Surprise!

The season is fast approaching when bell ringers position themselves outside cold store fronts, collecting coins for the needy.  Almost without fail, each year brings word on the evening news that a valuable coin has been donated by an unknown good-hearted person.

I also leave surprise presents sometimes.  They are not given to bell ringers but  I may choose to drop the surprise outside storefronts where they stand, or inside, wherever there is a handy depository, i.e.  trash bin.  My surprise "donation" is NOTHING like gold coins.    Nope.  It's pooh.  Dog pooh to be exact.  You see I have two dogs to walk each day and after they do their business, I pick up the offending product using the bag in which my morning newspaper arrives.  So far so good, right?  There's nothing unusual about this practice.  Ah, but you are not me.

Having two dogs means two leashes and busy hands.  Add in to the equation a bag of pooh and you might understand why sometimes I carefully place the wrapped up product into my coat pocket.  There.  Now I can better control the dogs for the rest of the walk.

Two or three hours later finds me doing errands around town and slowly I start to notice the car stinks, or is it the air outside of the grocery store?  The odor is so faint that it takes awhile for me to put two and two together.  Oh!  I've got pooh in my pocket!  Silly me!

So as I approach a business or the library or the local Caribou, I hunt for a "donation box".  With a bit of guilt easily brushed aside, I rid myself of the obnoxious "cologne" and continue on with my day.

The next time you see a bell-ringer, think of me.

What I Know About Mice

This is what I know about mice:

They travel in a line over pillows.  I know this is true because it happened to my mother when spending the night at her sister’s farmhouse.  Her head must have been a road block on their nightly excursion.  I think she heard them singing the song from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: “Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to work we go. . .”

They can be scared to death.  Literally.  I know this also because of my mother. She spotted a mouse in her house, and screamed so loud the mouse fell over dead on the floor.  This saves on purchasing traps and wasting good cheese.

Their tails can fall off if you twirl them around enough times.  My four year old, who owned a pet mouse, forgot to count how many revolutions are required for this to happen, but eventually it does happen.  Warning, there will be a bit of blood to clean up.

I know other things about mice that aren’t so interesting to report because you already know them, but mention them briefly I will.  They leave droppings wherever they go. They live behind the walls in your house. They know how to gently lick peanut butter off of traps without springing them.  They hoard dog food by hiding it in the basement in the boxes of Christmas decorations.  They destroy fabric.  They like to visit in the spring and fall.  No one invites them.  They just show up after having been gone all summer.

So this is pretty much what I know about mice.

Jealousy

Jealousy was common;

  envy tagged along.

It seems these nasty feelings had been with me

  way too long.

Was it because I felt so empty?

  Was it insecurities?

Did my lack of passion and purpose

  feed these feelings deep in me?

Struggling to know direction

  Wanting to have a “call”

I’d look at other’s successes

  I’d criticize them all.

Then I met with Jesus,

  in a place of joy and light

He told me I had purpose

  He told me wrong from right.

The strengths I saw in others

  were give to them by Him

They were given with a purpose

  to bless all of earth’s men

Their strengths are for us all,

  and in this we should be glad.

Whatever someone else does well

  is never ever “bad”.

So now when someone’s talents

  shine for all to see;

I thank my heavenly Father,

  for helping me to see.

As I Look in My Mirror . . . 

I am looking at my face.  In a mirror.   I can see how I’ve aged, complete with puffiness under my eyes and a mottled skin tone that comes with 59 years of life.  I could focus on that.  But instead I look at my eyes.  The eyes.  That is where I live.  In there somewhere.  I am reminded that the outside of my being, my body, although a gift from God, is not really all that I am.

The inside of us is a jewel, a fascinating, complex creation.  You know,  the outside can often betray what is inside.  See that obese woman walking down the street?  Her thighs swish together, she saunters sideways, trying to propel her excess weight forward.  On the outside, she is not really a pretty picture.  But if we give her the time, if we explore what is behind her eyes, we will see someone with complexity, with gifts, with personality.  We just don’t know what’s inside her skin.

Or, we could be looking at a man with cerebral palsy, hardly able to form a sentence without stuttering or slurring his words.  Take note!  He has something to say.  There is a person in there who is articulate and intelligent.

Even the simple folk in our world, those who have been gifted with a mental impairment, they have a wealth of personhood, of personality and temperament waiting for us to discover.

So I look in the mirror and see me, and I see God's mark.  I am made in His image and it is a humbling thing to ponder.

Nothing’s Perfect ‘Til Heaven

Nothing’s perfect until heaven.  For instance, take dogs.  If you’re a dog lover, you’re right with me on this one.  Can there be a more perfect pet than a dog?  Need I list their wonderful qualities such as unconditional love, sloppy exuberance when you walk in the door, following you around the house and protecting your house from bad men at all times of the day and night?  I could seriously go on and on.

My point?  These seemingly perfect companions also eat poop.  If you leave dirty underwear on the floor, it’s like taking them to Baskin Robbins.  You’ve heard the Bible verse about a dog returning to its own vomit?  Yes, it is true.  That they will do!

So dogs serve as a prime example of how nothing’s perfect, not even dogs, until we get to heaven.

This has been a belief of mine that has been slow in coming.  We can tend to want the perfect family reunion, perfect spouse, perfect home and neighborhood, perfect island get-away.  Get over it.  There is no perfection in any of these things.

Does that mean we should expect the worst and be grumpy old men in our walk through life?  Nope.  Let’s hope for the best, let’s make situations the best they can be.  Just remember that we live in a fallen world filled with fallen people, surrounded by imperfection.

The fact that we long for perfection, as CS Lewis would say, hints to us that there will some day be a place of perfection.  Maybe when we get to heaven there will be wonderful dogs who no longer desire stinky things.  I’m convinced there will be family reunions beyond our wildest dreams.  It will all be good and it will all be perfect.

So wait.  Enjoy what we have now with the understanding that it will never be perfect until heaven.

I am so looking forward to it!

Good Bye

There is a house closing going on this morning.  Right now as a matter of fact. A home is being sold.  An old family home.  It is a home that saw the birth of children, the scraped knees, the bountiful meals, the leaving home to fight in wars or marry or join a convent.  It is ordinary in every respect except for one thing.  It carries the memories of a particular family.

There are a few remaining old pine trees in the back yard.  Approximately 80 years ago one was planted for each child.  The walls  heard tell of the youngest child running away from school one day.  He had to make it to the train depot no matter what his teacher or his parents said.  Ignoring Dad's order to stay at school, he arrived in time to say goodbye to his favorite brother.  The brother was leaving for WWII and never came home.

The house probably heard the sobs of that young boy the day he was delivering  newspapers and found out his brother had died.  No one told him.  He read it in the daily paper.  The house witnessed grandkids coming to stay a few days in the 50s and 60s.  It witnessed the failing health of the parents, their passing, and the youngest child's inheritance of the house.


Now it is empty.  Every last item removed, every photograph, every dish, even the electric beer sign over the kitchen sink.  


It was not a perfect family.  What family is?  In fact, it holds dark secrets.  Yet, it also holds laughter and joy and love.  


Everyone has passed away.  Everyone who would want to live there is gone.  The wood and the walls, the basement and stairs will belong to another family.   And our family's time there has come to an end.  


Good bye old house.  Thanks for the memories.

There was a piece of board under the stuffed chair.  It was part of the chair's skeleton and that is where I hid it.  When does darkness enter the heart of a child?  Darkness it was when I hid my sister's treasure.  I don't even remember what her "treasure" was;  I just remember I hid it and then lied about knowing it's whereabouts.  It could have been candy, or money, or a toy.  It's not important what it was; what is important is that I stole it; hid it; and lied.  And at a young age.  

Patsy called on Dad to help her find it so he asked me if I knew where it was.  What choice did I have? I had hidden it, already setting the stage for deception.  One lie was an easy next step.

At some point my guilt got the better of me and I revealed everything.  For that guilt, I am thankful.  Having a dark place in the soul where deception is easy to commit necessitates one's need to feel guilt.
Think about it.  If I felt no guilt for anything, I could be a psychopath - killing others without remorse or sense of wrong.

So, yes Patsy, I stole your treasure.  Here it is.  Spank!  Ouch!  Ah Dad! Yep, I deserved it.

Hello Blog!  Hello any friends out there who remember me at this place!

I have been gone so long I forgot how to get here.  Tis true.  The only reason I am here right now is because I found an old friend's blog via facebook and she follows my blog (or used to).  I wonder if I'll be able to get back here after this posting.  Yes, this is challenging for me.

I have something exciting to share though.  And it might affect my blog.  Here it is:  I have joined a writer's group.  That last sentence should be in CAPS because it is very exciting for me.  Unlike many who like to write, I never had an inner "pull" to attempt being a wordsmith as a child.  In fact, I never had any encouragement to try it until I was an adult.  Could it be that it was something God had hidden in my innermost being that couldn't come out until later in life?

So in this writer's group, I am finding I LOVE to write - about anything.  Well, mostly about memories at this point, but it will evolve to more, surely.  The group is so affirming and encouraging - seeming to love anything I write!  They are being kind, I know, but they feed my soul and so I keep writing.

I have learned I don't have to know what I'm going to write about when I sit down.  The story comes as I apply the words and sentences.  Sometimes I'm surprised by the ending - as if I'm not the author at all. Strange huh?

This is what I've discovered about myself through this experience:  I write short little diddies.  No novels for me, no research.  Just simple story-telling based on real life experiences.  My daughter, who is gifted in writing, will some day write a novel.  If she sits down to do a writing exercise with me, say we both will write about chipmunks, her 10 minutes will be given to setting the stage for a long story.  Mine?  You get the whole package in just a few paragraphs. Beginning, middle and end.  Isn't it cool how different personalities offer variety in things like this?

So, now that I've introduced you to my new passion, check back once in awhile for a short story or thought.  Comments are welcome.

The Wee People

Have you heard of the wee people? The Irish tell of sightings in the woods and crevices of their fair country. It is mystical sounding and delightful to imagine a little person scampering about beneath the flora. Think of The Borrowers. Wouldn't you love it if they were real? Well, I encountered a wee person this week. You think I jest? Would I make this up? (ahem)

I had just hung up from a cell call with sister Patsy, put my phone in my pocket and carried a box to my bedroom closet to store. As I was reaching up in the darkened room, there was the faintest voice coming from down near the floor. Just a squeak of a voice, barely audible to my ears. A wee person, me thinks! (imagine Irish accent here.) Can it be?!! As I look toward the floor, I hear it again! By this time I'm imagining a little person with red frizzy hair and a peasant outfit (just go with this okay?) Heart is palpitating. . . wee person? . . . wee person? Patsy. Huh? Yes, Patsy. She's in my pocket, saying hello? hello? Who's this?

My phone had not locked and had redialed her! Oh, what a disappointment (sorry Patsy)! I had NOT encountered a wee person after all. But they are there, folks. Some where. Keep your eyes out.

Out West

How did the early pioneers survive in Nevada? It's beyond my comprehension. It is a desert, folks! If the electricity went out, in 2010, they all would DIE! No kidding. Just coming back from a visit with Ashley in Utah, we flew in and out of Las Vegas. Yesterday, as we prepared to fly back home, the temperature was 110. How can animals survive, let alone people? It wasn't much cooler in Utah. Although it is the high desert, it still was in the 90's and made hiking in the afternoon prohibitive.

The scenery is awesome. Tall, rugged mountains with peaks, and also a healthy mix of mesas (flat top mountains). This area of the country is supposed to be dinosaur heaven for those who like to dig in the dirt. My family does. You can't or shouldn't remove bones if found, but it's fun to look. All we found was some petrified wood, which is pretty cool.

Patrick and I flew to Utah to visit Ashley for a family weekend at Falcon Ridge Ranch. We saw the little colt which she had the privilege of naming (Inferno). Oh, and we all three got to experience equine therapy. It was so cool! Although I was the only one who was thrilled with it. Ashley was too worried about us getting hurt by a horse to really relax. Each of us were instructed to put orange cones arranged on the ground so that we made an enclosure, big enough for a horse to fit inside. So we each made our space. Mine was right next to the white fence, in a rectangle. Ashley's was in the middle of the corral in a large undefined shape. Patrick chose to make a large triangle, using only 3 cones. Next, we were told to work individually, or as a team, to bring one horse into a space, settle it down, and then step out of the space. The goal was to keep the horse in the space. We could not speak nor re-enter the space. All we could do was stand in front of the horse to keep it in place. We had two horses in the corral with us, so on one occasion we had to keep the other horse out of the space, while keeping the other one in! We were to relate the boundaries we had set up to boundaries in our own life. We were each supposed to decide what boundaries are important to us in our family, and don't want others to cross over. The therapist spoke with us as we completed different steps about our thoughts, etc. It was quite fascinating.

Over the course of the weekend, there were a couple of parent-training meetings which were very very good. Also, we had free time with her. We went to Zion National Park one day, and to St. George another. On the day when we had the most time together to freely do what we wanted, it was Sunday and many things were closed! Grrr. I also looked into us going on an ATV ride out in the desert, but it would have been close to $500! Darn. Someday maybe.

Ashley continues to do well at the ranch. She is hoping to come home for another visit in July.

All for now.

If you had any doubt . . .

If you had any doubt about what life is like in Saudi Arabia, have I got the book for you. It is written by Carmen Bin Laden, ex-sister-in-law of Osama. She met her future husband, one of Osama's 20 plus brothers, in Switzerland, where she grew up. They fell in love, married and lived for awhile in the USA. Little did she know what she was getting into when she said "I do." To be fair, her husband, so far (I'm still in the book), is not like many of his brothers. He seems to go along with the barbaric traditions of his nomadic ancestors, and Muslim faith, in deference to his family. Inside, he is not like them. After schooling in the US, her husband decides they should go to Saudi Arabia to live. Carmen knows little about the Muslim faith, let alone the peculiarities of Saudi Arabian culture. At this point in my reading, she has been there about 3 years and is barely enduring the secluded life of a woman in a country where she is no better than property. She is an intelligent and bold woman and is hoping Saudi Arabia will come into the 20th century instead of remaining in the middle ages. After a few years, things did not get better, but worse. Now she has 2 daughters, not a son which would offer her many benefits and protections should her husband die. With only daughters for children, if her husband dies, she would be under the control of one of her fanatic brothers. She and her daughters could never leave the country without his permission.

Are you interested yet?

Lincoln this, Lincoln that

It's Memorial Day -- and raining. Not to fret. Jeff and I just got back from a fun two days in Springfield, IL. (Did you know there is a Springfield in every state?) We stayed at a bed and breakfast which used to be broken up into apartments. It was built over 100 years ago. I tell you, I felt like I had entered a Humphrey Bogart or Jimmy Stewart movie. There was the woodwork - everywhere. Stairs, winding. A front desk with a small closet where each room's key was on a nail. The amenities were great although i did not partake in all. Each day at 5 pm there is free wine and cheese in a central location. Every evening, after we had been out and returned, there on our door knob was a basket with 4 homemade chocolate chip cookies. Marriott, beat that!

We had a whirlpool bathtub, a remodeled bathroom with a pedestal sink and clean tile, etc. One day, after many people had checked out, I walked on 2nd and 3rd floor and snooped in all the rooms. There were some stunning options.

This was a Lincoln weekend. I'd say there were 3 favorites for me: 1. Lincoln's home; 2. a Frank Lloyd Wright home to tour with original furniture, light fixtures, wallpaper; and 3. (the best) was the new Abraham Lincoln museum. After touring the museum, you feel like you were a fly on the wall and watched him grow up, marry and die. Go see it.

Frankie's home was dark, but the layout and feel of the place was very appealing. It would be a great place to live if only the lighting was better (they had all light fixtures set at 1904 wattage (15) for historical accuracy), and if those darn mission chairs had a curve for the spine. The furniture is great, except the chairs have perfectly vertical backs. Once, when the owner's tried to get rid of the house and the furniture inside, no one wanted the straight-back chairs. This turned out for the benefit of the home - now museum. The chairs did not have to be found and bought back. Go see it too!

Lincoln's home was a two story colonial of sorts. The wallpaper was garish, but in style then. We also toured one of Lincoln's law offices and learned that on occasion, Lincoln came to work after having argued with his wife. His law partner would notice a tear in Lincoln's eye, and disappear for an hour. When he returned, all was well with poor Abe. Did you know his wife was admitted to a mental hospital by her one surviving son? She really was a bit off. Everyone has their own suffering, don't they.

Well, all for now.

An Iris in the Spring

Today is beautiful. Warm. Sunny. Dry. Irises have bloomed in our front yard. They have without doubt the most lovely smell. Next comes Lilacs. Today I walked past a lilac bush which had almost a spicy aroma with the sweetness. Curious. It's amazing to me how God can make such a luscious smell that is not too heavy, or too sweet, like some perfumes can be. People have tried to duplicate God's perfumes and put them in bottles. Have you ever smelled a bottled perfume that smells remotely as fresh, light, intoxicating as an aromatic flower in the sunshine?

We humans can make some wonderful smells - usually associated with food. For example, homemade bread, coffee, bacon, apple pie, Thanksgiving turkey, all produce in us a deep breath with a smile as we enter their vicinity . But even these, with their comforting smells, cannot compare with an iris in the spring.

Traditionally, consistently, without fail, I have had extreme nausea when pregnant. Ask my relatives. It is so bad, even the smell of water can make me up-chuck. One day during my pregnancy with Ashley, God gave me a reprieve. For one day (and this had never happened before), the nausea was gone. One day only. Our neighbors in Red Wing, Minnesota, had a back yard completely filled up with flowers and plants. There was a path through the garden, so I left in-house prison for a walk among irises. Oh, the smell! I believe I got teary eyed, so appreciative of the break I was experiencing. God had given me a gift of flowers with irises. I don't recall if the nausea came back that afternoon, or the next morning, but it did. Just as bad as always. I don't know why. But even today, irises make me think of that day - a present from my Father above. I absolutely LOVE the smell of Irises in the spring.

Gross Factor: 4 out of 10

What do you call it when you have a duty to do in the bathroom? Did you use the number system as a child? One for liquids, two for solids? It was used in the home I grew up in. And I used it with my children. It was a code to be used in lieu of vocalizing in public the gross alternatives such as "poop". I had not realized it was such a part of our culture, although probably not spelled out anywhere -- until recently. Where did I discover this? In the bathroom of course. It's always educational to travel, don't you think? Well, along the route between Wenham, Massachusetts and Geneva, Illinois, I was educated on the fact that the whole world must use the number system. In a rest area, doing my own business, was a new kind of toilet. I warned you this has a gross factor. Instead of the normal handle to flush, this toilet had a special orange colored handle with instructions for the uninitiated (me). It told me to push the handle up for number 1 (liquids) and push it down for solids (number 2). Apparently this will conserve clean water as one requires more water than the other. I had to chuckle; all the moms in the world have had their private language published. It's offical.

Miriam, my dear, I can so relate.

Miriam and brother Aaron, the older ones in the family, were ticked at baby brother Moses. To be sure, he's all grown up now and the leader of their nation. And he has been the catalyst in getting them out of Egyptian slavery. God got his attention one day, gave him a mission, and Moses accomplished it. That certainly is commendable. He has done all sorts of wonderful things for their people. And he loves God. But you know, there's something younger brother has done recently that makes older sister question his ability to lead.

"He went and married a Cushite woman. A Cushite! Someone who has just tagged along with our people, but really isn't one of us. How could he do this? You know, other people have heard God's voice besides Moses. Hasn't He spoken to us too, Aaron? I'm sure God must be displeased with Moses for marrying that woman. One of us should take over leadership. I bet God feels the same way we do."

Aaron and Miriam quietly began criticizing Moses behind his back. But Someone had Moses' back. God heard the grumbling, and was not thrilled with their attitude.

"Moses, Miriam, Aaron, come meet with Me at the tent. . . Miriam and Aaron, come closer to me. You know, I sometimes choose a person to be a prophet, to tell others messages from me. And when I do that, it is through a vision or a dream at night. That's how they hear My voice. But it's completely different with Moses. With Moses, we speak face to face. He hears me directly, not in mysterious sayings. So tell me Miriam and Aaron, why aren't you afraid to criticize My servant, this man I have a very close relationship with?"

No answer.

Well,the Lord, having a father's heart for us, was angry at His two children. He left them angry and when Aaron looked over at his sister, her skin was white with leprosy. Moses asked the Lord to heal her. Guess what His answer was? "If her father had spit in her face, wouldn't she be humiliated for a few days afterward?" So Miriam camped away from her people a short distance for 7 days. Then her skin was okay and she returned.

Miriam dear, I can so relate. Here's what I do that's uncomfortably like you. I look at someone in authority or higher responsibility and see something wrong, or something I think is wrong, and get critical. Then, to make matters worse, I am convinced God is right with me on this one. He's agreeing with me, in my imagination. I'm thinking God is opposed to the other guy, but in reality, He is opposed to my self-righteous judging of someone I'm not responsible for. Ouch.

Raccoons, a Cat, and Tulips

Another beautiful Sunday morning. There are pink and yellow tulips outside my corner window. It's in this spot I can see the neighbor's cat, who is very pregnant, walk slowly through our yard.

I'm not sure, but it seems she is interested in the crawl space under our spa room floor. Maybe she wants to birth her babies there? I'll be surprised if she does; I believe it already has tenants - raccoons. We don't know for sure if there are raccoons under there, but I certainly heard a ferocious animal quarrel coming from under the floor boards a few months ago, and since we occasionally spy raccoons in our yard, I think that's who is sleeping under our house.

This is very gross, but there is another reason for us to think "raccoons". Up on the roof, outside Patrick's bedroom window, we occasionally find a rather large animal dropping. You can't really call it a "dropping" because it definitely is more than a mere drop. Enough description. It must be from an animal of some size. Please don't tell me it's a human up there. Raccoons I can take; peeping Toms who like to go potty on my roof - not so much.

Crow brains

I wonder about the lives of crows. Ever since I heard they can live up to 50 years, I became interested in what goes on in their minds! There's got to be something going on in those small brains to survive for 50 years. Do they each have their own personality?

I had a pet parakeet once. That bird had personality. He would sit on the side of my bath tub and enjoy the show! Ha ha. He would fly onto my head, grab my hair and hang upside down, looking at his reflection in my glasses. Really!

You may wonder how he got around so freely in our home? We let him fly around freely, back in the day when I guess I wasn't so concerned with droppings. Ewwww! Sounds unbelievable now, but we allowed it. Of course, he didn't do his business constantly and often I was around him close enough to clean up after him. Nevertheless, the Department of Sanitation would NOT be pleased.

Back to crows. I'm convinced all birds have their own personality. We just aren't allowed the privilege of being intimate with them since they are wild, and don't need our companionship. If they COULD talk so we understood, what would they say? "Hey Oscar! See that guy down there walking his dog? Can you hit him on that bald spot? Five points!"

The end.

To be chosen by a horse . . .

Would that not be special? Especially for a young girl who has believed lies about her self worth. Skunk has chosen my daughter, complete with going to her when she calls, following her across the corral, and nuzzling her leg and side when being brushed. The equine therapist says Skunk is an aloof horse, sometimes bossy, not real social. Skunk chose a girl who has been aloof, not real social, and in need of a friend. A horse is honest. They don't put on airs, or pretend to like a person.

Well, Skunk is going to be a mom soon. She's due this month and is "heavy with child"! I asked Carole (the horse woman and clinical director), if Ashley can be present when Skunk gives birth. Carole said the mares usually like to have their babies when no one is around. She might go out in the morning and find a new foal. So what she told me is that if she finds Skunk having already delivered, she will make sure Ashley is the first girl out there to pet the babe and enjoy the moment. Isn't that cool?

We so long for the approval of people. But isn't it worth gold to have the approval of an honest animal, who sees not our shortcomings, our big nose or thick waist? They see inside, as God does.

Teases and Creamses

Showers and Breezes
Curtains a sway;
Teases and creamses
A warm spring day

Tulips, and robins
Sweet songs and sweet scents
I care not, I ask not, where the snow went.

Come sit for awhile on my porch in the eve
We’ll drink teases and creamses and laugh in the breeze

Dare I say that word? OBEDIENCE

If you are like me, the word obedience does not have a joyful ring to it. How often is the word used in a sentence that brings something pleasant to mind? But,if I think Biblically, or rather believe the Bible, it is something that is to result in being blessed.

I've had a taste of that blessing on occasion... usually when I am walking in submission to the Lord in some area of my life - I mean a specific area. Example? In the last 4 months I have made a choice to abstain from some things in my life that had way too much control over me. Actually, this was more involved than a mere choice - it has required support from other people, literature to read, steps to take. Here it is: I joined a 12-step program. (No, I'm not an alcoholic). I have chosen abstaining from trigger foods that have become an addiction to me. The blessing? I am walking on air. There is hope in heart for walking free from the bondage of those trigger foods. It makes me feel better about myself. I'm actually losing weight (which is a nice by-product of breaking the addiction). So this is a positive - by obeying God's directive to not let anything have control over me.

There has been another way I've seen the blessing of obedience and the lesson came to me through a non-human being. The non-human? My dog, Kippie. I tell you, having a dog has done wonders for me. Here's the latest. I so want Kip to be able to go outside with us when we work in the yard, or swing on the swing. But we have no fence. Putting her on a leash is okay, but she really can't follow us around and sniff at new things. It's just a drag for her to be chained up (maybe like I've been with food?) Here's what has struck me. I, her owner, deeply desire to bless her with freedom to run around. But I can't do that as long as she won't mind me, coming when I call. She is getting better. Saturday she was out in the yard with us for a good 45 minutes. But then she started wandering off too far and not coming when I would call - so back in the house she went. She lost her freedom.

Don't you think that's how God looks at us? If we will just stay within the boundaries He has set for us, we will experience all kinds of wonderful freedoms we don't realize are waiting for us.

Obedience really is meant to be a blessing. It's when I ignore it that it looks like a chain. The chain is around me when I don't obey. I deceptively think the chain is waiting for me when I obey. That's not true! Obedience gives me wings.