Moving Plans.

 I've been planning to move for quite some time now. First, I was planning to move to Scotland, but the company I was going to work for decided not to start up due to C19 issues.  I get that. It would have been really something, but it didn't work out, and that's all good. God has a plan. Now, I'm planning on getting my own apartment for 6 months and then maybe saving to get a small condo (we don't sell apartments in this state. You can buy an apartment like building or "flat" but it's really a condominium.)  Right now the market is such that the sellers are asking way too much, and the buyers are refusing to buy. We never go above asking price here, but there seems to be a trend among the younger set to make that happen so they can out bid someone who has agreed to pay the asking price. I'm not playing that game.

    For me, just making my plans is good, and it's fun, and it keeps my mind occupied. I live in a great complex now; one I've lived in several times throughout my life. If there is an available unit in a month or so I'll likely just do that, and call it done. We only have one and two bedroom units here. There is a 2 or 3 year waiting list for the two bedrooms and you have to live here to be on that list.  It's really not even a prestigious sort of place; but we have our standards.  I lie and tease and say I've lived her over a 100 years, and that the others have been here longer. We have a substantial amount of older tenants. People will literally die in their unit before moving out - - that should tell you something. We do love it here.

    For the past 18 years or so we've had the same landlord and the same maintenance man. We have a second maintenance man, but he's only been here 6 years, so he's still being broken in and we still call him the new guy. He has a name; we all know it, but we call him the new guy.  The long standing maintenance man is like an uncle to my kids which makes him like a brother to me. He'll tell you straight up what he thinks and doesn't care if he offends you in doing so. He's not necessarily rude, but back in the day I could and would come home from work and he'd be in my apartment drinking my milk, watching my TV, and loving on my animals. He said he was going to charge me for babysitting. That's the type of place we live at, and it really is a good family feel.  

    My new place will be so clean. I look around my apartment now, the one I share with my daughter, and I shake my head. I don't live this way! I don't have things laying about on the floor. I may have books out of their shelves and sitting on tables, but not dishes, not clothes, not horse tack, and more. I decided to cut bait and get out before I go completely mad. I don't have the least bit of OCD, but I just can't stand to be in a cluttered place either. To me, if you don't need it, if you don't use it, you should give it away, sell it, throw it away, or store it. I could never understand people who will fill up a 10x10 storage unit with boxes and never see what they have stored, but they sure pay the $$$ every month to keep it there. If you don't use it, get rid of it! (that's me, it may not be you)

    So, over the weekend I decided to run up to Home Depot, At Home, Target, Hobby Lobby, and Michaels. I went play-shopping and pretending. I decorated my entire new fake apartment and I pretended to buy furniture, sheets, comforters, curtains, lamps, and I even bought new pots and pans. I want everything in the new place to be fresh, new, mine, and without a history really. I may take one or two art pieces that I have now because my daughter Caity made them, but that's about it. I'll supply her with more canvasses and paint and let her have at it - - I need to fill up a wall or two. No one else will have pieces like mine, and I'll be happy - - win win.

    I've also decided on buying a love seat rather than a full sized couch. I am getting a Papasan chair with a really nice cushion, and I won't let anyone spend the night with me or stay over. (I say that, but I know I would let a certain few stay.) I don't want my kid coming back and trying to move in with me. I want to be on my own. I have wanted to be on my own for over 7 years now. It's MY TURN thank you very much!  I want the food I want, the clothes I want, the towels, dishes, carpet cleaner, soap, and shampoo that I want. I don't want to go into my bathroom and see two towels hanging up. I don't want to see her shampoo, her conditioner, her makeup, her toiletries, and such. I want it all to be MINE.

    While I love this place, one thing I don't love about it is, they don't replace carpet, replace kitchen shelves, even appliances if they can be "fixed" or "cleaned" to work better. We've lived her 7 years now, and the carpet wasn't new then. They won't replace it unless and until all of the furniture is off of it and that can't really happen very easily, so when I do move I will demand new carpet and I will also demand that they replace Laura's as well. We'll move things off at that time. She deserves that. The cabinets in my unit now are so old and in need of simple repair. I could do some of it, but why should I? I rent. The counter tops are original from the 70s and they most assuredly need to be replaced. When I do move I will INSIST that they replace the counter tops or I may have to seek other arrangements. I just don't feel like being all that nice about it anymore. Gone are the days that I agree to compromise my comfort if I'm paying for it.

    One of the best feelings about planning the move is knowing that I won't have to put up with my little girl cackling and carrying on as loudly as she does when she's on her game. I work from home. She works from home too, but we both do tend to get on each other's last nerve with things we do. I constantly interrupt her and she constantly scream/laughs to the point that my clients ask where I am and if I'm safe! I do laugh. More and more of us work from home these days, but it does rather annoy me that I have to have my office in my bedroom because I don't have space to put it out in the dining area where it should be. I don't keep it there because there isn't a door that separates that space from the hall and her door is always open and she'd be cackling even louder at that point. NOPE.

    I love the stuffings out of that woman, but she is a grown woman, and she needs to be on her own! She really hasn't ever been on her own and that's something she must learn to do.  She was at home until she was 18 or so, then lived with friends, sister, cousin, even her brother for a while. She's never been forced to budget, plan meals, pay all of the bills, or be fully responsible. It's damn time. She knows it, I know it, we all know it, and so the plans are in place. We've made these plans before and then C19 hit. We've made these plans after that and she lost her job or I lost my job due to another issue with C19. It's done, it's over, it's time. I am leaving and I won't look back - - except to visit, play with her cats, and have dinner now and again with the brat. I will likely live across the hall or the breezeway, it's not like she couldn't stalk me. She will stalk me. I know she will.

    The bottom line is, I am about to move and it feels so very wonderful to be able to get out on my own and be on my own. I don't have to call out "I'm going to Home Depot" or "Going to Braum's do you want anything?"  You can't go to Braum's Ice Cream and Dairy Store and not ask that question. You can, but in Oklahoma it's considered a misdemeanor.   I won't have to step over her cats. I won't want have to kick the cat water dish in the hall. I won't step over horse tack. I won't go around closing the cabinets that the cats open. I won't sit on an animal that is hiding in my chair. I won't open the refrigerator door looking for my food only to realize it's been eaten. We have a HUGE rule in our house about that. If you take the last thing you let people know, and you write it on the grocery list. She really can't seem to remember to do this very often. 

    It's happening. Hopefully it's happening in May. I don't want to wait until June, but I do want a downstairs unit and I do want one on this side of the complex, so it may be a minute.  Did I mention her skinks, geckos, snakes and rats? Yeah, I don't have to remember to leave the cats outside the door when I leave; she's just simply going to miss me when I'm gone and I will likely, from time to time, miss her too. That's why God made cell phones and Facetime.

Fat Sammy.

My Journal.

 I don't know when I started writing to myself, but I know I was under the age of 15 because I clearly remember getting my first journal at that age and I began writing to myself more efficiently. Before I owned a journal I would simply write notes to myself and tell myself what I would do, what I have done, what I wanted to do, and so forth If anyone found my letters and read them they would probably just have laughed; I never really cared if anyone ever found my writings. To this day I leave the latest journal(s) out on the table next to the chair I sit in (with the dog) and I couldn't care one bit if they picked up the book and read out loud each and every word I have written - - even the embarrassing words. 

    Why don't I care if my secrets are told? I learned a very very long time ago never to write out anything you couldn't publish in the papers and these days I'd have to amend that medium to say "Never write down anything you couldn't post online".  The way I see it now, as has always been, I think my words are my words. If I said it I must have meant it. If you don't agree with me you can stuff it, and if you don't like what I wrote, you can stuff it twice. I say all sorts of mean, nasty, rude, and even crude things at times. I lay it out there, and I'm not afraid to be bold or blunt! If I don't like what you're doing I'm apt to write about it, and God knows I don't mind handing you my journal with a scone and double-dog dare you to read the words for yourself. 

    Over the years, the many many years, I have written countless numbers of books. To ask me how many books I've written would be an impossible task if one considered each 250-300 page journals I've written. I write one every 2-3 months I suppose.  In the early years I used composition notebooks. In 1997 I had the extreme misfortune to have lost literally 12 full years of my writings when my bastard ex-husband decided to destroy my work; I've never recovered from it, and I won 't fully be able to forgive him really. I have given the matter to God, but I know I hold that scar with an impassioned hatred toward him that only Jesus can remove. Like scar tissue, it has grown over, but it is not gone. 

    Since that time I've written more, so many more, and I don't know exactly how many books I've written. I have over 140 journals. We'll say that. I think the best and easiest thing to say is that anyone who wanted to "get to know me" could pick up a book or two and pretty much realize I'm one of the most boring subjects known to have lived; at least according to the pages before them. I write about feeding the horses, about going on trips, about working, about lying to my kids, and about my prayer life. More recently, the past two years, I've written extensively about a man I've prayed for and how my feelings became way too personal for him. I created fantasy, dreams, would-be's and all sorts of nonsense. Words that never ever should have been written, but then again, I can't pretend I'm not who I am, can I? Just as human as the next woman, I suppose. 

    My journal is perhaps the closest thing to a confession that anyone would ever find. The only thing I don't disclose in the books is where the bodies are buried. Why would I do that? Why would I give away the very secrets that could keep me locked away forever and perhaps jeopardize my chances of ever being allowed a pen in my hand! (I hear they only allow No. 2 pencils without erasers in prison, and God knows, I'll need that damned eraser!)  Ha! There I go--fantasizing again! THERE ARE NO BODIES!  I kill people all the time in my mind, but I don't really do it. I'm a freaking WRITER for goodness sakes. Anyone who knows me knows that, and if you don't know me, you wouldn't know that I can't even watch something bloody online or on film. My kids won't let me watch certain shows due to the fact that they know I'll be up with nightmares! (I've never seen The Passion, but I do love me some Jim Caviezel) 

    This morning when I sat down to pick up that learned and glorious book of mine, I decided to speak to it rather than just write in it. I told it how I deeply appreciated it keeping my secrets and openly forgave it if anyone should coax it into sharing them; no worries. I would sit properly with my tea and let you read the words back to me if you thought you could actually decipher my poor (and increasingly growing worse) handwriting. It has REALLY suffered and I can't explain why. Often times I think about what another graphy (graphologist) would say about my handwriting; I know I think twice at times when I glance back over it. I'm the worst right now. I need to work on that. Maybe I'll make a point to be more...more...diligent. Probably not. I'll likely just keep smushing the words together and dropping the letters as if I am in some sort of hurry when I'm not. 

    No doubt tomorrow's entry will reflect this blog, and maybe what I dream tonight. Sometimes I lie about what I dream just because I can. Other times I write exactly what I dreamed and wonder about what it really means. Mostly however, I just write and I tell myself what I'm going to do, what I have done, what I want to do, and maybe who I would love to roll about the woodlands with - - hint, he's usually Scottish, naked (maybe still clutching his kilt in his hands and untying his black boots). He's bearded, plays guitar, and speaks only Gaelic. I don't really understand much of what he's saying, but then again, I really don't give a damn.  Nope. He's getting a bit more gray in the temples these days, but he's always the same man; my lover.  Journals are really good secret keepers and if my mind's private tales are ever discovered that's OK, too - - they are the things imaginations are meant to know and experience. 

    A good friend told me she would never write anything down because she is fearful that someone who she wrote about would find it, perhaps read it, and know her true feelings. That's exactly why I leave my journals out. A person may not want me saying what I want to say to their face. Perhaps reading it in a book on a table (when they know they really have no business reading it) would be a lighter way to find out the truth. When I am gone my books will remain. My story will be told by my own hand. I can't think of another more genuine way to say "This is me. Love me. I'm the only me I could ever be."  Heaven will be my final destination, and though I don't know if I'll ever pen a word there, I know I'll find a kilt on the ground just outside my doorstep and maybe one or two laces untied of some fairly dirty black boots. Heaven is heaven, after all. 

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Entreated (A Poem)

 Entreated 

  

What colors do I see 

When I think of you? 

Could there be a shade 

Sweet enough to be expressed? 

 

Am I bound by a veil so lovely 

At the very sight of you? 

Are you captured by my  

Heart’s eyes – unimaginable? 

 

What sound is it that I hear 

As your voice dances on air? 

As your presence leans upon 

My soul to rest. 

 

How I am lured by the melody 

By the symphony, by the lyrics 

By the chords played evenly 

By our hands. 

 

What anchors my very being 

To the thought of you each time? 

Each time I am drawn without force 

Held captive by music, by love. 

 

Jude Stringfellow – March 26, 2022 

 

Photo credit: Travel Earth

Well, Apparently, I Suck.

 To be honest, the Series 66 is a really tough test, but that's no excuse as to why I didn't pass it. I didn't completely bomb it either, but I didn't pass it. I missed it by about 5 or 6 questions. I'm not a math wiz, but I can do simple math.  I needed 80 questions out of 110 to get a 73% and I think I got 74 correct.  Now, if I got 74 correct when they were only testing the 100 and not the extra 10 they claim they aren't scoring, then I passed.  I don't think I actually passed. I think I missed a few of the 74 that I think I got right. If I had to lay money on it, that would be a good bet. I only THINK I got 74 correct. It was probably something closer to 68-70.  Oh well, the fact is...I suck!

    I didn't want to fail, and maybe not for the reasons that most people don't want to fail. I didn't want to fail so that I could (a) stay out of the stats of those that don't pass the first time (b) be in the stats of those who pass the first time (c) not waste my $$$ that I've already sunk into this, and finally (d) I really really don't want to have to take the damn thing again, but it looks like I will have to do so.  I didn't need the Series 66 for a job. I will be hired without it.  I didn't need it to trade on the FOREX because I can trade all day and night on it without a license. I am only trading my money, not trading anyone else's money. I don't need the Series 66 to do anything other than have it. It's a step in the direction I am going, and it would have been (will be later) useful.

    As I sat at the desk with the two sheets of laminated paper and dry eraser pens that they give you, I created what I thought would be a useful cheat sheet. You can't take one in with you, but you have all the time you want to draw one up and create it from memory when you get into the testing center. I spent about 10 minutes making one, and really, I seriously thought I was doing the right thing. NOT ONE question on that test required me to look at the cheat sheet. Whatever was on the test was NOT what I thought was going to be tested. I really missed the ball on that one. I mean, striking out is one thing, but throwing the bat over your head and into the stands is what I think I did (by comparison). I sat there staring at the monitor, reading the questions, shaking my head, and saying to myself "Hell, I don't know!" more often than I care to admit. 

    To say that there were questions I had no way of answering is adequate. I would say 10-12 questions were flat out not covered on the study material, and they tell you there will be 10 unscored questions, so OK, that means there were at least a couple that I KNOW were not covered. There were another 20 that were covered, but we were led to believe they really didn't go into it that deeply, but they do. Some of the questions were worded strangely, and you didn't know if they meant to confuse you or if they just like using poor grammar. The answers were always polar opposite at that point and you had a 50% chance of getting it correct. Obviously, I didn't do as well on those odds.

    I'll give you an example of a question I got on the test.  This is one that I know the answer to, but the way the question was worded it could be one or the other.  The question is: Which policy could best utilize a Transfer on Death (TOD) benefit?  (a) Joint Tenacy with Rights of Survivorship  (b) Life Insurance Contracts (c) IRAs or (d) Individual Account.   The answer is (a) if you think it could use it, because it needs one.  The answer is (d) if you think it already has one and therefore utilizes it.  This is the sort of thing that occurred at least 10-15 times and unless you can decipher what they really want, you can't really answer the way you're really supposed to answer.  It was frustrating. I'm sure the monitor captured my cringing facial expressions and maybe even saw me threaten to pound the screen a couple of times.

    The really good news is, I can keep studying. I can read more. I can do the Quizlets online. I can do the flashcards. I can purposely go look up Cash Flow Analysis, Fundamental Analysis, Technical Analysis, Tactical Analysis, and Spread Analysis.  We were told there were only 2 questions about anything related to analysis....not true. There were 6-10 questions relating to it, I just can't remember the details. I just remember thinking there were so many more questions about it than we were told. I would have and should have studied more about that; and didn't. That's ON ME, not them. I can study that more and then take the test again, but you know what I fear? I think they'll give me a test with more questions on something else. It works that way.

    There was one question on ERISA...and I got it right. They told us there would be one. They were right. Oh, and they said there would be a question about UTMA or UGMA, and there was not. I was so ready.  I know the fine differences between a 529 and Coverdell, but that wasn't asked. It's good though, I'm OK. I'll just keep my nose to the grind but this time I'll let my employer pay for the test taking. I've done that twice (because I had to cancel one) and at $177 a pop, I'd rather not do that again. Nope, not if I can help it. I don't need the Series 66, but if a boss wants me to have it, they can pay.

Photo Credit: Red Bubble

The Things We Do For Fun.

 I'm sitting at my computer desk, and trying to scoot my chair up closer to the keyboard so I can type but I have my feet planted inside a big black plastic trash can filled 1/4 of the way up with hot water, baking soda, Epsom salt and apple cider vinegar. You know, if you know me, I'm laughing my fool head off at this point. My arms are stretched out because I can't get the chair to roll any closer on the plastic thingy that sits under the chair. I'm thinking I got the water too hot, but like any other girl, I'm thinking it's just a matter of time before it gets cooler -- I can take it.  What we do for beauty!!

    Yesterday I was just milling about the internet trying to find things on Pinterest and other places that could give me hints and hacks about this or that sort of timeless beauty aid to have fun with so I can tease my best friend about it. She and I are always looking for ways to one-up each other, or include one another in the crazy things we come up with. Today's adventure was supposed to be me strapping onions to the bottom of my feet with cling wrap (not too tight) and then placing a sock over my feet to hold the onions in place while I slept. The problem is I don't really eat onions so I had them on my list of things to get at the grocery store, but dang it if I didn't totally forget to pick them up so now I'm doing the other approach. I saw it on Facebook I think, but the lady had a vibrating sort of foot washer and I don't have anything that fancy. I'm not about to ask the cat to do whatever he can to splash around and make the water giggle.

    The onion on the feet affair was supposed to draw out all the toxic toxins in my entire body; you know, all the things that have been accumulating for literally years upon years. Supposedly, people swear by it and even do it on a regular basis - - if it worked, I'd do it.  I'm not sure if it does, and I can't know until maybe after tomorrow when I revisit the local grocery store and this time not forget the onions! I also forgot the green tea, dishwashing detergent, and Dr. Teal's liquid foaming bath! Am I just nutters? I mean, I go to the store, I have my list, and yep, the chocolate stopped me dead in my tracks, and there I was just forgetting when I should have been remembering. Happens a lot. It happens more often than most of us want to admit, but I do admit. I think it's a way of reaching out and asking for help -- at least I was smart enough to pick up the chocolate!

    According to the science behind the detox (the onion on the feet thing) you're supposed to do this sort of thing on a weekly basis for at least a month to get as much of the goop out of your body, but it's supposed to free up your blood flow, allow oxygen to flow better in those renewed blood cells, and it's even supposed to help your mind think more clearly and without fog brain. I don't know how that all happens, but I have no problems stinking the dog out of the bottom of the bed to find out. She'll have to sleep up top for a minute and/or get used to the smell down around the footboard. My feet are a good five feet and three and a half inches from my nose so I'm good. She, the dog, on the other hand, is usually curled up between my feet which doesn't really allow me much opportunity to move about at night. We have a rule in our house; we don't disturb the dog if its sleeping or even if its just next to you. You just don't upset the dog. Cats don't count.

    What else do I do for fun and to make myself beautiful? Well, I drink a cup of cucumber juice with either apples or pears every night. Some nights I put a half a lemon in the juicer too and live on the edge! I take Sea Buckthorn, papaya root, ginger, Maca, and chlorella every day too. I guess you can say I'm a walking experiment to see if any of these anti-aging gimmicks really work. I eat correctly, exercise, do the battle ropes, and oh yeah, I box! I love boxing. You know I don't do it correctly, I'm not out there trying to compete, but my neighbors are too afraid to come up the stairs to see what's going on. One of them asked my daughter once because she thought I was beating my kid! LOL

    OMG, the water is getting so much cooler, and it's been 24 minutes. I have 6 more to go. I can't wait to see if the water in the bucket is black as tar...wouldn't that be really scary and exciting at the same time? I would scream. I don't think I could take photos of it because to get the water out of the bucket I need both hands and really, who wants to see dirty water? I'll just tell you about it, and you can either choose to believe me or not. OK...gonna rest here for 5 minutes and then pour out the water, come back and give you a full report. Be back!!  Take this time to listen to a great song or two from one of your favorite singers and remember to thank Jesus for the great day He's provided. 

OK! OK! No more stretching to reach the keyboard! I'm back up closer to the desk now, and yes, my feet are the cleanest they have ever been probably.  Thirty minutes in water with baking soda, apple cider vinegar, and Epsom salt will do that!  So, I poured the water out into the tub fully expecting to see some discoloration from the apple cider vinegar as you know it's a bit dingy in color; not quite brown, but getting there.  The water was a solid brown.  There was a consistent even distribution of the same murky brown, not a really ugly ungodly mess, but dirt brown if you will. There had to be a slight gray hue to it to make it that dull. I would think maybe there really is something to this "hack" or "trick" and after doing the onion thing maybe tomorrow or Friday, I'll make it a weekly thing to do one or the other and see if I can get the blood pumping even better. Woot!

    So if you're out on the Net and you're searching for cheap and easy things to do to make yourself gloriously wonderfully youthful, try the detoxing stuff first. It's all about the poop friends, and it's all about getting the nasty right out of you. Can you imagine how wonderful our world would be if everyone was just wasting the waste and kicking the crud out of our bodies? We'd all be so much nicer to one another. I for one, think it's worth the effort!  

Photo Credit: Check The Sethings

You are Known.

 God explains to us more than a dozen times, in various parts of the Word, that we are known even before we are born. He shows us, guides us, even commands us to read and study the Word so that we will not be uninformed about the matter. We are literally made in an amazing way for an equally amazing reason. Each of us, without exception, if we have breath, are made for a unique and wonderful purpose. I know that for some people it's really difficult to grasp that a God who is so far away and seemingly unapproachable would even give a damn, but that's just it; He's everywhere, close by, and He cared enough to do more than we can imagine.  God gave us His only Son! You and I would never do that. We could not, would not, and should not be giving up our children to save others. Romans 5:8 tells us that "God commended His love for us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."  This is part of the Roman Road, and I'll leave a link to that at the bottom.

    We are known by men when we are famous for something; or infamous, I suppose.  Billy the Kid is well known, but not for passing out free popcorn at the theatre.  He was a murderer and a gangster, a loner too, but he was a rebel.  He was well known at the time he was living and he's well known now, over a hundred years since his passing.  Donald J. Trump is well known. He's even famous.  He's infamous to some, and famous to all; you can't take away his celebrity status just because you may not like him. I tell people that he's not the man I'd want to marry. He's not the man I'd want to invite over to a BBQ, but he does know how to run a business, and by golly, he did know how to run our country for a minute too.  He was and is well know.  God knows DJT as well. He knows Billy the Kid.  He made both.  Whether or not you and/or I agree, God sent Jesus to die for both men; and for you and me. The very same.

    God knows you. He knows every single itty bitty thing you think and hope for. He understands your frustrations and your confusion. He may not act as fast as you want Him to act, but He always answers every last prayer if you'll be in tune with His Spirit and listen.  He either says "Yes" or He may say "No", but I find that a lot of the time God asks us to "Wait" because whatever it is that we're asking for may not fit in just yet with what He's got planned. Believe me, if He doesn't have whatever we want planned, you're going to get that "NO" answer and it may be rather abrupt at times. You can usually test your request with the Word and see if it lines up. It won't ever change; believe me, I've tried. If God said "No" to something in the Bible and you're trying to make it happen in your life -- yeah, not gonna happen. We need to figure that out right now. God isn't a magic genie for us to conjure up and ask wishes of.  He is absolutely sovereign and fully God; not a puppet to play with.

    Some people suffer from a multitude of issues including anxiety and depression. I know I have really close friends who suffer from both. The hard part about that is, that depression means you don't really care about anything and anxiety can mean you put too much emphasis or care into it. To have both these emotions running rampant at the same time must truly be agonizing!  That's when you KNOW you have to be really grateful that God commended His love for us.  He's there! He's waiting for you to talk and ask. He's willing to reach and help.  I can't tell you how to do it, how to actually let go, but I did it. I can honestly say that I'm not worried about really anything. I've detached myself from needing to be so attached to the world that I don't mind if it sort of falls apart around me. God promised He'd protect and care for me, and I believe He will. It's literally the most freeing feeling EVER.

    Because we are already known we don't have to beg God to figure out who we are. We don't have to question Him about what we need. He knows what we need. We just have to accept what He says is what is good for us and be willing to do what He commands and makes ready for us. You can think of it as if you're at the school cafeteria and holding out your empty plate! The cafeteria ladies (and sometimes guys) give you what is there, what is available, what they made for you, and since it's regulated and supervised by a contract, you know it won't hurt you. God is the supervisor, God is the regulator, God is the Judge, the Jury, and the Father. (You thought I was going to say Executioner...Ha!) God knows you. He will and does provide. In fact, He's already supplied whatever it is you need, but if you haven't received it that's on you for not asking. We have not because....that's right, we ask not. (Another good verse)

    So, if you have time today, and if you don't, pray.  Get somewhere quiet, take a dog or cat with you for support. Talk openly and really get into the conversation with God because just like any other Father, He's there to listen, and to guide. He's willing and He's really really excited about being there when you ask to include Him.  He wants to help.  In Revelation Jesus said "Behold (Look!) I am standing at your door knocking. If you'll let Me in I will dine with you."  You have to open the door! He has already made the invitation.  It's OK, let Him in, He knows you. He loves you.

Photo Credit: Bridge Bolton

Love is as Love Does

 I don't know that I coined the phrase "Love is as love does", but I do say it a lot. I also say "God makes more" when someone asks if they can have the last cookie, or take the last this or  that. My first and usual response is, "No worries, God makes more" because I know I can go here or there and pick up another whatever it was. I don't like to think I'm bound by limits; if something runs out, I go get more. If that becomes impossible to do at some point, I may have to start being less giving and really, I don't want that to ever happen. I pray that never actually happens. 

    It's the same with "Love is as Love Does" because people do things, and whether they do it out of love or duty, they end up holding another person hostage by obligation at times. I don't like that. I don't want to be that way. I wouldn't want to feel like I need to be paid back, and I wouldn't want to feel that I had to pay something back if it was given to me. You know what I mean. There are those who say they love you, and then do something for you so they can get something from you. It happens. It has happened to me too, and it never really set well with me. I always felt that when I felt obligated I didn't feel loved. Not really. I didn't feel that way with my parents when they gave to me. I didn't ever feel that way when my grandpa gave me something or showed me how much he cared for me. It's with other relationships I suppose; the romantic type, the friend type, the colleague type, even the church going friend or associate type. At work you can usually expect to be obligated but that's not really love. It's duty.

    Love is as love does is something I try to keep close to my soul. I think out loud about it, I think silently about it. I try to ask myself if what I'm doing or planning to do (or wish I could do) is out of selfishness, thoughtfulness, duty, or what?  I want to know. I want to act ONLY if it is out of love. I don't ever want to say those words "I love you" and then do something expecting to be paid back.  Never. I just really really don't want that. I hope that I can say "I love you" and out of my pocket or heart give willingly, openly, and genuinely, so that whatever the person needs, the person I said I love you to, whatever they need - - they can have whatever I can offer. If I can't offer it, and I do love them, I will try to find a way. I won't simply say, "I love you, but I can't help".  I will say (even if I don't use the words) "I love you, let's see what we can come up with to make a difference."  It doesn't always work, but I do want that for my soul. 

    You know those people who "wish you the best" and then say "Love you", or "I really love you brother/sister, you mean so much to me" but if you were in need (real need) they would find a reason not to help you because it would take time, it would possibly take money, and God forbid they give up comfort! No, love is as love does. If someone really does love you, and their spirit is humbled before God in their devotion to you, they will find a way. It may hurt, and it may be really hard on them too, but they will do what they know to do; and that's ask Jesus for the peace only He can bring. Does that sound really "churchy"?  Well, where do you think LOVE came from, folks? We didn't create it. 

    Love is as love does.  God gave us His only Son out of LOVE.  Jesus laid down His very life, for love. Love, I may add, for all souls, not just the ones we like and think deserve it. No, He died for Vladimir Putin the very same as He died for Billy Graham! Ol' Vlad may not say so, but you know Billy would be the first to give a nod.  Jesus literally commended His love for us, in that while we were dead and living in our sins, died for us. (Romans 5:8). If you are suffering, and you've reached out, but no one is willing to help you - - even so called friends, family, fans, or church members who wave and blow empty kisses to you; well, that's not love. It's a kind of love maybe, but not love. It's a liking perhaps, but it's not love. It's not something you can count on, and it's certainly not something you can trust.  We all do that to others; I'm not innocent of it either. I want that to change.

    I don't want to use the words too generously. I don't want to throw those words out as if they blanket everything and everyone. I am not God. I can't give that much. I can't care that much. I can't begin to understand His ability to genuinely love me and the rest of the world as much as He does. I can do what I can do. I can love who(m) I can love. I can give what I can give, and I can pray for the help I know He is willing to supply if I can't find it myself.  Do I love? I do.  The ones I love know I do love them. They know I will literally give my last for them if I had to. I am faithful to know I am not alone in my giving, I have the Father and I have Christ. It's not always easy, and from time to time it has cost me far more than I ever imagined it would, but it hasn't lessened my love for them...not one bit. Love is as love does.

    "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." (Matt: 7:12)

Photo Credit: Ma Daily Life