Getting Here Part II: Losing My Religion

Most people are born into a religion. Given the time and place of my birth it is not surprising that religion was Christianity. I was Baptized several months later at the Methodist Church where my parent's had married.

My family had a religious history. My mother's had a long affiliation with the Methodists on her father's side and the Reformed Church of Christ on her mother's.

My father's paternal ancestors had landed on these shores in 1683. They were among the Welsh Quakers chartered part of Chester County, Pennsylvania by William Penn. His mother's side, which had arrived from Scotland in early 1774, were longtime Presbyterians.

Although many of my ancestors were very devout, not much of that religious background was apparent in my life. No one was going to church on any regular basis, perhaps on Easter or Christmas. We said grace at Sunday dinner, a task that fell to me once I was able to talk well enough. My prayers were pretty short and repetitive.


In 1950 we moved back to Downingtown from the swamp.  I had left that town halfway through first grade and came back halfway through third, a mere two years that may as well been 200. These were years during which my old classmates formed cliques and bonding.  I wasn't there thus was left out of that process.  My best friend from earlier days had moved away. The boys I once considered friends now made fun of me, even bullied me.

Some girls I knew from before remained friends, but playing jacks and hopscotch with Iva and Judy hardly won the other boys over to my side. At recess I was one of those left dangling to near the end when sides were chosen for games. I didn't know the fundamentals of most team sports, except soccer for some reason. Soccer was not the game of choice in town; it was football and baseball.

Religion started off every day at school.  In those times the school day opened with the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag, The Lord's Prayer and a reading from the Bible. No, I wasn't sent to some Christian academy, these were public schools. Any Christian Love espoused by any of those passages didn't last beyond the closing of the Bible and first bell. I remained some kind of pariah to most of these kids.

Also, once back in town, it was decided I should go to church.  Each Sunday I was dressed in my one suit and "good" pair of shoes and sent walking the length of Washington Avenue to attend Sunday School at the Methodist Church. I hated it. For one thing the direct route took me through the territory where a gang of older boys always came after me if I was spotted. For another, no one else in my family was going to church, why me? I found Sunday School terribly boring, plus I wasn't excepted in with the kids there either.

I didn't see much value in any of this religious stuff. It was something to be endured because adults made you do it. God wasn't answering any of my prayers. I woke up in the morning and my enemies were still there.

As I aged it only got worse. I was tall, thin and gangly, with a slightly hunched back. I was sometimes called "Quasimodo" or worse. By seventh grade I also had to wear glasses, so "four-eyes" got added to the insults.

These things drove me more into myself. I was perfectly happy being alone. I began to write and spent a lot of time in the town library. When I began Junior High I stopped going to Sunday School. I just made such a fuss about it my mother gave up trying to force me.

Now, I don't want to paint  a picture of being a totally pathetic figure huddled in some dark garrett. It is not that I didn't make friends, but they were generally considered "different" too. Stu was the only Jewish kid in town at the time, a fact that exposed me to anti-semitism. Ron was as thin and gangly as I and threw like a girl. Dave wore glasses and had weird hair. Franny was black and thus I also became exposed to racism. He wasn't even allowed to visit my home. Bill was small. Sam was a girl; a Tomboy. None of my friends reflected much in the way of religious beliefs, except Stu and his were mocked by my father, who wasn't altogether approving of my friendship with a Jew. He didn't even know about Franny.

Overtime I took part in various activities that I enjoyed, Boy Scouts in particular. I also began going to MYF meetings in Ninth Grade. A boy in my class invited me, but I only went because they were going to a favorite restaurant of mine at the time, Dick Thomas' Brick Oven. I thought I'd go that one time, but I enjoyed the evening and began going regular.

The Pastor decided we should know about different religions and over several weeks a priest, a rabbi, a whatever would come and speak to us about what they believed. I found it very interesting, but it did nothing to bring me closer to God. They all seemed very sincere. How was I to know which was right? Maybe none were? I asked the Pastor one day, "If God made the universe, then who made God?" He gave some stock "with God everything is possible" and left it at that. I thought I had him; I thought I was pretty smart.

Boy Scouts, MYF, Babe Ruth Baseball and my paperboy job all came late in my junior high years and before too many months of involvement with any of them my parents moved us out of town again. After years of living with my grandparents or renting a house nearby, my parents managed to buy a home of their own. It was several miles north of Downingtown out in the country.

I was back into a form of isolation again.

Much to my surprise and chagrin after moving my parents began to go to church, and of course, expected me to begin so again as well.  I was 15 when we moved. I was forced to join them in the pew every week, but when I turned 16 and got my driver's license I made a deal. I would go to Sunday School, but not Sunday Service.

It was not that Sunday School thrilled me. It was even more boring than the one at Downingtown. However, when Sunday School ended I came home to an empty house while my folks were at church. I wanted to have that alone time. I had some special magazines hidden away in a back spot of my closet I wanted to read, or more precisely, magazines with pictures I wanted to look at.

If religion was supposed to make you feel good, then I had a new religion and these magazines were my bibles.

I soon made another deal with my parents. I would go to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) rather than Sunday school. MYF met on Sunday evenings. It was more fun than Sunday school. Yeah, we had lectures about the Bible, but then we played games. Sometimes we had outings, hayrides or cookouts.

As it were, I was elected President of MYF. I actually had power over the agenda of our meetings. I changed the lectures to discussions. I would introduce some Bible story each meeting and then play Devil's Advocate to get the arguments going. The meetings were pretty lively and our membership began to grow. I was being praised because of this, but in reality I wasn't just playing Devil's Advocate, I was trying to ridicule these stories.

The move from Downingtown changed much in my life. My social circle had widened. I still was friends with Stu and Ron, but now I had other friends and we spent our spare time on cars, girls and parties. Days were for souping up our cars and nights were for drag racing up and down Pottstown's main street.

Life had changed for me at my new school as well. The first year I remained a fringe character, although I wasn't being subjected to the constant put-downs I had experienced in Downingtown. I was sitting at a typewriter many nights that first year, typing out short stories and poems not yet knowing this would make me popular in the next year. Writing had been an escape from the world, now it was to become a door into the world.

When you are a loner who has lost your religion stepping through the door into the world can be a dangerous step.

Peace and Depravity

Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator Romans 1:24-25a

During the 'sixties a repeated chant was "never trust anyone over thirty". In the summer of 1971 I crossed that Maginot Line. In a couple more years the so-called Decade of Love would be over, the Vietnam War would end and Nixon would be sinking in the flood from Watergate. An era of my life was ending as well.

The group of artists, actors, poets and writers my wife and I had socialized with for several years was going separate ways. The Hippie culture and psychedelic streets near the river were fading from view. The Beatles had broken up in 1969. By 1973 a different sound was dominating everything, Disco. The new icon was a skinny John Travolta in a tight white suit.

I was still selling some writing, still going to evening college, still not believing in God, but I was losing the anger. Fighting every authority figure was behind me. I had been through a couple of jobs, had moved to New Jersey and in a sense felt at peace. I now had a job that was going to last several years. I was an Assistant Controller (and eventually would be the Systems Manager) for a steel fabricating company in Philadelphia. We were no longer living in the "roach hole", but had a very nice modern apartment at Ski Mountain in South Jersey. (If you know anything about South Jersey, you will chuckle at the idea there could actually have been a ski resort there.) 

In the near past we had lived with a motley crew of neighbors of sometimes questionable repute. Our life had been one of some austerity. There were months when I lived on soft pretzels for lunch and there had been stretches when I would walk along the trolley stops looking for dropped change in order to buy food. Now we lived among people who in a coming decade would be called Yuppies. The times of protest had ended; party time had begun.

Our old crowd had talked about art, literature, politics and philosophy. The new friends we were making had little interest in any of that.  If our 'sixties group was cerebral, our new associates were tactile. Pleasure was at the center of our relationships.

In began with W. and B. and a chance meeting in a lingerie shop. My wife was there to buy a teddy or something. She took a couple items into the dressing rooms and I found myself standing next to another fellow of approximately my same age self-consciously holding his wife's purse, too. A moment later this nice-looking young blond woman came out of the dressing rooms wearing only a fish-net body suit. She twirled about and asked her husband what he thought. He approved and she went back behind the curtain. He glanced at me and we smiled at each other.  What do you say in such a circumstance?

But somehow this turned into a strange contest between his wife and mine for most daring display. Out they would come in another brief wisp of material. The owner of the shop seemed delighted, and why not? When we turned to leave there was a large crowd gathered around the front of her shop watching this impromptu burlesque show.

While waiting, her husband and I had talked and exchanged telephone numbers and addresses and we became friends. We would get together at each other's apartments and play striptease games, take Polaroid pictures and have sex.

Now, I want it to make it clear. We were not wife-swapping. We only had sex with our own spouse.  I did not see any of this as sin at the time. I was still a faithful husband. And really by secular standards I was and am. I was a virgin when I met my wife and I have never had sex with any other person. By the worldly definition I have not committed adultery. By Biblical standards, I have over and over again. Besides this voyeuristic period of sexual games with another couple, I had long been a collector of pornography. But I saw no harm in it. I wasn't neglecting my wife. These were just images on the pages of magazines. Or those women contorting themselves in the nude upon some sleazy stage were just a show. Or those base acts were just shadows on a movie screen.  I didn't "really" break the Seventh Commandment. I didn't believe in the Ten Commandments anyway.

This friendship with W. and B. didn't last long. We began to suspect they wanted to go where we didn't and we broke it off.  We found another couple who we had a much longer relationship with. These were our drinking buddies.

When we met B. and G. we all lived in the same apartment building.  We would get together every weekend and sometimes in between. Sometimes we went out, but often we simply gathered in one of our apartments, played pinochle and drank. For some reason I had a great tolerance of alcohol and didn't get drunk. Not so much with B. Most evenings ended with me picking up his inert body and carrying it back to his bed before my wife and I went home.  There were also times I had to pull him out of a bar before fists began to fly or off the street before the cops came. But, although there were dirty jokes and innuendo aplenty in our conversations, there was no sexual play with B. and G. B. was an extremely jealous husband with a tendency toward violence.

This relationship ended when I got saved. Somehow after that, B. and G. found us different and no longer with shared interests.

We had some other friends during this period. We had a long and close relationship with V. and M. These friends would have been considered perfectly respectable. There was no sexual hanky-panky, no drinking to drunkenness. But there were a lot of parties and everything was pleasure. V and I played tennis almost every lunchtime during the work week and golf every weekend. 

For about four years life couldn't have been better as far as I was concerned. The only fly in the ointment had been losing another baby. It seemed pretty hopeless and I had accepted the idea of never having children. That was just one of those things. We had each other, a nice place to live and friends. We considered ourselves good people. We worked hard and paid our taxes, harmed no one, so what was wrong with having fun when ever we could. This was what life was all about was our motto. Grab the gusto. If it feels good, do it. 

Without kids, there were no encumbrances. We were free to do as we pleased. We could just take off on weekends and enjoy vacation trips each year. It was on one of those vacation trips my wife said something that would change everything. 

"Honey", she said, "I think I'm pregnant again."  This would make number seven.

To be continued: Seven, the number of completeness. 

The photo was me in 1971.

Seven: The Number of Completeness

And do this, understanding the present time. The hour has come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature. Romans 13:11-14

(Left: my wife and I in 1975)

THE 1960s

Our Years of Protest and Anger

My wife on the left, was to be the vocalist in our band, "Ethereal", music by Jim (with bongos), lyrics by me (holding guitar).

Those weren't costumes, we actually dressed that way.

THE EARLY 1970s

Parties, Sex and Booze

B. and W. in rare photo - fully clothed

This is not the case with the Polaroid photos on the sheet W. holds in his hand. 

J. (far left) and L. (far right), friends through both periods, part of the Hippie group, a writer and later Vietnam war hero. They named their first child after me.

My wife and I are in the center. The little chest on the table next to my wife held a canister of Scotch and a canister of Wild Turkey Bourbon.

There was a well-stocked bar somewhere in the room, our idea of high sophistication. 

New Years in the Poconos. We and nine other couples use to rent a lodge each Christmas week. This was actually a good time. Despite the toasting, there was little drinking. Mostly we went sledding, ice boating and popped popcorn in the fireplace. Note there were children present. Several of the other couples were social workers and longtime friends of my wife's back to high school. 

One of several parties with V. and M. V. is playing my guitar. Another gathering where mostly sanity prevailed. Note again the presences of children. V. was from the Caribbean and of African-Indian decent. The couple with the child on the right were Jewish. M.'s foot is on the left, she was a "good" Catholic Jersey Girl. 

New Year's Eve 1974 with G. and B. No children here. There was a lot of booze.

This seemed to be our fate at this point, just drift along in life having parties and not much caring about anything else. 

We did not know with the dawn next day came a year which would change our whole perception of life.

By 1975 I would say we were in a state of resignation. The old associations and activities were left behind. I had been through three different jobs and as many addresses within three years. In 1972 we had moved to New Jersey because the company I worked for was going to build there. Instead it folded.  In 1973 I began work with a steel fabricator in South Philadelphia as an assistant bookkeeper. By the end of that year I was the assistant controller and by 1976 I would also become the systems manager. In 1974 I quit going to night college and stopped sending out manuscripts, seeing my last piece published that year in "Animal Lovers Magazine". We were also now living in a nice modern luxury apartment at Ski Mountain. 

I was also resigned to the fact we would never have children. This didn't seem so bad. We were unencumbered. Outside of work it was all play with friends or going to concerts and taking trips. Life had become something of a continuous party and a little bit of risk taking. As far as the Ten Commandments, if I thought of them at all, it wasn't that we were breaking them.

The first four didn't count anyway, since I didn't believe in God. I certainly didn't have any gods before or behind him. I was my own god, although I didn't think of it that way. I didn't have some complex, it was just that I was the only thing I really believed in and relied on. As far as taking his name in vain, well, I never had been a curser. I just didn't vocally blaspheme, so I figured I was pretty good on that one. And I rested on Sundays. I wasn't any too certain what keeping the Sabbath meant. If it meant going to church, then I didn't keep it. I didn't worry about it either.

Honor our mother and father, certainly, we kept on good terms with our parents, if at arm's length. They certainly felt more comfortable about us now that we had shed that Hippie persona. They didn't know anything about the sex and drinking.

We hadn't murdered anyone. We might have wished a few people drop dead, but hey, everybody does that!

Although we had a sex-oriented relationship with another couple, we weren't having physical sex with either of them. I had never had sex with anyone other than the woman I married. Oh, I had opportunities, but never took advantage. My wife said this was because I was too naive to know when a woman was coming on to me. I like to think I was just too honorable to commit adultery.

I hadn't stole anything since those "girlie magazines" when I was 13. I was honest. If someone gave me the wrong change in my favor, I pointed it out and gave back the difference.

I didn't tell lies about other people and I didn't envy anyone.

In my humble opinion I was a good guy. I certainly wasn't a sinner. Sin was doing things that hurt people, like stealing. The things we did weren't hurting anyone. They weren't any one's business. 

But why was my wife depressed so often and why did I have a constant feeling of dissatisfaction?

What we needed were a few more adventures. (I'd prefer not to go into some things. Let's just say we did things not made for the family channel.)

Then coming out of a coal mine tour in Central Pennsylvania during a vacation trip, my wife said; "Honey, I think I'm pregnant again."

Yes, she was. And baby number seven wasn't going to be anymore lucky than the six brothers and sisters that preceded her. Amy was going to be born in month five and die just like Sean and Michael. The other four miscarried before getting that far.

[Do you know what babies look like when born too soon?

Babies.

Back when we lost our babies, five months was too soon. Today a lot of those lost children would have lived. Human life begins at conception and it ain't above my pay grade to tell you that!]

Oh well, I'd been down this road before. We'd get over it. Except Amy was a fighter. They put my wife in a labor room of the hospital and did what they could to stall off birth. They had a monitor that registered the baby's heart beat. It was a strong beat. It stayed strong the whole week my wife was in that labor room and I was by her side every day after work. My wife was drugged up and often drifted in and out of sleep. I sat sometimes for hours in a silent room except for that beat...beat...beat...beat. 

Once upon a time, a decade before, a strange cross had appeared on the wall of my bedroom when I thought I was dying. I had forgotten that cross. I couldn't forget the beat...beat...beat. It was so determined. And when I was alone at home after the visits, I could not get that heartbeat out of my mind and I realized that God had to exist. I sure wasn't god. There wasn't a thing I could do for that baby or for my wife. I could only listen to the beat of life. And in that beating I knew there was something greater than me, greater than us all.

When the day came they could not stall any longer, labor was induced and Amy died. When the beat stopped it was to be the beginning of the deepest valley I ever saw my wife enter. And although I felt as helpless in rescuing her as I had felt about saving that baby I knew something had survived and was alive in me, a belief in God.

To be continued: An Oasis in the Valley of Death

Nitewrit the Carney: Having a Fun Day

This past Saturday the church I attend had a Community Day BBQ. Besides a lot of good food, there were games and small rides.

It wasn't a fund raiser. The churches I have attended do not practice fund raising. Those who worship here supply the funds as the Lord leads them.  No, everything in our little carnival was free, no one paid a cent, not to get in, not to eat, not to play a game or take a ride. We offered our neighbors a fun day, food and free Bibles if they wanted one. 

We opened up at 10:00 and ran the fair until 3:00. Most of these pictures were taken early. In got more crowded as the day progressed into the afternoon.

This lady and her daughters were there to man the Moon Bounce.

We had live music playing by different talented musicians all day and in the afternoon the Zoo brought some animals out for demonstrations and petting.

Most of the booths were blowups. That's the Moon Bounce, or possibly by the shape, was called the Castle Bounce here. 

It was wall to wall kids inside by noontime. By the way, the heavy-set man on the left is my Pastor.

The tall fellow on the right wearing the motorcycle hat is my Sunday School teacher.

Here is where I became a Carney, the Moon Shot.

You can't see the balls floating on jets of air toward the back, but the object was for the players to knock those balls over with pitched balls.

Had a little problem. The original targets were about the size of a soccer ball, but none came with the booth. When a man came supposedly with balls for this, they turned out to be balloons. I placed a balloon over the air jets and it shot right out the roof of the booth and disappeared.

I ended up using two of the four pitching balls as the floaters.  Smaller targets, but at least they stayed atop the air jet and didn't disappear into the wind.

Next door to me was a batting cage game. It was run by Modesty, a young woman in our congregation. Ah, she had it easier. A ball would be batted off an air jet tee toward holes to the rear of the booth. But the ball after hitting the back would roll into a groove in the center of the floor, roll down the groove to where the air jet was then drop into a bag along side.

I had to retrieve all the balls thrown in my booth. Back and forth I went all morning. It wore me out and if the ball stuck toward the far back of the target area, when I reached back to get it, the air jets would blow my hat off. Oh, the sacrifices we make!

The device you see between my Moon Shot and Modesty's Batting Game is a strength tester. You know, you strike a board with a big hammer and it sends a stick up the chimney to strike a bell...if you have the strength. Wasn't too hard, several small children were ringing the bell, although the person running it sometimes helped. 

A teenage couple came by and the boy went over to hit the bell. Bang, and the stick rose a few inches. he tried several times and couldn't ring that bell. His girl friend was laughing, but he took it well. 

Of course, as I said, there was no fee to play, no ticket to ride, and everyone got to choose a prise out of a basket win or lose. Just a fun day.

This was another game, skee ball.

Ah, but here is what drew a lot of attention. Hard to believe we church folks can be so sadistic, isn't it?

The dunk tank.  Somebody sits up on a board and people throw balls at a small target. If they hit the target, the sitter gets dunked in the tank. This is our Youth pastor climbing out of a dunking.

Oops, their he goes again into the tank.

When I walked over to the church from my house (about a mile), it was 45 degrees Fahrenheit with a stiff wind blowing. It probably felt as bad climbing up on the board after the dunking with that wind as it did hitting the water, which was just cold tap water. No heated tank.

I tell some more about this later

I had a lot of youngsters and little kids at my booth. Popular with the adults was the Sumo Wrestling. 

See, you climbed into these puffy suits and became Sumo stars. Problem here is you had to lay down to wiggle into the suits.

Once contestants were suited, they became more turtle than wrestler and couldn't get up. People had to lift them to their feet.

You had to help them up anytime they fell over too.

Twice I was almost wiped out by flying Sumo Wrestlers while snapping these photos. (Again that is my Sunday School teacher and my pastor with backs to you.)

As my Sunday School Teacher prepares to take some pictures of his own, the wrestlers get ready to strike a proper pose.

Actually, my Pastor and the fellow in the yellow pants next to him could play Sumo without putting on the suits.

We have a very good Pastor and he has a great sense of humor.

He'd probably make the same remark himself.

Even pets were welcome.

Here on the midway we had the popcorn and cotton candy concession.

I love fresh popcorn, so i made sure I got a bag.

Our Youth Pastor as barker, walking around in a crazy balloon hat with a bullhorn calling people to the events.

Ah, yes back to the Dunk Tank.  That's our Pastor on the board now. Last Sunday they had a ballot in church to elect the five people we'd most like to see in the Dunk Tank and they actually did it. 

All but the number one selection, one of the leaders in our church and something of a character and ex-Marine. They had a sign up, that he said he had to work, then the note, "what kind of an excuse is that for a Marine". My daughter, who was in the Army, but served under a Marine Command on one tour of duty got a kick out of that.

Note the Youth Pastor around the corner of the tank about to take aim at the target.

"Yeeeessss, got 'em!" he yells as the Pastor disappears under water.

I had told the pastor I hoped he'd be able to talk on Sunday to give his sermon.

He was. He spoke on "What God told us About how to Handle a Financial Crisis". 

Here is the Moon Shot again. That is not me inside. That was the fellow they drafted to relieve me.  

I was very grateful. As I said, after over two and half hours, I was worn down.

Now I could go get something to eat.

Just following these folks heading for the barbecue.

I had a good meal here, barbecued chicken, potato salad, cole slaw, a shrimp-pasta salad, baked beans and a cupcake.

Tasted pretty good after that workout in the cold air running the Moon Shot. 

I even ate the shrimp, which is something I don't like.  Nope, not a seafood lover.

And so my day kind of ended, but the party and the train chugged along for a couple more hours after I left.

We had some new faces in church this morning, people who came to our Community Day and decided to visit our service. All but one of our free Bibles was given away and it looked to me as if everyone who came had a great time.

Thanks Giving

Today is Thanksgiving. This is not a Greek word meaning "sales tomorrow, football tonight". It is two words run together and should be a time of reflection as well as of family and/or friends.

Mr. Turkey is probably not so thankful that he will be warmed by an oven today. We, ourselves, are thankful the tempitature is going up to 48 degrees today (it is 35 right now, but I am grateful it is above freezing), because our heater went out yesterday and the repair person won't be coming until tomorrow afternoon. But we are grateful we own a lot of blankets. 

Actually, my wife cooked the turkey yesterday. Usually we have my parents here for Thanksgiving. But my dad is 90 and my mom 88 and they didn't want to make the car trip here, especially since they would be going home after dark. They use to take us out to a restaurant on this day, but since my daughters generally work at the shelters on Thanksgiving (they volunteer so others can spend the day with their families) it makes it hard to schedule a reservation.

So to solve this, my wife suggested we take the dinner to them. So she and the kids have prepared the meal ahead and later today, when my daughters get home from taking care of the animals, we will pack up the car and head north, thankful that we all can get together once more. Thankful the kids will be home in time to do so. Thankful my parents at their age are independent and healthy.  Thankful my parent's home has heat.

I'm thankful, my friends, to have met you through this Internet and Blogging. 

We talk about the First Thanksgiving of the Pilgrims and the proclamation of Abraham Lincoln in 1863. (For a thorough history of Thanksgiving in America, go to Jeff Jenkins'  "Thoughts and Theology" Blog. Click on the title of this post and it will take you there.) 

But giving thanks to God for our blessings goes back far before there was an United States. For instance, read these instructions for thanksgiving in the Law (Leviticus 7: 11-15)

" 'These are the regulations for the fellowship offering a person may present to the LORD :

" 'If he offers it as an expression of thankfulness, then along with this thank offering he is to offer cakes of bread made without yeast and mixed with oil, wafers made without yeast and spread with oil, and cakes of fine flour well-kneaded and mixed with oil. Along with his fellowship offering of thanksgiving he is to present an offering with cakes of bread made with yeast. He is to bring one of each kind as an offering, a contribution to the LORD; it belongs to the priest who sprinkles the blood of the fellowship offerings. The meat of his fellowship offering of thanksgiving must be eaten on the day it is offered; he must leave none of it till morning."

Now as to our meat today, I hope there is some left for the morning and I am thankful I may eat some the next day, for my son and I love cold turkey sandwiches.

In all seriousness, here are some passages to ponder today:

Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the LORD is the great God, the great King above all gods. Psalm 95: 1-3

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever. Give thanks to the God of gods. His love endures forever. Give thanks to the Lord of lords: His love endures forever. Psalm 136:1-3

The LORD sustains the humble but casts the wicked to the ground. Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving; make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. Psalm 147: 6-8

"Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs. But I, with a song of thanksgiving, will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good. Salvation comes from the LORD." Jonah 2:8-9  (See, you can even give thanks in the stomach of a fish.)

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Ephesians 5:19-20

It is written: "I believed; therefore I have spoken." With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence. All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God. 2 Corinthians 4:1-15

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:5-7

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Colossians 3:16-17

I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all men –the testimony given in its proper time. 1 Timothy 2:1-6

They forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth. For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer. If you point these things out to the brothers, you will be a good minister of Christ Jesus, brought up in the truths of the faith and of the good teaching that you have followed. 1 Timothy 4:3-6

All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying: "Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. 
   Amen!" Revelation 7:11-12

And may you all have a great Thanksgiving day basking in the glow of all you have to be thankful for.  Amen?

Mia Culpa

I made an egregious assumption the other day. You know what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of U and me. I don't think I made an ass of anyone except myself. Sometimes one over thinks and just as over thinking the distance from one dry rock to another, one may take a fall into the mud.

It began innocently enough with reading comments on my friend's blog. This is a sentence I read: "Meanwhile, please forgive me, but I have tagged you for one of those annoying blogging memes."

Well, there is where I went into over think gear associating the comment with a long running philosophical discussion of what is a meme and an oft-sited association to a social virus. Obviously being naive to the greater world of blogging, I missed the mark.

I added a comment on my friend's blog that was sarcastic and stupid. "Gee, Ron, this has my curiosity in gear. Does he mean he wants forgiveness for having tagged you as an "annoying blogging meme" or he still does tag you as such? I'd like an explanation of why he sees you as a meme? Are you a replicator or replicatee? Am I endangered of becoming part of your memeplex? Of course, my site would be dismissed immediately by the memetics because of its faith-based aspects, so be careful, Ron, I’m considered a virus."

I was defending my friend, where no defence was called for. The tagging was nothing but a harmless game where one answered some questions and then passed the questions along to other bloggers - tagged them. My intentions were honorable, but then they say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. It is very easy to slip off the sidewalk or perhaps off one's high horse. In being ignorant, in thinking I was coming out against the derision of my friend, I basically derided another who was not guilty of the first. I broke my own standards.


A man who lacks judgment derides his neighbor, but a man of understanding holds his tongue. Proverbs 11:12


Thus we are always learning just how short we do fall from what God expects. This is an example of having a plank in your eye as you pick at the splinter in another's. Too often we ignore that plank, don't we? Often that which we criticize most in others is actually our own biggest fault and we don't see it. I examine myself and examine myself, but just like I proofread and proofread something I write, there always seems to be a flaw overlooked, a mistyped phrase, a misspelled word. Here I find myself trying to be too wise by double and looking quite dumb in the process.

My friend in turn sent me an astrological profile of me which he believes fits me well. I am not a believer or practitioner of astrology. To me this profile is proof of its inaccuracies. Some of what is in the profile, I do believe fits, but those things are flattering and much I have seen in such profiles is just that, flattery. Most of this I don't see in myself at all.

Moody, emotional. May be shy. Very loving and caring. Pretty/handsome. Excellent partners for life. Protective. Inventive and imaginative. Cautious. Touchy-feely kind of person. Needs love from others. Easily hurt, but sympathetic.

I won't say what I agree or disagree with. I am curious how I am perceived by others. There are some who read this blog knowing who I am. You know you can comment on these posting anonymously. If you want to say what of this profile is me in your eyes, feel free.

Uh, just remember, it says I am easily hurt. Don't be cruel now, y'all.