, where JFK Jr. got married...such a special little building. I love it there. Cumberland Island is awesome...wild horses...the beach...Plum Orchard, that awesome mansion...if you want to see how the rich folks lived way back when...take the tour of the mansion. But this is without a doubt my favorite place on Cumberland. The road is quiet and peaceful. If you listen closely, the oaks will tell you of hot, humid nights under the stars, hoop skirts and mint juleps. I love that there are still places like this in the South.

Before I begin, let me just own up to two things…first, I am a Christian. Second of all, I own a cat. Or rather, I am owned by cat. If you have a cat, you know what I mean.

I am well aware that there are some serious nut jobs out there that wear the label of Christian and wear it loudly. I stumbled across a blog written by just such a person this morning, called "The Dark Underside of America's Obsession with Cat Ownership." Let's just say my mouth is still hanging open.

The post begins by enlightening us with the benefits of owning a pet…A pet can teach responsibility, foster love, teach stewardship, and protect your home and family. But the article then raises the question: Is welcoming any beast into the sanctity and privacy of your home always a good idea?

The author of the post then writes about the health issues associated with cat ownership, pointing out the risk of the various infections and diseases that cats can carry. He doesn't point out that if a person is a responsible pet owner, he can take his cat to the vet where the animal can be vaccinated against each and every one of the "diseases" that he writes are liable to infect us all.

I'll grant you, cats in homes with people who have allergies are a problem. This is why people who are allergic to cats don't have cats.

The article goes on to say "like rodents, felines have strong odors and can track in dangerous outdoor elements." Let me just say, my cat is an indoor-only cat. She doesn't track in anything and she doesn't stink. I have had indoor/outdoor cats before that didn't stink either. If you make sure they are properly vaccinated and use flea/pest prevention on them as diagnosed by your vet, you won't have a thing to worry about. But have you ever smelled a wet dog? Ever tried to clean up a dog that's gotten into something, well, gross outside? I have no problem with dogs, but don't point the finger at cats on this one element of your argument, buddy.

The guy also writes about cats urinating outside of their litter box. Yes, this can be a problem, but it's a indicator that there's something wrong with your cat, and your cat should be taken to the vet for treatment. Cats don't go outside their boxes unless there's an issue.

He also points a finger to the "offensive stench that hangs in a cat owner's home and on their clothing when they venture out into public." Ask anyone whose ever been in my home and they'll tell you there's no odor…in my home, on my cat, or on me and my clothing. Again, it comes back to responsibility. Care for your pet properly and there is no problem. The author of this atrocious piece doesn't point this out. At all.

This nut job says there are "additional psychological dangers in a close feline relationship" for women. We are all destined to become crazy cat ladies. He writes that, "single people are more attracted to cat ownership, while dog owners are married with children." So now he's slammed cat owners who are female and those who are single. Again, nut job.

Now for the really scary part…the author writes how the Bible does not ever refer to cats in a positive light. He points to how lions were used to murder Christians in the Roman coliseums, and how King Herod was a cat owner. He also writes, "In fact, amazingly, not one of the apostles ever owned a cat. It goes without saying that Jesus never did." Just...I...really?!

This crazy dude also points out that people are to train animals and not let animals train them – an obvious reference to the fact that people who have cats say they are "owned by" their cats and not the other way around. He writes, "This is a very important point as we have seen with many contemporary women's relationships with their cats. Worship of cats, a pagan ritual if there ever was one, is truly a sin."

Furthermore, he writes that it is ethically wrong for us to live our lives in service of our lesser creatures – i.e., cats. The author cites studies that show that cats are "highly manipulative" and have trained the "childless" to "fetch their food, scratch behind their ears and do whatever else they require, turning you into overworked servants in your own home."

The final question that this guy asks is this: "With the evident health and moral problems, can we really continue to believe that there is no harm in cat ownership?"

I'll tell you where the real harm is…it's in people who claim to be speaking about what the Bible says, without ever picking it up and studying it. It's those same people who take scripture out of context and twist it to back up belief systems of their own design. This is a very evident problem, Mr. Cat Owner Hater.

And yes, I do believe there will be cats in heaven. Deal with it.

OK. So before I begin, let me just state for the record…I am not a Broncos fan. I am not a fan of the Florida Gators. In fact, I am a card-carrying member of the Gator Haters…it's required if you want to get past the gates of the Bulldawg Nation. But I am a fan of Tim Tebow…who is a former Gator, and currently QBs for the Denver Broncos.

Why am I a Tebow fan? Simple, really. In the face of those who would criticize him, he has stood up and said, "I am a follower of Jesus Christ. Deal with it." I gotta admire that.

There was a recent column that appeared in the Washington Times entitled, "Is Tim Tebow Satan?" Ever the die-hard journalist, I still read several papers a day online, and I happened across this article – the headline caught my attention immediately. Tebow appears to be a fine young man, who spends his free time with family and friends, and takes the time to reach out to sick kids and go on mission trips. When other "celebrities" are out partying, he is helping to build a hospital in Davao City n the Philippines. He's just a great guy – you can't argue with that, no matter whether you worship God, Satan or Lady Gaga.

I've also seen an image splattered throughout social media sites, which I've posted here, that got me all fired up. Our society is ever changing and forever moving toward more and more tolerant attitudes. What's wrong is right, what's black is now white. And Christians are drowning in the wake. We are accused of being bigoted, intolerant jerks, whose narrow-mindedness is ruining life for everyone we come in contact with. Ironically, it's OK for everyone else to stand up for what they believe in, but the second Christians do, we're berated.

This is why the picture I've posted here is so poignant – we are supposed to be a country that celebrates its freedoms. So why is it not OK for Tebow to, well, Tebow, while everyone else does their thing?

Does all of this sound familiar? It should…

Matthew 24: 1-14 (From The Message)

1 -2 Jesus then left the Temple. As he walked away, his disciples pointed out how very impressive the Temple architecture was. Jesus said, "You're not impressed by all this sheer size, are you? The truth of the matter is that there's not a stone in that building that is not going to end up in a pile of rubble." 3Later as he was sitting on Mount Olives, his disciples approached and asked him, "Tell us, when are these things going to happen? What will be the sign of your coming, that the time's up?" 4 -8Jesus said, "Watch out for doomsday deceivers. Many leaders are going to show up with forged identities, claiming, 'I am Christ, the Messiah.' They will deceive a lot of people. When reports come in of wars and rumored wars, keep your head and don't panic. This is routine history; this is no sign of the end. Nation will fight nation and ruler fight ruler, over and over. Famines and earthquakes will occur in various places. This is nothing compared to what is coming. 9 -10"They are going to throw you to the wolves and kill you, everyone hating you because you carry my name. And then, going from bad to worse, it will be dog-eat-dog, everyone at each other's throat, everyone hating each other. 11 -12"In the confusion, lying preachers will come forward and deceive a lot of people. For many others, the overwhelming spread of evil will do them in—nothing left of their love but a mound of ashes. 13 -14"Staying with it—that's what God requires. Stay with it to the end. You won't be sorry, and you'll be saved. All during this time, the good news—the Message of the kingdom—will be preached all over the world, a witness staked out in every country. And then the end will come.

Hang tight, brothers and sisters. It's only going to get worse. In the meantime, it's good to know that there are those among the younger crowd who aren't afraid to stand up – or in Tebow's case, kneel down – no matter what.

It's raining outside, it's just a few days before Christmas, and once again, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. Lord have mercy, do I miss snow!

There is just something magical about waking up to a fresh new blanket of snow. It's like sometime during the night, the earth was covered with newness. New snow makes it feel like we all get a fresh start...a clean slate.

I can always tell when it's going to snow, you know. It's not just "that look" the sky has, but there's a smell the air has right before it snows. And I apparently have a sixth sense that allows me to sniff that scent right out. I always know. And I am like a little kid at Christmas...I can hardly wait.

Speaking of Christmas, there's nothing like a white Christmas. When it's snowing outside and you're gathered with loved ones on Christmas day, it just makes it that much better.

One of my favorite things to do when I lived in Oregon was to just sit and watch the snow fall. Watching those big old flakes fall slowly to the ground gave me such a peaceful feeling. I loved watching it fall, looking at it covering everything, including the mountains...heck, I didn't even mind shoveling the stuff.

As I look outside today and watch it rain, I have to admit, it's disappointing. I'd much rather be looking at snow falling. And since I'm going to Tampa for Christmas, I know I won't see any. But it's okay. I'll be with my family, and that makes it all better.

Besides, snow or no snow, Christmas is a special time. It's not about snow. It's not about Christmas trees and decorations. It's not about gifts. It's not even about gathering with loved ones. It's about a baby's heart beating for you and for me. It's about a Father longing for his prodigal children, and the great and glorious steps He took to bridge the gap.

There's a popular bumper sticker saying that you see everywhere during the holidays: "Jesus is the reason for the season." While it certainly is a time to celebrate His birth, the holiday, I think, is more about God reaching out to us. We are the reason that Jesus gave His life, so I think perhaps we are the reason for the season.

I'm sure that when Mary looked into her baby boy's eyes, she saw that, too.

"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people..."

Yesterday's sermon was flippin' awesome. Pastor Brian is doing a series called "The Blessed Life" and he's really putting it out there. It's good stuff. This particular sermon opened my eyes to something. It came from chapter 6 in Matthew – you know, the whole, don't worry, God will provide part...basically verse 24 until the end of the chapter.

I've read those verses over and over, because I tend to worry sometimes. I never understood why I would get them stuck in my craw, so to speak. In these verses, God tells us that He cares for the birds and the flowers, and reminds us that if He cares for them, why wouldn't we think He'd care for us? That's been my sticking point. I've been convinced that I didn't matter enough – that God couldn't really care about me.

It is so weird to think that, because everything I know and believe tells me that He cares for me. He sent His son to die for me. Duh...of course He cares for me. But deep down, I didn't think I mattered; that I was truly lovable. And God spoke to me on this yesterday.

I think it started when I was a small child. My biological father walked out of our lives when I was very young. He was just never around. When my step-dad wanted to adopt us, I just knew my dad would show up and say, "No. Those are my kids. No one gets to be their dad but me." He didn't. He never called, he never sent a birthday or Christmas card, he didn't show up for graduation...just silence. I remember thinking, even as a small child, that if I were somehow better, smarter, pretty or accomplished something big, then my dad would somehow know about it and want to be a part of my life. That I would matter to him.

At some point, I figured that it was because I wasn't truly lovable. That I wasn't worth it. If I had been, he would have made the effort. And I've bought into that my whole life. It's bled into other relationships, into big and small choices I've made, and into my relationship with God. I know God cares for me, but I still didn't think I mattered. I thought, somewhere deep down in my heart, that God just loved me because He was supposed to. I have done the same thing with my Heavenly Father that I did trying to get my earthly father's attention – I tried so hard to do the right thing, say the right thing, be the right thing. I felt I had to make myself worth loving.

These verses say that birds are oblivious to the fact that God cares for them – their every need is met (verse 26)...and that I am far more valuable than they are to God. Me...? Valuable? Me...? Loved and cherished that much?

This is such an elemental truth, but yet the roots of it just never went deep into my scarred heart. And now I get it.

It has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with Him. I am worth loving because I am His creation. He loves me for me. I have value. I am worth loving.

Wow....just wow.

Monday was extra mean to me this week. It began when I made the decision to roll over and sleep in just a little, since I and my cat were snug in our warm bed. When I decided it was time to get up, I realized it was also time to jump in the shower – and do so quickly. It was then that I realized I had no water.

You see, a garbage truck had taken out our water main in the wee hours of the morning, and I had no idea, because I was snug in my warm bed, dreaming of the silky voice of Severus Snape. I let the good folks at work know that in my current state of stink, I would be in late, and would be working at home until I the water came back on and I could, um, de-funk myself.

Long story short, the water didn't come back on for quite a while and I was stuck at home. I can work from home, but I'd rather work from, well, work. I like to keep the two separate, if possible. My home is my refuge. I don't like to mix work and home. But mix them I did. I do not have a sugar daddy, therefore, work must happen.

When the water finally did come back on, my toilet didn't work. So I'd been home, for hours, with no water and no functioning toilet...and still no toilet. You can do the math.

A couple of calls later, I had a plumber there to fix it. It was a quick repair, thank goodness, and my bladder settled down once again. I again attempted the shower thing and once clean, felt human again.

I had planned on going to work dressed as a beat-up Florida fan. I was highly disappointed that I didn't get to do so...Halloween doesn't always fall on a weekday, and it hasn't fallen on a weekday after Georgia spanked Florida in a long time. I planned to relish in this. Alas, I did not get to celebrate as I'd planned. I was bummed.

I also missed out on seeing my "coworker" Rocco the bulldog, dressed as the Dogfather. I was double-bummed.

What I did get out of the day was a reminder. You see, when the plumber, resplendent with his crack in full view (>-<), fixed my toilet, he replaced the float thingie. And now my toilet has Turret's. It makes this loud whistling noise...just...whenever.

At first, I thought, "I'm calling this guy back and have him come and fix it immediately." Then when I heard it again, I heard laughter. And not my own. It was God laughing.

No, I'm not going nuts. The Psalmist wrote that "He who sits in the heavens laughs." I knew that and believed it. One has only to look at a platypus to know God has a sense of humor. I had just never heard Him laugh. I know it was Him. He enjoyed the humor in my gotta-work-at-home, I-stink-out-loud, haven't-a-pot-to-pee-in Monday...topped off with a Turret's-stricken toilet.

It was, after all, funny.

I think I will put off calling the plumber back. I'll just chuckle every time the Turret's kicks in, and remember that He who sits in the heavens is laughing with me...not at me.

I love fall. I love the little cool edge in the air. I love the sound of crunching leaves under my feet. I love getting out my old sweaters and feeling like they're new because I haven't worn them in so long. But the best thing about fall is college football. I love, love, love, watching me some Georgia Bulldogs.

But this year, alas, I haven't been able to watch them play. Not one single time. Insert sad music here.

The reason is simple. I cut off my cable. I've been meaning to do it for a while, both as a money saver and a time preserver. I was spending way too much time in front of the television, and not enough time out living. So the cable had to go.

For the most part, I don't miss it. I have a wireless blu-ray DVD player, and I have Internet service, and I also have Hulu and Netflix accounts. So if I want to watch a movie or a TV show, I can. It's kind of cool, actually. I can watch what I want, when I want.

But I have to admit, I've gone through withdrawals when it comes to my Dawgs. I have an app on my iPad that allows me to check play by play action, live. So there's that. But it's just not the same. Sigh.

But I don't regret my decision. It's forced me to spend more time doing other things, and that's never a bad thing. I enjoy my hobbies and getting out, going and doing stuff...so it's all good. And the extra money in my pocket each month isn't bad, either. Getting rid of cable wasn't really that big of a sacrifice.

But thinking of this got started thinking about other sacrifices I could make. What else can I do to free up time for quality stuff in my life? I also cut out spending time on social media when I'm home. I do go online to blog or research for my personal writing. I just don't spend time on Facebook or Twitter during the evenings, and rarely on the weekend. I thought I'd miss that too...but I find there are other, more satisfying ways to spend my time.

But what else can I do to simplify my life? I think my next step will be to de-clutter. In fact, that is going to be my winter time project. When it's too cold to go out, I'm going to spend time digging in closets and drawers, getting rid of...stuff.

This is in direct contrast to the way most of us live. We work hard to make more money to buy more stuff. But does this really contribute to the quality of life we each have? Not really. No one is going to stand up at your funeral or mine and say, "Boy, she had a lot of stuff! Isn't that awesome?"

No...people will look at the contributions you've made in this life. And I'll have more time to make those contributions if I unclutter my life.

So here goes...I'll keep you posted...

We're reading and learning from the book "Radical Together" at my church. All our community (small) groups are studying it. I've only read the first four chapters and I'm thoroughly impressed. The author sure has a clear understanding of what God intended the church to be.

As I read one of my chapters for this week last night, I was engrossed by the part about worship. I've always thoroughly believed that worship is a daily, lifestyle thing. It's not just about what you do in church on Sundays. The question was raised in the book, what if the people of God, gathered in one place, ARE the attraction, rather than the preaching or singing that day? AND IS THIS ENOUGH?

That stopped me dead in my tracks. Wow. Whoa. Right between the eyes.

If we, as God's people, are the attraction for the worship service, and someone just stops in to visit one Sunday, what is the impression that's given? What am I communicating? Am I showing that I deserve to die, but because of God's grace I live? Am I showing it in my face, my body language, my actions? Or am I just kind of there, along for the Sunday morning ride? What are we saying collectively as a church?

I am a sinner, saved by grace. My penalty is death. I deserve the sentence I am given. But because God loves me, He intervened, and sent His son to die in my place. I now have eternal life because of what God did for me. In spite of me. That's cause for celebration. That's cause for worship. That should be reflected in my lifestyle of worship, and it should certainly be reflected in my worship on Sunday mornings, or any other time I gather with God's folks.

Are we enough? Is how we worship enough? It's not about the music or the lighting or the instruments or the song choices or the sermon...it's about what we bring to all of that. And is what we bring enough? Enough to lead others to the foot of the cross...

I admit that sometimes, my worship isn't enough. I am still thinking about my own issues, or what someone else is doing, or maybe just too tired to "get into" worship in church. All too often, I find myself worried about the people around me. I get caught up in their experiences, or worried that I might distract them if I "get into" worship "too much." Someone once told me that those around her that clapped and spoke during the service distracted her and made her angry. I've been hyper-sensitive about that kind of thing since.

But worship isn't about pleasing those around us. It's not a horizontal thing. It's a vertical connection. Period. It's me, connecting with God who loved me in spite of me. So I don't care what you think. I am not concerned if you don't like that I lift my hands. I don't even care if you get all offended if I speak out loud. Deal with it. Heaven won't be a quiet place, with angels floating by, softly playing harps. People will be seriously worshipping God...forever. Loudly. So get used to it.

Jesus said that if He was lifted up, He would draw all men to Him. In other words, our worship, collectively as the church, is crucial. We have to focus, collectively and individually, on that vertical connection with Him, lifting Him up. When that happens, others will be drawn to Him.

That's what worship must be. Drawing closer to Him. No smoke machines or fancy lighting required.