Mirror, Mirror

Now we look into a mirror darkly, not nearly as bright and vivid as it once was long ago in our youth. Yet, it does reflect back many, many happy memories. The laugh lines, around our mouth, tell of all the times we laughed until our sides hurt at each other, at our family, mostly at our self.

The lines around the eyes tell of days we spent squinting out the bright sunlight in the warm meadow, full of green grass and dandelion flowers that when blooms left, we could make a wish and with a light whiff, send them scurrying into the crystal blue sky.

The furrows on the brow have to be from the millions of times, we looked for our love to return home to us, or stood with hand over top of eyes staring into the woods, whistling like a Loon for the children to come out from their secret hideout and return home.

Those lines above the lips perhaps, reflect the sweetest wrinkles of all. Those are from all the puckering up to give kisses to those we loved, and love so dearly. Those are some of the sweetest memories of all.

All the wrinkles, all the grooves of time’s road map on our face, are well loved and appreciated for they prove we lived and moved and had our place in the world.

So now when we look into a mirror, we can say, ‘mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most blessed one of all?’ And the mirror echos back through the corridors of time,

“You are, you are the most blessed one of all.”

If you would like to read more of my writings, please visit http://jrmartinauthor.com

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If You Lie Down with Dogs

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The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller – Chapter 31

“Sheriff, read my lips. I do not want any part of the K-9 unit.” Bessie was speaking.

“I know that, but I also know that you have to do this. Deputy Reed is going to be out of the office for a month with hip surgery. I need you to take over his patrol. Bessie, I wouldn’t be asking you, or rather telling you, if I didn’t need this to happen.” The sheriff said.

“Damn it, Sheriff, why do you always call on me for the shit details?” Bessie was mad. She didn’t want anything to do with the K-9 unit. She had never owned a dog, she didn’t want to fool with a dog and she certainly did not consider a dog to be her best friend.

“Bessie, I promise if you will do this I will see you get an extra week of vacation. I swear you will.” The Sheriff was desperate.

Bessie looked at him with a doubtful smirk on her face and said,

“You swear? Put it in writing. Right here on this notepad write the following: I, swear, Deputy Bessie Buemiller will get an extra week of vacation if she agrees to take over the K-9 unit while Deputy Reed is out sick. Write it down and sign it.” Bessie ordered.

Smiling the Sheriff did as Bessie instructed. Then he handed her the keys to Deputy Reed’s patrol car and said, “Come on I want you to meet your new partner.”

The Sheriff and Bessie walked out to the K-9 Units patrol car and the sheriff called on his radio, “Deputy Reed, bring Max out here to meet his new partner for the next month.”

Bessie was expecting a big German Shepard Dog, but to her surprise Officer Reed brought out a big black Standard Poodle. “Well, I’ll be switched.” Bessie said. “I had no idea we had a prissy dog in our K-9 Unit.”

“Don’t let his looks fool you, Deputy. This dog can be vivacious. They were bred as water retrievers. They are smart and make great guards.”

“Oh, ask me if I’m impressed.” Bessie said scowling. But, she walked over to Max and rubbed his head as she said, “Well, hello Max. Looks like you and I are stuck with each other. You’re probably no more impressed with me than I am with you.”

Max just looked at Bessie and wagged his tail. Bessie said, “If you’re going to use this poodle why don’t you have him groomed? He looks like a wooly bear with all that hair.”

“I don’t have him groomed ‘cause I don’t want the entire Sheriff’s Department to laugh at me and Max. If I had him groomed they all would make fun of us.” Deputy Reed explained.

“Well, I think he’d probably like have a little poof here and there.” Bessie laughed.

She took the dog from Deputy Reed and ask him what the dog ate, if he was house broke etc. etc. The deputy assured Bessie the dog was well trained, he said, “He understands his commands, which I will make you a list of and he will obey you and do as he’s told once he realizes you are now his master.”

“Oh, really? Well show me something.” Bessie said.

Deputy Reed turned to Max and said, “Max, on guard.”

The dog immediately went into a stance of complete stillness. He stood staring at the deputy, waiting for further orders.

“Now,” the deputy said, “if I was to tell him attack he would take the next person he saw down. I mean, down to the ground and stand over them until I told him, ‘ease off.’ He’s a wonderful partner, Deputy Buemiller. You and Max are going to become best friends.”

Bessie had her doubts about that, but she took the dog home with her along with the K-9 Unit patrol car and a list of commands she had to memorize. She made the dog a bed, put the water and feed bowl where he could find them easily, and then set about to learn more about dogs used in law enforcement.

The next day Bessie and Max set out on their patrol. The dog rode in the back and Bessie caught herself talking to him as though he was another officer. She laughed at herself, but she noticed every time she stopped the car Max waited for her to tell him what she wanted him to do. Maybe this was not going to be such a tough assignment after all. She kind of liked the dog.

The next day they were patrolling the streets when a call came in that a drunk driver was out on Interstate weaving in and out of traffic. Bessie 10-4 the call and headed to the Interstate. She had no more than pulled on the highway when she saw the car ahead of her weaving in an out of the traffic. This had to be the one she was after.

Bessie floored the patrol car and Max perked his ears up when she turned on the siren. When the car finally pulled over to the shoulder, Bessie pulled up right behind him, ran the tags through records and wanted and exited the car. She told Max to stay. The dog immediately set back on his haunches and watched.

When Bessie walked up to the car she could tell the driver was very drunk. She said, “Sir, could I see your driver’s license and proof of insurance?”

He fumbled around muttering under his breath and finally handed them to her.

Bessie read his name, Albert Finny and his address was in Hawkshaw County. She said, “Mr. Finny, would you get out of the car please.”

He did as she asked and stood by the door. “Sir, do you have any weapons on you or in the car?”

He answered he did not and then she said, “I stopped you sir, because you are weaving in and out of the traffic. I believe you are drunk and I’m going to ask you to do some things for me.”

He nodded his head an almost fell down. Bessie called for Max. The dog jumped out of the car window and came to her side. Bessie said to the dog.

“Guard.”

Max immediately was on duty. He stood by the man looking him in the eye, daring him to move. Bessie said, “Sir, I’m going to ask you to do a breathalyzer test for me. You stay right here until I get the equipment out of my patrol car.”

The man agreed and as Bessie walked back to the car the man decided he would open the door and set back down in the car. That wasn’t happening on Max’s watch. Immediately, the dog started growling and Bessie turned just in time to say, “Max, stay.” She chuckled because she knew had she not stopped him he would have knocked the man down and then stood over him until Bessie could get there.

She got the breathalyzer and told the man, “Sir, just breathe into this.”

The man complied and he blew a .19 which meant he was extremely drunk.

Bessie told him, “Sir, I’ve got to take you in for DWI. Please walk back to my patrol car.”

When he started to move, Max blocked him, Bessie said, “Easy.”

The dog backed off and let the man go back to the patrol car. Bessie opened the door and let him get seated and then she walked around to the other door and told Max to “Guard,” again.

Bessie knew she wouldn’t have to worry about the man trying anything, because Max was in the back seat with him. Bessie was starting to like her new partner.

When they got back to the jail, Bessie turned the man over to the jail guards and went inside to write out her report. Max was right on her heels. When they got inside the office the dog looked around and while Bessie was writing out the report he lay with his head on his paws not moving.

***

“Are you sure, Deputy?” The dog groomer was talking to Bessie.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m paying for this out of my pocket, so don’t worry about what the county is going to say.” Bessie said.

“I know Deputy, but this is a male dog. You want him groomed with puffs around his legs and a top knight that’s fluffy and then you want him to have ribbons in his hair, right?”

“Blue ribbons, he’s a male, so yes, blue ribbons and bathe him in that good smelling shampoo.”

“Very well, deputy. He should be ready by about four this afternoon.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you then. Should you get through earlier, give me a call. Here’s my card.”

“Yes, Ma’am I surely will.” The groomer answered.

Bessie went on about her patrol hoping she wouldn’t need her partner until after he was groomed. She had said nothing to the Sheriff or anyone about having Max groomed. Since they weren’t paying for it Bessie didn’t really think she needed to ask.

Fortunately, the afternoon was relatively quiet and when Bessie’s cell phone rang it was the Dog Groomer.

“Max is ready, Deputy Buemiller.”

“Thanks,” Bessie said as she turned the patrol car around and headed for the dog groomer’s.

When they brought Max out you could tell he was so proud of the way he looked. He pranced up to Bessie as if to say, ‘look at me.’

Bessie bragged and bragged on Max and told him how pretty he looked. He wagged his well-groomed tail, now with a pom pom at the end, and all but smiled at Bessie. She swore sometimes she just knew that he smiled at her. She was falling in love with this dog. Something she thought she’d never do.

The next afternoon, Bessie and Max were patrolling the south side of Hawkshaw County when a call came in that a bank robbery had occurred and they had the suspect cornered and they were engaged in a gun battle. They requested that Bessie get there with the dog.

Bessie whipped the patrol car around, flipped on the lights and sirens and headed for the location. When she pulled up she could see that the robber was inside the car and would fire his pistol every now and again randomly at the officers. She assessed the situation and walked up to the Sheriff.

“Do you want me to have Max get him?” She asked.

“Do you think he can take him down?”

“Without a doubt.” Bessie replied.

“Then, do it.” The Sheriff said.

Bessie walked back to the car and told Max, “I need you to take this man down, Max. Take him down.”

She opened the back door and a black streak was all that could be seen as the dog covered the ground between the patrol car and the suspect with a speed of lightning. He cleared the car door, went through the window and had the robber screaming for help within seconds.

When Bessie and the others walked up to the car, she had to tell Max to ‘hold,’ as his teeth were just above the suspect’s throat. Max was growling a low gurgling growl that meant, ‘I’m going to tear your throat out.’

The robber was visibly shaking and begging them to call the dog off.

Bessie walked up to the car and said, ‘easy, Max.’ The dog backed off until another officer got the cuffs on the man and then Max started wagging his tail.

“Good dog, Max. Good dog,” Bessie said.

After the suspect was in a patrol car and on his way to jail the other officers in the group started laughing out loud. Bessie turned to see what they were laughing at. The only thing she saw was Max standing beside her. Bessie looked at them and said, “What?”

The Sheriff had joined the others in laughing, he said, “Bessie, when did you have that dog groomed?”

“Yesterday. Why?”

“Because he looks like a sissy with those blue ribbons in his hair and his pom pom tail. He looks like everything but a vicious dog.”

“Well, Sheriff, you know what they say about looks. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. And imagine what that robber is gonna have to tell his friends,

“Yeah, a big black dog with blue ribbons in his hair and smelling like French perfume, jumped through the car window and had me by the throat before I knew what was happening.”

“Don’t you just know he’s aching to tell that tale.” Bessie laughed.

They all rolled with laughter and Max just stood there, smiling.

If you enjoyed this glimpse of Bessie and Max, read more of their adventures in The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Volume 1

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075VHMHJ9

Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard

Chapter Four

Ivan and Walt drove back to headquarters without much conversation. Each Inspector was going over in his mind, what they had witnessed and what the forensic experts had told them.  

Finally Ivan broke the silence by saying, “Marsha Hart is one of the best forensic experts around. If she can’t decipher the clues as to the killer, I doubt we will be able to.”

Walt just nodded his agreement.

When they entered Scotland Yard, Ivan found a note on his desk. It read, “Grace Simmons wants you to call her.”

Picking up his phone he dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Grace, this is Inspector Bennett, you wanted me to call?”

“Yes, Inspector, I was talking to a friend of mine today who lives on a farm about five miles out of town. He told me he had made a startling discovery.” Grace said.

“And what is this startling discovery?” Ivan enquired.

“I’d rather you ask him that question, Inspector.” Grace continued.

“Fine, give me his name and number.”

“It’s Simon Éclair. He lives off the county road of Madison, east of town, first house on the right.” Grace finished.

“Thank you Ms. Simmons, rest assured I will follow up on your tip.” Ivan said and hung up the phone.

“That was Grace Simmons, giving you a tip? I do not believe this.” Walt said, smiling.

“Yes, she says a friend of hers, who owns a farm, found something very disturbing.” Ivan answered.

“And she wouldn’t share what it was?” Walt asked.

“Nope, said she wanted me to drive out there and talk to him myself. So, come on, we are going to take a short drive in the country.” Ivan said as he walked out the door.

****

The countryside was beautiful as the two Inspectors made the drive to Grace Simmons, friend’s farm. The green trees and abundance of grass told London’s countryside had received adequate rain and the crops should be good this season. Ivan was thinking as he turned in the drive to the farm.

When Ivan stopped the car, an elderly man dressed in blue overalls came out of the farm house to meet them. Ivan and Walt got out of the car and extended their hands for a handshake as they introduced themselves.

“I’m Inspector Ivan Bennett and this is my partner, Inspector Walt Graham.”

“Glad to meet you, Inspectors, my name is Simon Éclair. I’m a friend to Grace Simmons.” The elderly man declared.

“She tells me you have made an unusual discovery, here on your farm?” Ivan asked.

“Only, if you consider finding a human skull unusual.” The farmer smiled.  

“A human skull, oh my, that certainly is unusual.” Ivan replied. “Where did you find it?”

“In the pig pen.” He answered.

Shocked, Walt blurted out, “In the pig pen, sir?”

“Yes, indeed. Come with me and I’ll show you the exact spot.” Simon said as he turned and started toward the barn.

The two Inspectors followed Simon Éclair with much anticipation. What in the world was a human skull doing in Mr. Éclair’s pig pen?

When they reached the barn, they walked around to the side and climbed up on the fence that housed the pigs inside. 

Pointing to the far corner, Mr. Éclair said, “Over there is where I found the skull.”

Following the farmers pointing finger, both Ivan and Walt gazed at the corner of the pig pen covered in pig mud. It smelled exactly like what it was. 

Ivan asked, “Did you find anymore bones, Mr. Éclair?”

“No, sir, nothing but the skull. Come on in the barn and I’ll show it to you.”

They climbed down off the fence and followed Simon into the barn. He opened one of the tack room doors and walked over to a shelf where he picked up a skull, still covered in pig mud. He handed it to the Inspectors.

Ivan accepted the skull and looked at it intently. Then he handed it over to Walt who reluctantly took it.

Staring down at the muddy skull Walt asked, “Do you think it’s one of those girls?

“Well, it’s certainly not one of the girls that we have found. They are all in the morgue. This must be one we didn’t know about.” Ivan said.

They thanked Mr. Éclair and assured him they would let him know the outcome of the evidence he had found. The two Inspectors left the farm with the skull wrapped up in a tow sack Mr. Éclair had furnished.

“What are you thinking, Ivan? I see your wheels turning.” Walt asked.

“I’m thinking the first thing I’m going to do is find out if Mr. Éclair has declared any of his family or friends missing.”

“Surely you don’t think that old man had anything to do with this?” Walt stammered.

“Walt, I examine everything. Whatever is left, is evidence.” Ivan said.

“True Sherlock Holmes reasoning.” Walt smiled.

Ivan didn’t answer as he headed straight to the morgue and his friend, Marsha Hart.


This has been a look inside Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard. To read the rest of the mystery, get your copy now on Kindle for Amazon

www.amazon.com/dp/B01N1JJFOY

Bessie Attends a Funeral

Bessie’s good friend, Viola Godspeed, passed away.  Bessie was very upset over Viola’s death.  They had been friends for a long, long time.  How long, Bessie wouldn’t say and she was very disappointed the funeral home had given Viola’s date of birth. That would mean folks could figure out pretty quick how old Bessie was. Well, those that knew Bessie and Viola, knew that they had started school together.

The biggest comfort in that, was not many were old enough to even know, much less remember it.  But, a lot of folks had nosey grandmothers and great grandmothers with memories like an elephant. Bessie theorized that if she wore enough make up people would not even bother to compare Viola and her.

She walked into the funeral home. It was the night of visitation for Viola. Sort of like a wake. The room was extremely crowded. Bessie made her way up to the front where the casket rested, surrounded by beautiful flowers.

Bessie thought, I wonder who sent all these flowers. My word, I never saw so many. I had no idea Viola had this many friends. Wonder what she was into that I didn’t know about. Look at that beautiful spray of red roses. I wonder who sent that.

Quietly and discreetly, so as not to draw attention, Bessie made her way to the spray of red roses and turned her head sideways so she could read the card. It said, ‘With love. James Spiller.’

What? James Spiller. How in tarnation did Viola manage to get close enough to James Spiller to have him send such a beautiful memorial as these lovely red roses? I bet she was running with him and never told me for fear I would take him away from her.

Viola, you sneaky devil. Bessie thought.

Bessie returned to the casket and stared down at Viola’s face. Oh, Viola, my dear friend, I’m going to miss you.  I wish they had put a little more rouge on your pale cheeks.  Geez, Viola, your hair doesn’t look quite right either…to flat on top for your little pointed head. Oh, my, look at those wrinkles, just need a little smoothing out.  I wonder if they would allow me to just ‘touch you up a bit?’

Bessie looked around the room for the undertaker, not seeing him anywhere she just carefully pulled Violas hair up a little, just a smidge to cover the wrinkles on her forehead.  Then she patted Viola’s hand and whispered under her breath where only Viola could hear, “Oh, Viola, you poor thing. You just look so dead.”

As she walked away from the casket, she spied James Spiller talking to the pastor of her church.  That was a perfect excuse to talk to James.  She walked up and extended her hand as she said, “So good of you, James, to come out to Viola’s wake, I wasn’t aware that the two of you were so close.”

James nervously cleared his throat and Bessie’s pastor looked extremely uncomfortable as Bessie continued to stare at them. Finally, the pastor said, “If you will excuse us, Bessie, we need to talk to the undertaker.”

Oh, I just bet you do.  Bessie thought but she didn’t say that, instead she returned to the head of Viola’s casket where she stood as the many visitors passed by.

As music played softly in the back ground, Bessie stood like a sentinel at the casket. When Vera Carp walked passed Bessie thought, Oh, look Viola, your old nemesis has come out to see you.  She’s most likely glad you’re gone.  Now she can win the Christmas Pageant’s, ‘most beautiful yard.’  It was hilarious how you beat her out year after year.

Oh, here comes Hortense Huff.  I can’t believe she would even show her face in public.  Everyone in town knows she ran off with that newspaper reporter.  Do what Viola?  Oh, yes, that’s right, he wasn’t a reporter, he just delivered newspapers.  Well, she certainly made the headlines when he dumped her in Biloxi and she had to have money wired to her to get home.

Oh, and there’s Gladis’ Johnson. Poor Gladis.  Her fiancé, Horace Greely, ran off with the town secretary and left Gladis waiting in the church where they were supposed to get married.  Now that’s sorry, Viola.  Oh, I know you didn’t care of Gladis but no one deserves that. Do what?  Oh, Viola, she’s not the wicked witch of the west.

Look, there’s Spencer Knight.  He’s such a handsome man.  I always wanted to date him but Yvonne Miller kept getting in the way.  The slut, I have never understood what Spencer saw in her.

Here comes Hortense Powers. Oh, Viola, you remember Hortense.  In grade school she took your boyfriend, Clarence away from you.  Oh yes, she did, Viola, no need to deny it, she flat stole him away from you.  Do what? No, you didn’t Viola, you cried for days, I remember.

The night wore on and Bessie continued to watch over her friend Viola and to share her opinion about all those that came to pay their respect to her dearly departed friend.

Bessie’s continued to act as sentinel through the next day’s funeral service. She stood at the foot of the casket as they waited at the cemetery for the pastor’s final departing words for Viola.

When the pastor finished his prayers, the procession of mourners, went down the line shaking hands with Viola’s family members. When they all were through, the crowd started to leave so the undertaker could finish his job.

Bessie kept standing, staring at the foot of Viola’s casket.  Finally, the undertaker said, “Ms. Buemiller, I understand the love for your good friend Viola Godspeed, but I’ve got to finish my job now.  Can I call someone to come and help you to your car?”

“No, you cannot.  But, what you can do is explain how you managed to bury Viola in a casket made in China.” Bessie said as she moved the flowers over so the tag on the end of the casket could be read.

“She had a prepaid funeral plan, Ms. Buemiller.”

“I know that, but no way would she have selected, ‘Made in China,’ to be on her casket. A final farewell to a red blooded American?  No way Jose, Viola didn’t know that, and I’m telling everyone I know to check out where their prepaid funeral casket is made.  And I’m telling you right now, you do that to me, and I promise I will come back and personally, kick your ‘Made in China,’ undertaking ass.” 


To enjoy more of Bessie’s adventures, download The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Volume I, now available for Kindle on Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075VHMHJ9


Fruit Inspector

I just want to stand back and say, ‘what in the world is going on?’ I am so sick of drunken, dope infested, PLOM (Poor Little Old Me)  ridden individuals, I could throw up.  They take advantage of our government handouts which should be stopped.  When we bring them back from the brink of death by using Narcan, which runs about $1500.00 a shot, or whatever other very expensive drug it takes to save them, and then they turn around and do it again and sometimes again and again and again.

There are cities in our United States that have safe places dopers can go and if they OD there, they can use this drug Narcan to bring them back.   I’m for letting them die, when people whose children have to have Epi-pens to survive can’t afford them due to the cost, yet we are going to give these dopers a place to safely get high and then bring them back if they OD, how can this be right?

This opioid epidemic has been ongoing for hundreds of years.  History tells us that the Opium addicts were with us in the Opium dens long ago. This is not new. Now I realize I’m gonna get a lot of hate mail over that remark but I really don’t care.  God has given us life and free will and a beautiful world to enjoy, to live in, to be happy in and some are so bored with first of all themselves and second of all life,  they try to take it daily to avoid living life sober, so they chose drugs or anything that alters the mind.  Toughen up buttercup; you’re no better or worse than the rest of us.

Some say well, alcohol is the door way to drugs. Oh really?  Then is sex the door way to becoming a whore?  Same difference.  You are who you chose to be, whether good, bad or indifferent.  I’m not talking about those folks with cancer or other life taking illnesses.  They have to fight to get drugs to help them with the pain because these dope ridden losers have ruined that for them.  I’m talking about the normal human who is so bored with life they decide they will experiment with the life altering effects of drugs, alcohol, dope etc. Addictions are habits, habits that are hard to break.  How do you avoid getting a habit?  You don’t ever start them to begin with.  Then you have nothing to change, nothing to overcome.

If your situation in life is so miserable that you have to take drugs to endure it, then change your situation.  Get rid of what’s causing you to have to escape the reality of life. I am clean and sober only by the grace of God almighty.  That’s what’s lacking in the addicts life.  God all mighty.  Satan the liar will tell you that you’re justified in your PLOM thinking, but Lucifer, old Luci is nothing but a liar.  Why would you listen to someone you know lies with every breath?

Why anyone in their right mind starts doing something that effects their small innocent children who they brought into this world, why would they?  Because, they think more of themselves than they do the children.  Some say, no, they aren’t themselves when they are on drugs.  Oh, really, well apparently at some point they weren’t on drugs, so why did they start? If you choose to take drugs for goodness sake go get yourself sterilized so you don’t bring innocents into this world to have to live with YOUR ADDICTIONS AND YOUR SINS.

Here’s the truth about most of the drug addictions…truth is telling someone something they don’t want to hear so I’m going to say this. All you have to do is follow the money.  If drugs, alcohol etc. are sicknesses then the insurance companies will pay for them and big pharma can make money off them.  But, if those things are sins, self-induced, freely taken, doing what I want to do, then the insurance won’t pay and big pharma loses money. Humm that’s pretty clear isn’t it?

As it true with most things in life, just follow the money.

Now you’re going to say, ‘you’ve no right to judge me.’  You’re right I don’t, but I do have the right to be a fruit inspector and the fruits drug addicts and alcoholics bare,  are rotten.

People who have been hooked on drugs because of an illness or injury they received,  or God help us,  a wounded veteran, whether mental or physical,  are the ones who need help. Those that have had to go to pain doctors who gave them medicine, then the pain doctors kicked them out of treatment because now they were addicts, those people need our help. The doctors need to be forced to continue their treatment after they are addicted to the meds, that they, the pain doctors,  gave to them that got them hooked. This needs to be looked into as well as many other things that aren’t just right.

But, this does not apply to those self-willed drug takers or alcoholics. They chose to become what they are.

Again I say, follow the money and see where it takes you.

The Amen Days

What are the “Amen Days”?  Well, for me, they’re those days that everything I write or read, I want to say “Amen” to.   Amen means, “So be it.” When we say, “Amen”, we mean we are in agreement with the quote or the prayer or the circumstance, we are involved in at the moment.  So, I love the “Amen Days”.

 

On those days, my heart is in agreement with the text I’m reading or the words I hear repeated.  Either way, it’s an “Amen Day”.

Unfortunately, we have too few “Amen Days”.  If we let it, the world will creep right in on top of us.  It will crawl underneath our covers and before we know it, we’re engulfed with the world’s fears and woes and all the junk that goes along with it.

 

Frankly, I’m sick of that.

 

I want a whole bunch of “Amen Days”.  Days filled with laughter and love and peace.  Days that I can love on my precious family and tell them, “I love you”.  Days I can sing God’s praises with a happy heart.  Days that are free from worldly plights and plans.  Days when the sun shines and the birds sing and I can walk with my dog and feel God’s presence all around me.

 

I long for those days.  I pray for those “Amen Days”.

 

Unfortunately, if I’m not careful, the ‘dreads’ become more powerful than the ‘Amens’.  I know the Lord tells me to turn my fears and worries over to Him and I truly can do that most of the time.  But, I have to admit I must always stay on guard.  For Satan lurks, ever ready to creep in and take over my thoughts.  That’s how he wins, you know, he seeks to control our mind.

 

Join me in praying for many more “Amen Days”.  Join me in thanking the Lord for the blessings of the “Amen Days” that He’s already allowed us to enjoy.

 

There needs to be a new phase coined.  It needs to be, “May you have a blessed ‘Amen Day’.

 

God bless you and may you have a blessed, “Amen Day”.

The Beginning of 2018, A New Year

Think of these things.

My anchor holds because

God has always had a people.

The beautiful words below were pinned by Gloria Gather.  I find them most appropriate at this point in time. So many now, are trying to overthrow our Christian belief and faith, by telling us there is no ‘Savior.’ They say our ‘Jesus’ was merely a prophet, not the son of God.

In return to their slander of our Lord, I say:


“God has always had a people. Many a foolish conqueror has made the mistake of thinking that because he had driven the church of Jesus Christ out of sight, that he had killed its voice and snuffed out its light. God has always had a people. The powerful current of a rushing river is not diminished because it is forced to flow underground. The purest water is the stream that bursts crystal clear into the sunlight after it has fought its way through solid rock.

God has always had a people. There have been charlatans who, like the Simon the Magician in the books of Acts, sought to barter on the open market that power which cannot be bought or sold, but God has always had a people: Men who could not be bought, women who were beyond purchase. God has always had a people.

There have been times of affluence and prosperity, when the church’s message has been nearly diluted into oblivion by those who sought to make it socially attractive, neatly organized, and financially profitable. It has been gold-plated, draped in purple, and encrusted with jewels. It has been misrepresented, ridiculed, lauded, and scorned.

These followers of Jesus Christ has been, according to the whim of the times, elevated as sacred leaders and martyred as heretics. Yet, through it all, there matches on that powerful army of the meek, God’s chosen people, who cannot be bought, flattered, murdered or stilled. On through the ages they march, the church – God’s Church Triumphant – is alive and well.”


This quoted work was written by Gloria Gather and spoken in the song, “The Church Triumphant.”

Merry Christmas 2017

“God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,

Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.”

Lyrics to a well know carol tell the only story that’s necessary for this, or any Christmas, or, any day of the year for us to remember; Jesus is the reason for the season. Without Him, there is no Merry and no reason for our seasons of life. Thank you Lord, for being ever watchful and mindful over us, your spoiled children.

Forgive us when we forget that you provide and watch out for us.  Forgive when we complain that, ‘life’s not fair.’  Help us remember ‘fairness’ went out in the third grade and now we are responsible for the choices ‘we’ make.

Thank you for family and friends that fill our days and nights with love and happiness and help us remember, ‘we are not entitled,’ but we are expected to work for what we want.

Forgive us Lord as we grieve over the loves in this life that we have lost.  Help us remember to thank You that we had them for a ‘little while,’ and that ‘little while’ was so wonderful that it will forever be engrained in our hearts. Thank you for all the wonderful ‘wonderful little whiles.’

Help us to remember to hug the ones we love with a hug that will last them, and us a lifetime. Help us remember there are no guarantees for tomorrow.  All we have is today.  That’s why it’s called the ‘present.’  May our ‘present’ be filled with family, friends, happiness, and grateful hearts.

Help us remember, though this world is not perfect, it is Your world. Thank you for allowing us, in this brief span of time we call our life, the opportunity to enjoy the wonders of the world that you created.  

Help us to have the ‘faith’ of a child and know that when You live in our hearts, things will always work out according to Your will. As one of my loved ones I spoke about earlier use to say, “It will be ok, even if it’s not.”

Merry Christmas Jesus! Thank you for loving us.

The Crazy’s are Everywhere

Crazy is defined in the dictionary as, “mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.”

Patsy Cline defined it musically as: “Crazy for lying, Crazy for crying, and Crazy for loving you.”

The following is my input, output or just a plain opinion about what “crazy,” is in today’s world.

It’s people in authoritative positions being accused of sexual abuse by women who have waited twenty or more years to come forward. There are two parts to that “craziness.”  The first part is who in their right mind would commit an act they know if found out, and they’re always found out, would cost them their job?  Not to mention, their respect, their family, their friends, their money, etc.

Well, one past president does come to mind, but in all fairness when you search history you find they’re has been more than one president caught up in that “craziness.”

Then the second part, what female would allow such a thing to happen?  I mean come on women. You are in control unless it’s gang rape and the police usually are called on that and if not, you have a voice so FOR GOODNESS SAKE SPEAK UP! WHY WAIT TWENTY YEARS? Of course, that does cut down on the pay off when you agree to settle for money to keep quiet. If you cared so much why help those you accuse, continue in the abuse of others, as you keep your mouth shut for money. What does that make you? I believe that would be called “co-conspirator.”

This women’s lib stuff drives me “crazy.”  I mean back in the day I sort of liked those wolf whistles. That meant I looked good that day.  I’m sort of like the old Navajo ‘code talker,’ that said he wasn’t offended when they told him to yell, “Geronimo,” when he jumped out of an airplane.

I can’t imagine any woman so weak and simple she can’t stand up for herself.  Please, do you really think the men who you so willingly cut down, are going to stand up for you? You’re as morally responsible as they are. Duh.

I really stand in wonder at the women who say, “it’s my body, I can do what I want with it.”

If that’s true, why do you want tax dollars to pay for your abortions? You’re so liberated take care of your own birth control.

Then there’s that very special ‘crazy’ that thinks it’s okay to take a knee, in an American stadium, paid for by American tax dollars while you are making millions of dollars annually from American citizens who pay out their hard-earned dollars to watch a game that you play.  And you want to do that while our National Anthem is being played? You want to disgrace our flag and the men and women who have fought and died to honor that flag, and somehow you think this is YOUR RIGHT? Because you want to protest cops handling of blacks? Where in the world is YOUR MIND?

It’s simple.  You break the law, you’re going to jail no matter what color you are, stud. You pull a gun on an officer of the law he’s going to shoot your ass. Call it the law of nature.  Call it whatever you want to call it, but it’s justifiable, Hoss, so get over it.  You are no better than the rest of us.

Now, I’m going to address the REALLY BIG ONE. The latest ‘CRAZY’ trend in MALE, FEMALE, TRANSGENDER SEXES. Please tell me I’m dreaming this one.  They aren’t going to find someone stupid enough to put ‘gender to be decided at a later date,’ on birth certificates? I mean this kind of thinking puts whomever is making such a decision right up there with ‘crazy of the century.’  They need to be hauled away to the nearest insane asylum, (do those still exist?) If not, they should, because it’s apparent that some of our citizens, indeed have a big mental problem.

Who speaks up for the children that are going to be abused by such thinking?  Any parent that would do such a thing to their child is INSANE. They shouldn’t be allowed to even come near a child.  Rates right up there with Pedophilia.

Who thinks Transgenders who have been certified to have proven mental problems, should be allowed in our military? What kind of thinking is this? We fuss about gun control, yet we are willing to hand guns over to people who can’t decide if they are male or female.

Like it or not, God only created two sexes. Male and Female.  This is a proven biological fact. Only XX and XY chromosomes, no XYZ.  No transgender, no to be decided later, just male and female. Not complicated, not hard to understand, just simple fact. Like it or not, He’s still in charge and rest assured, He will take care of the problem.

There are so many “Crazy’s” going on in today’s world. You see them nightly on what we use to call, ‘The Nightly News.’ Now it’s more like, ‘who put the ‘Draino’ in today’s drain pipe for the swamp? Come out you rascal whoever you are.


As the saying goes, “I’m gonna have to quit saying, surely no one is that ‘crazy’. I do believe that they are taking it as a personal challenge.”

An Honest, Heart to Heart Conversation with God

General George Patton’s Prayer about the Battle of the Bulge.

December 19, 1944.

Sir, this is Patton speaking. The last fourteen days have been straight from hell.  Rain, snow, more rain more snow—and I’m beginning to wonder what’s going on at your headquarters. Whose side are you on anyway?

For three years, my chaplains have been explaining that this is a religious war. This, they tell me, is the Crusade all over again, except that we are riding tanks instead of chargers.  They insist we are here to annihilate this German Army and the godless Hitler so that religious freedom can return to Europe. Up till now I’ve gone along with them too.  You have given us Your unreserved cooperation.  Clear skies and a calm sea in Africa made the landings highly successful and helped us to eliminate Rommel. Sicily was comparatively easy and You supplied excellent weather for our armored dash across France, the greatest military victory that You have thus far allowed me.

You have led German units into traps that made their elimination fairly simple.  But now, You’ve changed horses in midstream. You seem to have given Rundstedt every break in the book and frankly he’s been beating hell out of us.  My army is neither trained nor equipped for winter warfare. And as You know this weather is more suitable for Eskimos than for southern cavalrymen.

But, now sir, I can’t help but feel that I have offended You in some way.  That suddenly You have lost all sympathy with our cause.  That You are throwing in with von Rundstedt and his paperhanging god.  You know without me telling You, our situation is desperate.  Sure, I can tell my staff  that everything is going according to plan, but there’s no use telling You that the 101est Airborne is holding out against tremendous odds in Bastogne, and that this continual storm is making it impossible to supply them even from the air.

I’ve sent Hugh Gaffey, one of my ablest generals, with his 4th Armored Division, north toward that all important road center to relieve the encircled garrison and he’s finding Your weather much more difficult than he is the Krauts.  I don’t like to complain unreasonably, but my soldiers from the Meuse to Echtemach are suffering the tortures of the damned.  Today I visited several hospitals, all full of frostbite cases and the wounded are dying in the fields because they cannot be brought back for medical care.

But, this isn’t the worst of the situation.  Lack of visibility, continued rains have completely grounded my air force.  My technique of battle calls for close-in fighter support and if my planes can’t fly, how can I use them as aerial artillery? Not only is this a deplorable situation, but worse yet, my reconnaissance planes haven’t been in the air for fourteen days, and I haven’t the faintest idea of what’s going on behind German lines.

Damn it Sir, I can’t fight a shadow.  Without Your cooperation from a weather standpoint I am deprived of an accurate disposition of the German armies and how in hell can I be intelligent in my attack?  All this probably sounds unreasonable to You, but I have lost all patience with Your chaplains who insist that this is a typical Ardennes winter, and that I must have faith.

Faith and patience be damned!  You have just got to make up Your mind whose side You’re on.  You must come to my assistance, so that I may dispatch the entire German Army as a birthday present to Your Prince of Peace.

Sir, I have never been an unreasonable man; I am not going to ask You for the impossible.  I do not even insist on a miracle, for all I request is four days of clear weather.

Give me four clear days so that my planes can fly, so that my fighter-bombers cab bomb and strafe so that my reconnaissance may pick out targets for my magnificent artillery.  Give me four days of sunshine to dry this blasted mud, so that my tanks may roll, so that ammunition and rations may be taken to the hungry, ill-equipped infantry.  I need these four days to send von Rundstedt and his godless army to their Valhalla.  I am sick of the unnecessary butchery of American youth, and in exchange for four days of fighting weather, I will deliver You enough Krauts to keep your bookkeepers months behind in their work.  

Amen.

The weather cleared that day.

When was the last time you had an honest,  heart to heart conversation with God?