Gratitude LIst 18DEC21

 What am I grateful for today?

1.  I slept for 7.5 hours last night!  I've been having so much trouble sleeping and the last few nights have been extra bad.  Granted, I had to take the generic night-time flu hot drink to get the sleep, but I got it.  Today was awesome--even though it was super busy (and rainy) at work, because I was rested.  It has some meds in it that rise blood pressure, though, so I can't take it on the reg.  Just now and then when I really need it.  

2.  I'm thankful for friends. When I posted about the above-mentioned sleeping problem on FB, several people responded with specific methods to fix the problems and specific substances/products which could help me sleep better.  

3.  I'm thankful for the--now, traditional--Christmas Lights at Mozart's to which Rachel invites me.  We went last night and it was a beautiful time!  The lights were lovely.  The musician did a great job (and he was lovely).  I tipped him $10 and he gave me one of his newest CDs! (He also rubbed his tummy when he talked to me.  The significance of that is something I'll explain in another post (if you remind me.)    Anyway, today--on my longest day of work, I listened to the CD ( Nik Parr and the Selfless Lovers 'When the Bars close down) every time I got in the car. It was really beautiful!  Of course, I liked some songs better than others, but they were all great.  What a talent he has!  He writes the lyrics and music, sings, and plays the saxophone on the CD.   I count myself blessed that I was given a love for music from my parents and that I enjoy all sorts of genres.   

I'm the luckiest girl in the world, y'all! :)

Gratitude List: 15DEC21

So, part of my counseling is--when I pray each day--to pray and be thankful for my blessings.  I figured it would also be useful for me to look back on (in the future, if I need reminding of how blessed I have been in life) to have it written down.  So, here goes...

1.  I am thankful to Todd who first asked if I had someone to talk to to help me keep climbing out of the depression rut I was in. And--to the elders, who are willing to use the Lord's money to help with the emotional/physical/spiritual needs of their flock. I am so blessed.

2. I am thankful that God--when He designed me--gave me the ability to connect with people very easily.  Not only does it enable me to make small talk and figure things out (like what small, inexpensive gifts I can give my delivery tribe for Christmas that will make them happy) but also that I can lean over and tell an older woman that her hair is beautiful and not only mean it, but also make her feel wonderful.  I love being able to do that (and mean it)  I am so blessed.

3. I am thankful--right now--that I have a decent job, although it is sometimes stressful.  I make enough to eventually be able to take care of all the things that are needed.  Obviously, there are times when it gets a little tough (like now--it is gonna a TON to get the car fixed so that it will pass inspection and I can get it registered and titled in my name) BUT it will eventually be done and I can breathe a sigh of relief.   Eventually, I'll even be able to start saving money for my move to Seoul. I am so blessed! :)

Like Alice, 19NOV07

I wrote this poem 14 years ago during an especially dark time. I don't even remember why I felt this way, and--I do NOT feel like this now, but it came straight out of my grieving heart at the time. I want to share it (for those who've never seen it) so that it might help those who don't have to deal with depression to understand how challenging the struggle really is.

It’s hard to keep my chin up.

There is no ‘Little Chopper’ living here.

Each step is as through sea water,

And I do not feel Him near.

I feel like this might be my fault.

I’ve allowed it to come to this place,

But I don’t want to keep struggling onward

With this fake smile painted on to my face.

This is not one of those cases, y’all

Where I don’t believe that He is Him.

I know that He is this Great Body of Water

That I just ain’t swimmin’ in.

I’ve allowed myself to wander, broadly.

I’m down here in this grave of a pit.

It’s cold. It’s dark. I want outta here,

But I just can’t seem to climb out of it.

Why is this bed so much more comfortable?

Why does my head hurt this way?

Why does Pinocchio's nose grow?

Because his heart and his mouth don’t agree.

Can’t you feel that I feel lost?

Can’t you see the tears in my eyes?

Can’t I be brave enough to tell you?

Can’t your heart see through all my lies?

I need help. I need a way out of this pit.

The bottom seems miles from the top.

Like Alice, I’m falling, falling, falling

And I can’t figure out how to stop.

Out of the Mouths of Geriatrics: Burnt Toast

 I'm still learning all the little intricacies of my new home. During my second week, I re-learned how to make coffee. I used to make it as a teenager on a regular basis. However, since my teen-aged days are 22 years in the past, I will confess to forgetting how to accomplish that particular house-making skill. Additionally, I've learned the patience required in filling the pillbox of a person suffering from numerous afflictions. And, I've also re-learned how to use several appliances.

Yesterday, I learned the toaster. I know, I know--the toaster is easy, yeah? Well, it turns out--on this toaster--that the dial cannot be turned higher than a two or the toast will burn. This fact is ESPECIALLY true if you've toasted more than one piece of toast in succession. Usually, I make sure that Guy and Gal have their food and medicines before I sit down to eat. As this is the case, it happened that yesterday my toast happened to be the last one popped into the toaster. It was the third piece--in a row. Needless to say, one side of my piece was severely burnt.
I didn't really want to waste the piece of bread because it is not only really delicious, but also really expensive bread. Those of y'all who know me won't be surprised to learn that I was going through this "shall I or shan't I" discussion with myself out loud. So, Ginevra--the eldest of Gal's three kids--immediately instructed me not to throw the bread away, but--instead--to take a knife and scrape the burnt part off the toast. I tried it. It worked really well. Seriously, Ginevra should know! This burnt toast dealio with the knife has been part of Oak Street's Standard Operating Procedure for quite a while.
Seems that when Ginevra was a youngun', she was eating breakfast at a friend's house after a sleepover. When her friend's momma presented them with the toast portion of their breakfast, Ginevra became very upset.
"That isn't the right way to make it!" she exclaimed vehemently. The friend's momma, uncertain as to how she might have fouled it up, asked Ginevra to explain.
"Well," said Ginevra in a didactic manner, "that just isn't the right way to do it! My momma takes it out of the toaster and scrapes the black stuff off of the side!!"

Out of the Mouths of Geriatrics: Tree Trunks

 This morning, Gal and I were trying to get her up and ready for the day. Today, however, the search engine in her computer was working a little slower than it normally does. Bless her little heart, Gal could NOT remember how to do a certain something that we do every day. So, I encouraged her. I cajoled her. She was not budging. Finally, she said to me, "Look me in the eyes. I love you, Loralee. I do not want to hurt you. Lifting me will hurt you."

Gal said it all so earnestly that I decided to see what I could do to convince her of my astoundingly solid strength. I proceeded post haste to the bathroom, picked up the scale, and carried it back into her bedroom. I placed it as close to her wheelchair as I could get it, so that she could see the numbers from where she sat.

"Lookie there!" I said to her just as earnestly, "I'm super solid. I can handle lifting you, I promise! That scale says 187.2 pounds! (Now don't judge me. I've heard from various sources that weight fluctuates over the course of the day.) She declined my help once again, citing a similar protective reason.

"No!" I said to her quite desperately. "Feel these muscles!" I flexed my biceps in demonstration of my super-hero-like strength. She shook her head, so I decided to pull out the big guns.
"Seriously Gal, I promise we can do this!! Check out my quadriceps! Do ya see how solid they are?" I flexed my right quad, and then pounded it with my closed fist so that she could properly 'check it out.'

It wasn't to be, however. At least not at that moment. Gal was quite determined that we couldn't lift her together. She shook her head vehemently just before replying to me, "Yeah, I know. It sounded like a tree trunk when you hit it!"

Out of the Mouths of Geriatrics: Voting

The congregation where I worship here in Tyler (at cumberland road and broadway) allows the city government to use to building as a voting house. On a recent Tuesday, an elderly couple were leaving the building just after voting. They were strolling along slowly, holding hands. As they passed, the lady said, "Now don't go thinking that were doing this cuz we're in love. We've got to hold hands just to make it across the parking lot. If we don't, we'll fall! Actually, we just met in the parking lot."

From the Cobwebs: Unfinished poem...(I guess??)

She stays with me, unhappy and hurt.

She stays with me, unforgiving and bitter.

She stays with me, unworthy.

She stays with me, unwanted.

I want to love her.

I DO.

I want to forgive her.

I DO.

But somehow, I cannot.

I want to hug her and tell her everything will be okay

and at the same time.

I do not want her to stay.

Out of the Cobwebs: Out of the mouth of Geriatrics: Popcorn

 Out of the mouths of Geriatrics: Popcorn

I laughed out loud--loudly--last night as I was putting the gal to bed.

She said to me, "I don't like you lifting me so often. You might get hurt.

You're no bigger than popcorn."
well, now, I hope she means a kernel and not the jumbo bag at the movies.

To be honest, though, I'm pretty sure she means the kernel because she is

constantly saying, "you have such tiny ankles!" and " wow, you have

narrow feet!" and expressing shock and disbelief that I really weigh

as much as 185 pounds. In some ways, the gal is good for my ego, yeah?

Out of the Cobwebs: Out of the Mouths of Geriatrics: Nicknames

October 23, 2009

Out of the mouths of Geriatrics: Nicknames

Marguerite is so funny sometimes. She says the most off the wall things and

makes me laugh and laugh. She is one half of the couple for which I care.

This morning she was telling me about how she gave her two granddaughters

nicknames. So, I told her about how my grandmommy used to call me

Angelpockets. Marguerite piped up with "Why, cuz of your butt?"

Later she told me she was just kidding, but I think I laughed for five minutes.

From the Cobwebs: Reconnecting Twenty: It's All About Mr. Goldhorn

 17 Oct 07 Wednesday

Current mood: pleonastically palaverous



It's all about Mr. Goldhorn

Author's Note: 99% of this blog is dedicated to Jeff Goldhorn. To whom the other 1% is dedicated will be revealed a bit later.

Whilst commencing this blog, I would be both remiss and a prevaricator if I attempted to persuade you, my dear readers, that last weekend's conversations with the former Miss Garza's Jeff were negative ones. Why, such an assertion would be fallacious and could not be proven using any scientific, reasonable, or logical means!

Jeff's enjoyment of my intelligent, and perhaps pretentious, word-stock does, in no wise, exceed the benefits I received from his etymological adoration. Indeed, my felicity at his regard was exponentially higher than the gratification he received upon hearing my verbal and flowery offal.

At his behest, I have constructed this Seinfeld-esque treatise whose termination is imminent. If, as a result of this loquacious essay, a smile were to reside on the visage of the young Mr. Goldhorn, then I, this blissful ink-slinger, will indeed be living in a canaanitic utopia!!

Therefore...to you, oh bespectacled and flaxen-haired youth, I dedicate this ebullient and enthusiastic eloquence. Let the merriment abound!!

p.s. the other 1% is dedicated to Craig Corporon who kept me in stitches in science and art classes with his own special brand of verbosity!

p.p.s. I know those of you who have actually bravely stayed through 'til the end of this blog prolly think I'm one crazy gal, but I wrote with purpose. Jeff demanded a starring role in one of my blogs, preferably one with many big words. Therefore, I introduce you (points to picture at top of blog--he is the tall one with blonde hair and glasses)(It has since disappeared, BTW--2021) to Jeff, the star of a verbose blog about nothing but words. Enjoy, Jeff!! (tell Veronica I said hi)

p.p.p.s. I hope Brian is reading this and notices that I'm listening to Huey Lewis and the News right this very minute!! They still rock!


Currently listening :
Greatest Hits
By Huey Lewis & The News
Release date: 23 May, 2006

From the Cobwebs: Reconnecting Twenty: Brian Brady

I wrote this immediately after our 20 year Reunion...so, sometime in the Autumn of 2007.

Current mood: happy

My memories of Brian Brady are few. I remember his curly hair. I remember that we rode Mrs. Bailey's bus together to Dobie Middle School and that we had lockers very near each other in sixth grade. I, also, remember that he was a pretty nice guy, even though he once admonished me for my use of the word "Shazbot" (Mork and Mindy anyone?) in exchange for the "S" word.

"You know," he said to me straight-faced and seriously that long ago day, "You might as well just go ahead and use the real word." I don't recall my response, but I know I walked away from that interaction chastised and obedient. I never used the word "Shazbot" again.

Those three years flew past us, as did the following four, and the following four and the following sixteen; and here we are, meeting again for our twenty-year reunion. Most faces looked familiar to me, but I must confess that when I saw Brian last night at Rodney's "Old School" after-the-game shindig, I didn't recognize him at first. The passage of twenty years had changed him. Gone was his curly hair. He was taller. He was wearing glasses and the laugh lines that decorated his ever-youthful face seemed to declare that the years that had passed were happy ones. But though there were changes, when I really looked into his face, I recognized the Brian I knew in middle school.

He seemed to recognize me at once. "Hi Lori" he said as he hugged me with the one arm that wasn't holding a drink. What ensued was the normal "So, whatcha been doing the past twenty years?" conversation. While it was nice to hear about his adventures, that conversation was not the one that has stuck with me. It was the next one.

We were standing in Rodney's garage and Brian turned to me. "You know, I have to tell you two things I've noticed about you" he said, matter-of-factly. "Are they bad things?" I asked him apprehensively. "Well" he answered seriously, "one of them is." My heart thumped a bit more quickly, and, accepting the inevitable, I asked Brian to give me the bad news first.

Whilst pointing to my TOTALLY ROCKIN' COOL Huey Lewis and the News t-shirt and shaking his head grimly, Brian informed me that my beloved shirt had to go into the rubbish bin, but quick!! A smile graced my face as I realized his joke, and I awaited eagerly the good news. Brian, once again somber and serious, said to me "The fact that you came here to our reunion without wearing any make-up is the ultimate in cool. You are just being yourself." He laughed as he said, "It says a lot about you that you are willing to wear the t-shirt of that LAME band, even here at an activity where most people want to impress and things can sometimes get a bit pretentious." He stopped and looked at me slyly out of the corner of his eyes. "I mean, look at me! I rented a car to drive to the reunion!"

Our conversation continued. We talked about this and that and while I don't remember what was said, I do remember how I felt. I felt special. I felt beautiful. I felt vindicated, especially in light of some of my recent wranglings with self doubt. My regular readers will remember the extra long blog that accompanied the approach of my recent birthday. I have reconciled, inside myself, those feelings, but it is nice to have some reinforcement from an outside source. I can be attractive and worthwhile just by being me. It's good to know that about yourself, yeah? I hope I always remember that fact. But what I really hope is that, from today forward, Brian will know and remember —that to this 38-year-old, who still has a teenaged and a bit unsure Lori Ford hidden somewhere deep inside of her—he will always be a little bit of a hero.


Currently listening :
The Living Years
By Mike + the Mechanics
Release date: 25 October, 1990

Yellow Butterflies

 I saw two yellow butterflies yesterday. I was so happy and said to them, "Come see me, Yellow Butterflies," but they flew away. And suddenly, I was so struck with grief over Daddy that I sobbed for a minute. Maybe it is this Covid that is messing with me and making me extra emotional. I just think it is so weird, and unsettling, and kind of amazing how I can--out of nowhere--have such huge, all-encompassing, overwhelming feelings about missing Daddy a whole seven years after he's gone. I miss his voice and his big hugs and his wise words of wisdom and everything. I love you, PDF!

From the Cobwebs: Reconnecting Twenty: Notebook Lost...Notebook Regain'd

As y'all know, these "From the Cobwebs" posts are old posts I found hidden away in different locations that I'm just reposting here cos the other locations are not easily accessible anymore.

23 Oct 07 Tuesday 

Current mood: mischievous 

     While on a trip out of town a few weeks ago, I misplaced my writing notebook. When I realized it was missing, I freaked!! I re-traced my steps several times and then freaked again when I still couldn't find it. I had just written a blog that was really important to me...and now it was lost. Not only was that blog gone, but all my ideas for future blogs and old ones that I haven't posted yet. Perhaps so that you get my mindset at that moment, I'll repeat: I freaked. 

     The following poem was written (mostly) at that time when my mind was freakin' out. I realize it's a kinda lame poem, but the thing about poetry that is really really great is that it paints a true picture of your feelings when you write it. The mostly finished poem has sat in my (back-up) writing notebook (yes, that means I brought an extra one with me when I went out of town...just in case.) for two weeks and today, something made me think of it again when I was reminded of Milton's poems. The last line or so were written today after that remembrance. 

     I knew that this poem was not really a fantastic one which would make the world a better place, but I figured I should at least try to make someone laugh...even if it was only me. ;) It's not epic poem, but i hope you enjoy it, anyway. If you want to know what happened with my lost notebook, keep reading. All will soon be revealed!! 

 NOTEBOOK LOST...NOTEBOOK REGAIN'D 

My heart is missing.

I cannot speak.

I feel so empty.

I feel so weak.

My words are missing.

No way to convey.

The things I feel

That I must say.

Things to cheer 

a saddened heart.

My mouth sewn shut.

No way to impart

The things I've learned

along the way.

Like when to go

And when to stay.

Where is my mouth?

Where can it be?

Without my heart

I can't be me.

Where is...

Oh, Wait! There it is!!

Over there!! Underneath

My camoflauge jacket!!

p.s. i really did find it under my camouflage jacket (at the local family dollar store where we'd stopped before heading back home to my bff, Carrie's house). The fact that we often joke about not being able to see things which are camouflaged didn't occur to me until after i wrote the silly ending. muuuaaahhhhhh!! 

 love y'all, Loralee ;) 

 Currently listening : Midnight Train to Georgia By Gladys Knight & the Pips 

 Release date: 18 November, 1997

From the Cobwebs: Surreal Seventeen

Surreal Seventeen Another transplant: :) Current mood: giddy and giggly It was a Saturday evening. It was probably about 7:40. The sun was setting. Actually, it was already down, but it was in that in between stage where everything is still completely visible and the shadows haven't really started descending yet. I was in the passenger seat of a blue Mustang heading to a play at Zilker Park. The radio was playing a little tune that was filled with the hope of things to come that usually only a teenaged heart can feel. Beside me, driving this stick-shifted muscle car was a completely gorgeous, football captain-esque, conventionally good-looking 22-year-old guy. This whole moment played out like the dream date of a 17-year-old girl. The funny thing is that I'm sooooo NOT 17 anymore. Under my belt sits an additional 20 years. When the realization hit me, I giggled. I was glad that he either didn't notice my giggling, or that he politely refrained from inquiring as to why I was giggling cuz that would have been hard to explain. But, since I never really had that kind of hopeful, youthful, "Wow, I TOTALLY can't believe I'm sitting next to this, like, TOTAL FOX!!!" experiences when I was 17 years old, I decided to sit back, and enjoy the setting sun, the 80s-esque music on the radio, and the gorgeous 22-year old beside me. I just kept giggling (in my heart) in the same way that any reasonable, self-respecting 17-year-old girl would.

From the Cobwebs: How I feel about This Bothersome Predicament, PART 2

Another transplant written near the end of a long lasting crush...haha 02 Aug 06 Wednesday Current mood: feeling a little stronger Back & forth and back & forth and back & forth I go. When will my heart fall off this ride? I only WISH that I could know. Our friendship is so comfortable, we talk and laugh with ease. and feeling safe to be quiet with him is, surprisingly, a breeze. Sometimes cool and distant, he's barely aware that I am here. yet the next moment, I catch him in that high school kind of stare. What is he doing? What does this mean? I dislike this state of in-between. My heart is on this rollar coaster; up and down I'm flying. I'm so confused. My keel is uneven. Sometime I feel like crying. So, what to do? My heart is in riot Do I tell him how I feel... Or do I just keep quiet?

From the Cobwebs: Ides of March

16 Mar 06 Thursday The Ides of March Current mood: contemplative Yesterday was the Ides of March...the well known anniversary of the death of Julius Caeser. The story goes that a soothsayer gave him a warning about that middle day of the month of March in 44BC. Some say that he tried to stay inside that day, but that he was eventually convinced by Brutus to come along to the Senate meeting anyway. His enemies killed him at that meeting, thereby etching him and that date into the collective consciousness of educated people for centuries. That day has another meaning for me. In 1986, the Ides of March was on a Saturday. I remember that fact because it was the day that I took the SAT test my junior year. Mom was driving me to Smithson Valley High School for the test. I remember it being a cloudy day (which are my favorites) and we were driving along Loop 1604 in mom's car/truck thing. (You know those ones that were popular in the mid 80's. A car in the front and a truck in the back...kinda like a mullet...business in the front, party in the back!! ) I remember having a conversation with mom while we were on our way to the test. Suddenly, I remembered what day it was and the historical significance of it. I mentioned it to her and I also remarked that perhaps, since I remembered this tiny fact in the car, that, perhaps, I might not do too badly on this important test. I remember her gruff yet somehow encouraging reply that I would do fine and that I should quit worrying myself. I remember nothing else about that day except for that one minute snippet. I don't remember the test, the ride home, or absolutely anything else...except that interaction with my mom. I think I remember it because (back then) the moments when I felt encouraged and appreciated by her were so few and far between. Of course, things have changed now. As she and I have both matured, I have grown to really like and respect her. And she has gotten softer and grown more openly loving. The funny thing is this: I know in hindsight that Mom certainly did the very best she could and chose to do what she thought was best for me and my three siblings. So, this leads me to wonder why in the world I ( a person who had two parents who loved her) has so few happy memories from childhood? Also, knowing that she did try her best and yet the result was still what it was...how can I change the future? If ever I am blessed with a Christian husband and a few little ones, will my babies not have many good memories also? even though I KNOW that I will strive diligently to make them feel loved? Will I simply follow the familiar path and example of my parents? Is there something I can do differently? Cuz, you know, sometimes doing just one thing differently can change the world. After all, think what would have happened if Julius Caeser had stayed home.

From the Cobwebs: Those Ignorant Bible Bangers

I found this article (errr...rant/whine session) recently and thought it was still apropos. You can tell how old it is by the 'Myspace' reference! LOL 12 Feb 06 Sunday Current mood: just wanting people to think, Man All right, so I'm surfing through the site (myspace) last week, and I run into a young lady who wanted a forum on a controversial topic. Some people with biblical views joined into the discussion, and when 3 of them had opined--then came the hate. One guy responded (I'm paraphrasing) with, "Will the stupid, ignorant bible-bangers please shut-up? Learn to think for yourselves." So, were all just ignorant fools, huh? Why? Just because we dont believe the same things you do? Who is intolerant now? 1) You say, "Bible bangers put the Bible above science!" 2) You say, "Creation can't be proven by scientific tests!" 3) You say, "Why do you believe things written by men? How can you believe something that ignorant men wrote?" 1) I say, " True science agrees with true Christianity." People have said that carbon dating proves that the world has been around for millions of years. Well, guess what? These half-life tests don't necessarily prove anything. The same bunch of trees that are considered "millions" of years old by the carbon dating process the day after Mount St. Helen's erupted in 1980 were alive, and processing carbon dioxide in order to give us oxygen SECONDS before the lava covered them. So, really, if you think about it logically, there is NO WAY to prove that the carbon dating process is correct is there? I'm not trying to get all persnickety and say nothing scientific is true. I don't believe that, but I just don't get people who don't have all the info, and yet they call other people ignorant. PLUS, science is EVER-Changing! Additionally, the Bible discussed a few scientific proofs that weren't even discovered by modern man for more than 1,000 years. For example, Matthew Fontaine Maury was reading in Psalm 8. The writer wrote about the "paths of the sea." It was from this passage that Mr. Maury decided to start trying to find these "paths of the sea" and finally did find the connection between water and wind and those aforementioned "paths." The writer of the book of Job discussed the "springs of the sea" which, by the way, weren't mentioned by scientists until the 1st century. Job was written long before that time. The book of Leviticus discussed the truth that "the life is in the blood" and it wasn't until centuries later that it was discovered that the blood system carried oxygen around the body, thereby giving that same body life. There are plenty more examples, but what I'm trying to suggest to that gentleman who calls all Christians stupid, ignorant people is that--perhaps--he should check his facts. There is EVIDENCE in this world that shows that Christians may just possibly have reasons and proof for what they believe. 2) I say, "so what if Creation can't be proven by scientific tests" Do you truly believe that the Big Bang OR evolution can be proven by scientific tests? They can NOT be proven. That is probably why it is called the THEORY of evolution, not the FACT of evolution. I think it much easier and reasonable to believe that a Creator designed all the intricacies of our world and our bodies (Occam's Razor, anyone?) than that a big explosion occurred and the world began and--by CHANCE--an ameoba grew to a salamander to a bird to a dog to a monkey to a human being. The latter idea is much less conceivable than the former. You would NEVER believe that an explosion occurred in a truck factory and when the dust cleared--VOILA!!--there sat a forest green F-150 with all the trimmings, would ya? You KNOW that there is a designer and creator of that truck. You KNOW it. You, also, would not believe that an explosion occurred in a Swiss watch-making factory and when the dust settled--VOILA!!!--an expensive and intricate Victorinox sat there gleaming in the sunlight, would ya? But you can believe that the much more intricately designed earth and all the inhabitants on it could happen just by chance? You KNOW it is not possible!!!! In fact, you would say that the Ford or Victorinox scenario was ridiculous and you'd scoff at the mere idea of it. and, still, you stubbornly cling to the idea of the Big Bang theory and evolution. Yet, you are calling Christians ignorant people who believe the unbelievable. 3) I say, "So, what if several different writers wrote the canon of the Bible?" That lends all the more credence to its being written by the inspiration of God!! All the basic themes both in the Old and the New Testament agree. Some may say, "but there are some inconsistencies." I encourage them to look at the situation. The context of the Scriptures will show the agreement of all the texts of the Bible. When you talk to someone from a different part of the country with a different accent, different vocabulary, different background, different experiences etc., will you not possibly be saying the same thing in different ways? YES!!! It happens all the time. And when you make a more concerted effort to communicate with this person from across the country, will you not then understand that y'all are saying the same things? Yet, when it comes to things of a religious nature, you--once again--stubbornly cling to the idea that anything related to God should not, could not, and will not follow those same rules! Pretty interesting! Additionally, each different biblical writer not only comes from different experiences, but also they were writing to different groups of people; therefore, it is highly conceivable that they might choose to communicate in different ways, use different language, focus on other aspects of the same situation. Intense study would show the complete agreement of each biblical writer. The "so-called" inconsistencies that you claim occur sure do make a lot more sense when you look at them with a well-studied, logical, open-minded eye. And a final note, stupidity is not a common trait inherent in all Christians even though Hollywood and the liberal media would like to paint us with that brush. I--personally--came to Christianity(at 22) after seeing undeniable proof in black and white, as did many of the intelligent, worthwhile, moral, respectable people I know. In fact, doctors, lawyers, scientists (yes, I said scientists) are some of those ignorant fools you derisively call Christians. You don't need to call me ignorant, though. That's Miss Bible Banger to you.

From the Cobwebs: Jacks on a chalked sidewalk

jacks on a chalked sidewalk Current mood: awed As we walk side by side, talking, I must look up to him--and in more ways than just one. Instinctively and without hesitation, he reaches out to catch and steady me as I fall--just the teeny tiniest bit in love. He is honorable and seems to treat everyone with the same amount of kindness and thoughtfulness--and I just can't help but admire him. And though I've said all this to the air; and expect nothing to come from it...I wanted it to be said.

Words of Affirmation: Uncle Charles

From my facebook memories this morning: A nice visit from Uncle Charles who is now in paradise with Lazarus & Abraham...awaiting the day of judgment. Glad he came to visit me this morning. September 23, 2020: This morning I awoke about 4:45 a.m. from a dream of some person telling me I was ugly or something like that. Now, normally I would say, "Dude-your opinion about my looks is one of 7.7 billion opinions on this planet. It probably matters to your mama and maybe six other people. I'm not one of those six." But strangely, this morning, after hearing it in my dream, my crying actually awakened me.. So weird! Charles Graham Loralee, God has made you one of the most beautiful persons I know. Dreams sneak in from satan just to try and break that Christian attitude. Hang in there. This is uncle Charles speaking🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

From the Cobwebs: Freudian Writings

 I found these two in my emails, actually.  One was inspired by a dream I had and one was inspired from the one inspired by the dream. Ha!  They were written in the Summer of 2006, if memory serves.  Anyway, here they are:

2031 A.D.

I was in the kitchen trying to get to the stove , but he was purposefully getting in my way. "Gideon, honey, please... I need to stir the rice before it burns." He put his hands on my shoulders and stopped me with a teasing look. I looked up at him, trying diligently to disguise the laughter that was bubbling up inside of me with a feigned look of annoyance. It was a difficult task, however, because the laughter in his eyes was infectious.
I looked up at him with love, my eyes roving over his features which, although they were ever-changing, I had long ago memorized. I reached up to push the auburn hair out of his eyes. "You need a haircut," I started to say to him, but stopped and smiled instead. The carelessness of his shaggy locks made him look so young. I looked up into his brown eyes. They were still smiling at me, in the same endearing and youthful way they did the day I met him 22 years ago. The freckles which were brushed across his nose and cheeks gave him such a familiar look. Many members of my own family were blessed with those same angel kisses.
When I finished my perusal of him, I looked back into his eyes and felt such an intense ache of love for him. He smiled back at me and wrapped his long arms around me in a tight hug. His chin rested quite cozily on the top of my head. It always amazed me that he could do it. It seemed almost wrong (but not really) that he could be so tall. He placed his hands back on my shoulders and pulled away from me, smiling still. He placed a kiss on my forehead and said with affection, "I love you, Mom." Then he turned around to the stove and stirred the rice.

And for this one...I realized today that the year in which it is 'set' is THIS year.  Interesting...Interesting.

2021 a.d. 

The bunk beds were placed around the perimeter of the cabin and our two bunks had been placed perpendicular to each other in the front corner. I was lying on my stomach with my head near the open window at the foot of the bed. My cheek rested on a pillow which was summer cool and soft. I held her small hand in mine, and as I gazed at her sleep softened face, the wind teased the hair at her temple into a brief dance. 
My eyes roamed over her face. She was just so beautiful. Her auburn hair was a family tradition, of sorts. My hair, as well as my mother's hair, had that exact same brownish-red hue to it, but on her, somehow, it looked more beautiful, by far, than ours. Her pale face was dotted with freckles of varying shapes and sizes. She reminded me so much of her brother, Gideon, who had turned 11 the previous September. 
The two of them brought such joy into my life, just at the time when I was beginning to lose hope. Gideon made his debut just after my 40th birthday, and Emma-belle followed him almost four years later, in May, just before her PaPa's birthday. They were both so precious to me. At times, it absolutely amazed me that I had played any part at all in creating these two wonderful treasures. 
Their father was my friend long before we decided that we loved each other. We were part of a group of young people who worshiped, played, laughed, and cried together. Some people thought we were an odd match, but the friendship and respect that we felt for each other just naturally grew into something "infinitely more dear" and we just could not ignore it any longer. We married two winters before Gideon arrived and four years later came our little Beauty to complete the family. The years have flown by so swiftly, and it is hard for me to believe that my baby is eight years old and that we are here at Camp Hensel, together, experiencing the wonder and fun of being a camper through her fresh and inexperienced eyes. 
The wind blew in again through the window screen, awakening me from my wool-gathering. As it did, Emmabelle sighed in her sleep and turned over to face the wall, inadvertently removing her hand from mine. For a moment, I felt bereft without the warmth of her hand in mine. I decided that I was going to have to get used to this feeling. My son had grown older and taller and he seemed to need me less and less these days. I knew that I would have to endure the same loosening of the apron strings with my little Emmie, too. 
As I pushed the errant tendrils of hair away from her face, I decided that I wouldn't dwell on it too much. I had a few more days...weeks...months...perhaps even years of her adoration. I'd just take what I could get for now, knowing, from my own experience, that both of them would come back around eventually. 
I turned over onto my back so that I could try to get a little nap myself before the rest period ended. I smiled to myself and drifted off to sleep as I heard her murmur "Mommy" in her sleep. 

From the Cobwebs: Bittersweet Blossom and Hunter Gene

 I found this while going through my emails. It is from 2008.  Spoiler alert--it is a little sad.   Also, please forgive any typos. I'll clean it up later.

Loralee Ford

Sat 6/21/2008 10:54 AM

To:

•  info@c3mgmt.com

Hello,
You don't know me from Adam, but I felt very compelled to write to y'all.   I don't really know how to go about this kind of thing, so please bear with my inexperience.   My name is Loralee Ford.  I recently attended a family reunion in Lubbock and on the plane home, I met someone really kind of fantastic.   At the bottom of this note, I'm going to include a poem and a blog which I wrote about this 8-year-old boy I met on the plane.   I am writing to y'all for two reasons:   1)  Hunter is a huge fan of Kevin Fowler.  On the way home from Lubbock, he entertained me (quite well, I might add) by singing all the Kevin Fowler songs on his IPOD.   This 8-year-old adores Kevin's music.   MOre importantly,  though, is the second reason.  2)  Though Hunter doesn't know the severity of it, he has a tumor on his brain stem.  His Daddy told me that he probably won't last a year.     I know it is an odd request, but I am actually going to plead with you to consider asking Kevin to visit him (Hunter lives in New Braunfels) or at least leave a message on his website at Caring Bridge (http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/huntertownsend).    Thanks for hearing me out.
sincerely,
someone who cares about that little boy,
Loralee  

" Words are the Voice of the Heart"
 

15 Jun 08 Sunday

He Picked A Bittersweet Blossom Current mood: completely devastated   For Hunter Gene, who unhesitatingly offered me his friendship and unknowingly changed my world The almond blossom had barely bloomed in my sight when it began to fade away. But please don't presume, as others might do that, in my heart, this flower won't stay. I saw it bloom for only three lovely hours on a bright sunny Father's Day, And the grief I felt as I walked away was so much more than mere words can say. You WILL NOT fade in vain, oh flower of youth! The world will grow from your seed. Let us loudly proclaim your tale of great hope and together we shall help those in need. Bloom, precious almond blossom; bloom with all of your might! Please Bloom while yet you still can. Let God's light of love shine out from you until He calls you to walk, hand in hand. fin As I walked onto the plane in Lubbock, I had no idea that my world would never be the same again. I looked around for a window seat, but I could tell in one quick glance around the cabin that I wouldn't get my wish. In hindsight, I must say that I'm glad I didn't get my wish cuz if I had, I would have walked right past the empty aisle seat next to Hunter and his Daddy. After my initial query, Dad said the seat was empty and I sat down, happy to have a place to sit on this rapidly filling flight which we learned later was filled to the brim. After I sat and took in a deep breath, I turned to my left to greet my seat mates. A huge, happy smile, blond "summer cut" hair and bright blue eyes greeted me unhesitatingly. I felt welcome immediately. It was wonderful!! Greg (Dad) stayed pretty quiet, but Hunter (my blond, blue-eyed, smiley-faced seat mate) and I talked about everything! Siblings, cruises, IPODS, wrestling, the travel schedule of kids from broken homes and so man other things. After the captain announced our descent into Dallas, Hunter turned to me. "Loralee" he asked, "are you going to go with us to Austin?" He was just so straightforward with his kid logic. We were enjoying ourselves. Of course we should plan to meet up again when it was time to board the plane. On some level, a part of me felt so gratified that this kid liked me enough that he would invite me to spend more time with him and his Daddy. My heart was just bursting with that kind of happiness you feel when you've made a special friend, know what I mean? I had to bite back a smile because I knew where he was going with this question. I decided to answer his question with as much seriousness as he has posed it. "Yes, Hunter, I'll be on the same plane as y'all will be." Only seconds has passed when he asked, straightforwardly, "Well, will you sit with us?" Y'all know my answer, yeah? "That would be lovely, Hunter. Thank you for inviting me." He smiled at me and said, "Yeah and I can teach you how to use your new IPOD on the next flight!" I'm sure it's patently obvious, but I'll state clearly here and now...Hunter charmed me. There really is no other word for it. With his invitation for me to go to his grandpa's home after the flight, and his "You're weird" said in a voice full of the affection which is hard for 8-year-old boy to express, and his continual offer of gum cubes so that my ears "aren't hurted.", and the way he just had to run to catch up with me as we disembarked from the plane, he charmed me and made me feel so special and so extra-super-sure that there is no way on God's green earth that there is any bad in this world. And then the bomb dropped. Quite casually, Hunter mentioned the tumor in his brain. I wasn't worried, though, cuz Hunter and Greg told me all about the medicines and the steroids and the chemotherapy and the radiation he had had. It looked like things might be on the upward path, perhaps. There seemed to be hope, although no one came right out and said it. I guess I should have known then that I had misread the situation, but I didn't seem to have a clue. While all this was happening, my brain was racing! Suddenly, I knew what Homer, the Hero Bird's next adventure would be. Somehow, it would involve Homer, somehow helping a kid (strangely enough, a kid named Hunter Gene who was battling cancer) to some special play land or hospital or something that would make his world better or heal him or something. I was so excited and I knew I would dedicate the book to Hunter and that someday he would read his children this book. Everything was going to be okay. I just knew it!! At the end of the last leg of our journey, Greg handed me a paper with Hunter's website information on it. I was honored, really. Greg trusted me, a virtual stranger, with personal information about his son. I was looking forward to keeping up with the happenings in Hunter's life. The three of us chatted about this and that as we prepared to de-board and then walked down toward the baggage claim. The excitement and scariness of the escalator put Hunter several feet in front of Greg and me. I never imagined that when Greg thanked me for entertaining Hunter that it would be the beginning of a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad conversation. Greg hesitated before starting again. "He's got brain stem glioma" he said seriously and then lowered his voice to a whisper. He dropped a bomb which hit me like an atom bomb. "He's not going to make it," he said with a shake of his head. "Oh no" I whispered as both my heart and eyes began to cry. Hunter was still ahead of us, hanging on a safety gate and being distracted by the sights, sounds and colors swirling about him. I tried to hide my devastation just in case he looked back at me and saw the feelings on my face. It was hard...very hard. Sadly, my ears kept hearing things that continued to take every ounce of wind of my sails: -"He has less than a year." -"He doesn't know, yet. How can I tell him?" I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my face. I wonder what Greg thought of me...crying about Hunter's fate when I'd only known him for three hours. I briefly touched Greg's arm in a gesture of comfort, but really, I wonder if I didn't need the comfort just as much. I know I'm repeating myself, but I must say again: I was devastated. The only thing which brought me any peace during these moments was the understanding of God's plan. I know, without a doubt, that Hunter will go to Heaven if he dies at his young age. He is too young, too innocent to have been corrupted by this world and to have strayed from the path God has planned for us. That is what makes this so hard for me today. I know some horrible people. One in particular. While he is not a murderer, he is a thief and a liar and he continues to get away with it. He continually and purposefully commits sins...and comes out smelling like a rose to the people who are the most important to him. And he doesn't seem to be having to deal with ANY consequences, yet this precious, beautiful, warm, friendly, loving jewel of a child is dying. "UNFAIR!!!!!!!!" I want to scream as loudly as my mortal voice will allow me to do, but I don't guess it will do me any good. We were never promised a rose garden...at least not on this earth. What we are promised is the chance to prove ourselves...to live through this vale of soul-making and all it's hardships with our love for God still intact. Man, sometimes it's hard, yeah? But at this exact moment, I know one thing for sure: I want to make it through this life still faithful. There are many reasons for this desire of mine, but one of them is certainly the knowledge that I'll be able to hang out with Hunter again. I made a few other decisions today after meeting Hunter. The next Homer, the Hero Bird book? I'm not sure he is going to be cured, but there are reasons for that decision. Homer's job will be to explain to him what is going on and then get him up to Heaven with God. This book has to be a book whereby parents, like Greg, can explain to their children what is going on now and what they can look forward to experiencing when they go...a bit too early...the way of all men. I sure hope my talent for writing can stretch that far. This feels so important. If I can figure out the hows and the wheres, this book HAS to be published and HAS to be popular because surely a (hopefully) large percentage of it's profit will go to San Antonio's Santa Rosa Children's Hospital in Hunter's name. So, I have two requests of you, my dear faithful readers: if you know how I can do this—on the publishing, marketing, advertising end, or you know someone who does PLEASE let me know, yeah? Keep Hunter and his family in your prayers. This is going to be such a soul-wrenchingly hard time for them. Encourage them!! Though Hunter doesn't know what his prognosis is, he does know he has a tumor. I think he'd really enjoy having notes of encouragement from as many people as is possible. (http://www.caringbridge.org/ then type in with no spaces the name HunterTownsend.) Thanks, y'all! And in case I don't tell you often enough, if you're reading this blog, you are probably someone important to me. Thanks for being a part of my life and making it a better place. I love y'all! Currently listening : White Flag/Paris By Dido Release date: 2003-09-16