Our church had a hymn-sing tonight, that I didn't want to go to. I was as blue as an indigo bag and consequently felt like I would be a flop socially.  In other words, I knew there would be many young girls there and it would be special to them for me to spend time with them.  I wanted to give our guests a good evening and felt like I had nothing positive or good to give them. I didn't even feel like opening my mouth, for pete's sake!

 We got there, late, and one of the first hymns I was there for was " Does Jesus Care?"  I have a great dislike for the song. It generally gets dragg-e-d out and given the wrong key, at least around here. Usually, I go get a drink right around this song. :D Well, not always, but I sure am tempted!

 But tonight? Tonight, I could've been the author of this song. It was incredibly healing and was so truthful.

 

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained
Too deeply for mirth or song,
As the burdens press, and the cares distress
And the way grows weary and long?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

Does Jesus care when my way is dark
With a nameless dread and fear?
As the daylight fades into deep night shades,
Does He care enough to be near?

Does Jesus care when I've tried and failed
To resist some temptation strong;
When for my deep grief there is no relief,
Though my tears flow all the night long?

Does Jesus care when I've said 'goodbye'
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks,
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

   It cured me. And I think this will always be a special song to me.

   I enjoyed the rest of the song's, and had a wonderful evening. God knew what He was doing when He sent me there tonight.

   For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:9

Selah.

So.. today I had off work. Which was nice. I had plenty of things to do around the house, and other places; I was happy.
This morning I walked to the back of our house. For those of you who haven't seen it, we have a tiny little backyard before it hits the woods. We also have an arbor of sorts at the treeline; a very wild and uncouth wisteria grows there. It hasn't caught on yet that wisteria's usually bloom where they are planted. You enter there, and then go back this shady, little path lined by ferns and hosta's, ending at a little guesthouse, A.K.A playhouse infested with mice. ( I assume) It used to be anyway, and mice don't give up that easily, even if Shelton went in there with the .22 once upon a time.
So this aforementioned area.. ( not the guesthouse) was overgrown, and bothering me. Every time I went back there it would taunt me. So today, armed with a cute little scratcher thingee, and an even cuter little shovel, I waged war. Only, before I began I realized I had some VERY ineffective weapons. For, there before my very eyes, were hundreds of nasty little, and big, and bigger, Poison Ivy plants. I called Mom out to confirm that, yes, I was seeing correctly. ( So much for sueing the lasik surgeon)
So I went for garden gloves and a big shovel.. and ATTACKED! Yay! I won!
So a very wet and dirty person changed and went to wage another war on a plate of food.

Sitting at lunch I was highly amused by my parents reminiscing. It always works that way when they begin to bring out all the old-fashioned names that I've never heard before. The middle names are usually ordinary enough, but the first names are.. ahem, singular. Dad remembers a day when Flexible Joe walked into church, couldn't reach the hat hooks, and therefore threw his hat at the rack. His logic was that if he didn't make it someone would hang it for him. Miraculously enough, it made several graceful loops, and plopped happily onto a hook. Accordingly, a gentle snicker ran through the congregation. Apparently Flexible Joe earned his name by being able to bring his feet to the front of his hips, and walking on his knees.
Or how about the day a bride chased her brother right through the screen door with a big, fat, pin? (I've seen those pins, they're no joke!)
I've heard stories about Happy John, 'Pasching snitz,' Davy, ( Peach slice, Davy) ' Luftich' Aaron, ( hot air Aaron, because of his tall tales) and many many more besides. Every time I think I've heard them all I hear another one. The wives are generally denominated by their husbands name, and then theirs follows.
It's always funny to hear your Mom remark, " Huh.. the man actually managed to get married! Irvin, didn't he marry ____? Snickers.. that would make an interesting couple!" Dad answers consolingly, " Well, but they grew up... eventually."

I mowed the lawn today, all by myself! I have never operated a zero turn mower and honestly, I must have looked hilarious. I just couldn't make the thing do what I wanted it too! It would jerk out of it's way at the slightest THOUGHT that my hands had about moving. I'm afraid I left some very squiggled lines. Shelton, being the thoughtful person that he is, didn't let me see how much he was laughing at me. Humph, why are boys born knowing how to do everything? But I mowed about a third of the lawn, and after awhile had fun spinning in circles.

And here is a quote that I couldn't help laughing at. I've really been enjoying quotes lately. So please forgive me if you get tired of them.

"She dotes on poetry, sir. She adores it; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, herself, sir. You may have met with her `Ode to an Expiring Frog,' sir." -- The Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens.

Spring Thoughts

Today I walked down to the creek and sat on the culvert for awhile. It is hard to be sad when the sun is shining, the creek is sparkling merrily, and there is green grass hugging the water. It was a generally splendid day and I'm so glad we had it.
This particular day will never come again; it's an interesting thought. Whether the day was good or evil, happy or sad, extraordinary or normal, it can never pass this way again. Which leads me to think, fancifully; if days had souls, and minds to think, how would they feel about the unfair allocating of what kind they happen to be? Some days are stormy, some are sunshiny and clean-washed, some pout, some weep, and some make all nature dance for sheer joy!
Likened to people, in a much broader spectrum, we have one life to live, with our own personality that God gives us. Some people are merry and sparkling, dancing through life with a peculiar joy of their own, brightening everyone they meet, while others are quiet, reflective, slow to speak, dependable, wise and even better, slow to wrath, and yet others are quicksilver, impulsive, often causing wounds in other people by their words, and deeper wounds in themselves by their thoughtlessness, but rarely hold grudges, loving, beautiful people and often are more loved than they realize.
I wish we could all be satisfied with what God gave us for our one life, and be content. There is no end to the bad consequences when we're not. God help us to live life and say at the end, 'Life was GOOD' and go to meet death, conquered already for us, and then to our splendid home and Holy God!