Each Day is a New Beginning

Spring is definitely on it's way. I see it in the occasional blue sky and gentle rain and in the yellow and purple crocus that are sticking their little heads through the cold soil. It lifts my heart and brings renewed hope that some of the darkness in the world will soon turn to more laughter, light, love of our fellowmen, women and children and especially our God. 

January and February in the top of the Rocky Mountains brought far less moisture than usual this year, except for the days I needed to be on the ever under-construction freeway. The blizzards would descend with a furry upon demarcation lines in the road's surface that were always changing. And in my rather outdated opinion--since I am no longer exactly young--inattentive and careless driver's were taking too many needless chances that endangered lives and often caused major damage for their fellow travelers. 

I hated leaving my home and took great comfort in knowing that I had a few weeks to finish winter projects. But the beginning of 2025 was far from stress free or enjoyable. January began with my yearly UTI that took me to my friendly Insta care facility where I found that the doctor I had almost enjoyed seeing was no longer there. He had been lighthearted, straight forward and knowledgable. The one I saw this time seemed even older than me, and his bedside manner left something to be desired. But I got the antibiotic I needed and was grateful just knowing I would be feeling better within twenty-four hours.

But that relief didn't last long because on February 8, a friend--whose big Husky dog I had foolishly let come into my home so we could visit while she was taking him on his morning walk--started scratching more furiously than usual. Now I am horribly allergic to both dogs and cats so I knew I was taking a risk, but my friend and I had spent most of January reading and discussing self-help books in hopes of being better able to view some of our childhood trauma more clearly and learning how to put some of it to rest and so we could get on with living.

To make a long story less cumbersome, I got a piece of his hair in my right eye. Two days later the entire eyelid was bright red and very swollen. So I went back to Insta care to see if the hair had gotten lodged under my eyelid because it hurt something awful. The same doctor was there and after I explained what happened, he said it looked like I now had a horrible infection. He gave me a different oral antibiotic, along with an antibiotic eye drop and another eye drop to help the swelling go down. I walked away from the pharmacy feeling rather dejected after spending $130 that had not been part of my budget. 

My eye started to look somewhat better, but two days after the prescription ran out it started to swell up again. But this time there was a big, red lump growing on the surface of my eyelid and my vision was blurry. It wasn't a stye because I'd had one of those before, so I went back to Insta care. This time I got a young, female doctor who, when I showed her the pictures I had been keeping of my eye on my phone, said it was an allergic reaction. She felt confident that a course of steroids would fix me right up.

I wish that had been true. But the minute I was through with the steroids the swelling and discoloration came right back. I was getting nowhere fast seeing regular doctors, so I tried to make an appointment with the one who took care of my eye. But they're very busy people, and the earliest he could see me was three weeks out. By this time I had been dealing with this ugly ordeal for a month and was tired of looking like a freak and having people stare at me whenever I had to be out in public. So I reached out to another friend whom I thought might be able to help.

While I was waiting for a return text, I went to get my allergy shots and told the nurse what I had been going through. She took one look at my eye and said she wanted the allergy doctor to look at it before giving me any injections. He did, but he just gave me a prescription for another antibiotic and told me to call him on Monday if it wasn't doing any better. 

I was at my wit's end by the time I talked to my friend later that day. I had now seen three doctors--each with a different diagnosis and another round of pills. I knew all that medication was not good for me, but I did not want to lose my eyesight or continue looking like some pitiful creature from some horror movie. It was both upsetting and embarrassing because, even at seventy-six, I want to look my best around other people. 

When my friend told me there was an eyelid specialist thirty minutes away, I was both hopeful and amazed because I had never heard of such a thing before. But I took the number and gave them a call. Heavenly Father was really looking out for me because the receptionist said they'd just had a cancellation for the next Tuesday at 7:40 in the morning. I would have been there if it had been in the middle of the night. All I wanted was to look somewhat normal again. 

The next few days I scoured the Internet, and before I even went to the appointment with the specialist I knew what was wrong. Fortunately, I had thrown the last round of antibiotics away after three tablets because I was starting to feel like my heart was going to explode. It might have just been my nerves. But as my system began to clear, my body's natural ability to heal was able to kick in and a huge white pocket was forming over the ugly--and now very hard--red lump. 

The eyelid specialist confirmed my suspicion about a condition called Chalasia where an oil gland gets clogged and can't drain. He said it may have started with the dog hair, but it could just as easily been a coincidence. I don't really believe in coincidences, especially because of the timing, but by making a small incision, he was able to drain some of the fluid. He wasn't able to get as much of the core as hoped, so for the last ten days I've been putting hot rice packs on my eye 4 times a day, for twenty minutes and using a special ointment morning and night.

It seems like that takes most of my day, but I will go back next week to see if surgery is required, or if I will be performing the same daily routine for the next six months to a year. That's how long this condition can take to reverse without intervention. I'm not sure which prognosis sounds best right now. Neither is ideal. But life goes on and new challenges occur on a daily basis.

Right now, I am waiting for my son's phone call as to where things now stand after bringing charges against my ex-husband for molesting my granddaughter and three other young girls from his wife's family. That's all we can verify right now, but this needy, nutty woman is standing by him and has willingly turned against all of her children, grandchildren and siblings to do it. I will never understand how anyone who has been a mother can do that, but then I'm surprised most every day by the evilness in our world today.

Anyway, my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter are meeting with the district attorney, their lawyer and a young woman who went through a similar horrendous experience with a family member to learn what to expect during the preliminary trial on April 3. I'm extremely anxious about what will happen in front of that judge, and pray continually that my ex will take responsibility for his actions and accept the plea deal so no one will have to testify. But like my son, I'm not so sure his pride will allow him to. The success of his life has always been measured by others perception of him, and I doubt that will change now. He'll go down fighting or not at all. 

But I take comfort in knowing that God lives, he is the only true judge, and he does answer prayers--even if we don't always recognize them. 

While it goes without saying that writing blogs has been hard for me lately, it's not just because my health issues have kept me distracted and in a less than positive mood. My mind has been swirling in a hundred different directions almost daily because I am determined to keep my single New Year's resolution. I have been feverishly working on my life history since it's the one thing only I can do. Every other role I play can be filled by someone else if I am not around.

I want my posterity, along with the rest of my family and friends, to better understand the experiences that have made me who I am, and the source I have always turned to for strength and help during my darkest hours. Each of us have a unique story that only we can tell, and I am so grateful Heavenly Father is helping me write mine now. I feel his guidance so often as I try to put into words what is in my heart without casting blame on others who have their own struggles to deal with.

I'll end by saying that it's been a good day. The sun finally came out and I was able to visit an elderly friend who is experiencing acute back pain and take her some home-baked goodies. I do believe in angels. They surround us daily, and I want to be that angel for someone else. It might take some of my time when I could be doing something else, but I always feel so much lighter inside after rendering even the smallest act of kindness. What a privilege it is to serve others and know that I am trying to follow in my Savior's footsteps. 

Can You Breath Again?

What a historic day we are living through. I hope everyone listened to President Trump's Inaugural Address--preferably without the biased, liberal commentary of the deep state left. Other than on a few occasions like this, I am glad I have nothing but rabbit ears for television viewing. Main stream media provides little wholesome viewing and their deranged commentaries on the news do nothing but cause disinformation and globalists ideals to spread to the unsuspecting and uninformed. 

If I ever have a few moments when I want to let my mind go blank and just veg, I put in a DVD of an inspirational movie or an old tv series that isn't laced with media propaganda. However, I have discovered that some of the television series I thought were nothing but the creative genius of writers were really contrived glimpses into the future the globalist elites and deep state had in mind for us--one filled with terrorist activities, manmade disasters that displace our citizens with no relief or recourse, civil unrest, human and drug trafficking, unrelenting war and crime-ridden cities--to name just a few.

It made my heart hurt during my hour or so of viewing as I was forced to listen to the platitudes and lies the anchors perpetrated about the greatness and humility of the democrats and known rhinos who were in attendance. Those dialogues became even more intolerable because not a single patriot was spared at least one disparaging remark. Even our lovely, kind and gracious First Lady, Melania, was censured as being a former model who was overly concerned about her appearance. 

But in a way, I am glad I watched it on a very politically biased outlet because it made perfectly clear the far-reaching extent of hypocrisy in the outgoing administration, and put into perspective just how greatly our beautiful country has suffered under their leadership. 

I hope never to forget the look on President Trump's face in those brief moments before making his inaugural address to our nation. He appeared calm and composed on the surface, but his eyes let me know just how human he is and how heavy his burdens weigh. I prayed for his continued strength, safety and guidance, along with that of his family who have already endured so much opposition and hatred. These stalwart, loyal and brave individuals could have walked away from the continuing fight for our freedoms, but they close to stand by their husband, father and grandfather not knowing what other sacrifices they might be called on to make as a family.

President Trump has lived through and risen above many horrific battles, including several assassination attempts, but the precipice he was standing on at that moment could bring the ultimate battles of his life. The stage had been set and the majority of people stood with him, but the dark and sinister forces he had been dealing with for the past nine years had barely begun their fight. When Kamala Harris said just a few days ago--with that ever-present and annoying cackle--that she would not disappear into the night she was including her unprincipled comrades who had already unleashed almost intolerable pain and chaos and stood ready and prepared to do more. 

But for President Trump, whom providence had protected and brought to this moment, there would be no turning back after his speech was delivered. While his remarks would bring rounds of applause and unprecedented joy to those who believed as he did, they would also unleash unimaginable fury from the far-left activists as he reemphasized his promises to return our country to God, to its amazing constitution and to the lawful citizens whose beautiful home it is and who enabled such a glorious victory.

I felt immense pride and gratitude as he rose to his feet and made those few steps to the lectern. He was prepared, powerful and committed. Nearly every promise reiterated brought a standing ovation from the crowd, but all the former presidents and their wives--including Harris and her husband--sat as if unable to move. The expressions on their faces ranged from rage and fear to a pretense of apathy. They managed to pull it together when he mentioned the hostages being released, but their contempt was ever present. 

It was impossible not to notice two things during the short ceremony that may have been more than a simple oversight or a mechanical failure with the sound system. The facial reactions from those individuals mentioned in the above paragraph was very telling, and the outcome far different from what they expected. First, time was not given for President Trump's family to join him before he placed his hand on two Bibles and Justice Roberts began to swear him into office. The smaller Bible had been given to him by his mother and the larger one president Lincoln had used at his inauguration. 

Could there be some underlying meaning with that? Considering the sharp division in our country after the last four years of brainwashing and manipulation it seems entirely possible. As does his inauguration landing on Martin Luther King Day--also a time for remembering promised deliverance from oppression. 

Second was the loss of sound when Carrie Underwood stood up to sing America the Beautiful. The faces behind her were not sympathetic, but she handled it with complete grace. Her a cappella rendition was so moving most everyone joined in to sing with her--even some of those who had been so completely stoic before. The love for our country and the joy felt to be on the verge of reclaiming its foundational principles must have been electric. Nonetheless, I cannot help but wonder why the soundboard was still working for all the microphones on stage and only the channel controlling her background music was affected. Guess the conspiracy theorist in me is still alive and well.

I am so grateful my fellow patriots and I have made it this far. The hope for a beautiful future with our constitutional rights being upheld once again and all the woke nonsense and support for criminals being abolished is strong. But I fear the war we are waging against so many unseen forces of evil is far from being over. That's why we can never become complacent and think we've already done our part. 

President Trump and all those unnamed heroes fighting for our freedoms need our support and strength more than ever. We can now speak the truth and stand up for what we believe without fear of complete retribution by unknown forces that have been allowed to silence us during these past few years. Not that it won't take time to undo all the damage that has spread into every sector of our lives, but the plan is being implemented as of today. If we stand strong and immovable we will prevail and our posterity will be true recipients of the American dream that has been undermined and, in far too many instances, destroyed.

I do feel like I can breath again--at least for the moment. But evil men and women, whose true master is Satan, never sleep and have unlimited resources. However, what they don't seem to understand is that God is truly in charge. He is our maker, offering strength, courage and hope because righteousness will eventually prevail. And if we are on His side we really have nothing to fear. So I'll say my prayers and try to remain as prepared and positive as possible for whatever may come my way because I am a believer in God, in truth and in the goodness of the vast majority of my fellow travelers during this mortal journey.

 

A Quarter of a New Century Gone

It's mid-morning on January 1, 2025 and the clouds hang heavy outside my living room windows. The white branches of the Quaking Apsen trees stand still against  a milky whiteness that appears thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Gone is the sunshine from yesterday making it a very dreary day indeed. But there is a certain solace in a world without outside movement after the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. My body and heart are ready for some time spent in self-reflection and deciding what I want this new year to be.

My thoughts about the importance of the minutes and hours it would bring changed very rapidly last night after my son picked up the two family dogs I had been watching for a week while they spent time with his biological family. Needless to say, the week was more bitter than sweet. While the enthusiasm of the puppies is fun to watch, my allergies kicked in with more force than usual almost immediately--most likely intensified because it rained or snowed the entire time and their little feet brought in plant mold and mud from the yard in addition to the allergens their bodies automatically produced. I got extra shots to help combat what having them around did to my own system but by Sunday night my eyes were horribly red, swollen and itching. I spent the last two days of their stay in the basement tying off queen-size quilts since they much preferred the main part of the house and only came down occasionally to see if I was still there.

After the baby quilt humanitarian project of October and November, I had decided to  make large quilts for each member of my immediate family for Christmas next year. While that was a noble and reachable goal, my OCD behavior told me I might as well use up all the fabric I had left in one of my storage closets. I knew it would make my kids happy because they seemed to enjoy complaining about having to get rid of all my stuff when I was gone. I had finished tying nine big quilt tops--enough to fulfill my goal with two left over--by the time the dogs left and was excited to get my house de-dogged so I could sew together the fabric for three more. That would take care of all the batting I had and all but a few folds of fabric. 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that every piece of fabric I had matched so carefully with something else was only 36 inches wide instead of the 44-45 I had been using and needed for the size of the quilts I was making. Normally, when confronted with such a disaster that stopped my plans cold, I would have fallen into an immediate panic and begun planning a next-day trip to the fabric store. But as I stood at my dining room table where my sewing machine sat ready for use, a sudden burst of relief washed over me. I had the amount of quilts I needed for next Christmas and enough was enough!!! I may have wanted but certainly didn't NEED any more. So I returned everything I had planned on using to the basement closet and took the long quilting frames to the garage where the were returned to a top shelf for storage until another overwhelming mood hit me.

I thought I would regret my decision this morning, but I had a dream last night that didn't make much logical sense because it bounced around so much, but the overall meaning was more than clear. My time for busy behaviors that kept me from dwelling on recent hurts, even more than those of the past, needed to stop. Change was coming and I wouldn't be prepared to deal with any of it unless I was in a place where hearing the promptings of the Spirit of God was possible. 

While we have a new president-elect whose plans to Make America Great Again fill me with a hope that brings tears to my eyes, I also know that we are in the final hours before our Savior's return and that means the chaos, fear and unimaginable acts of cruelty and horror are not going to end. That is certainly made clear enough as we see the potential for war looming in many parts of the world, the horrific crime in so many areas of our country dramatically escalating, and those who oppose the patriot movement to restore our constitutional republic ready and willing to commit any act of treason or inhumanity to keep their depraved actions hidden and their goal of enslaving the world from completely falling apart.

That's why my focus this year has changed from learning everything I can about how we got to where we are as a human society that seems intent on destroying itself to defining who I am as an individual and what I can do in my own circle of influence to help those I meet feel some of the hope and peace I do. God is in charge, and come what may, I want to be His hands in helping to move His work forward. What a glorious day it will be for the faithful when the Savior returns, but we have to get through all the revelations about the destructive and dreadful last days first. I'm ready to put on my running shoes, take my vitamins and push forward with more energy and purpose than I ever have before.

But . . .  That's always the word that gets me in trouble, as it may well do for many of you. I can find excuses every day to remain complacent and leave the foot work to others. I love being in my home with the doors and windows locked to keep the outside world away, but that is neither possible nor profitable for an extended period of time. While my need to find my center again is great, I can't just abandon duties and responsibilities to take an extended ME vacation. But I can focus on creating a better balance between personal needs, wants and desires, rendering service and compassion to others and finding out what God really needs for me to do before my earthly journey is over.

That seems like a daunting task and one I have contemplated several times in the past before something seemingly more pressing has pulled me away. Take, for example, the need to write a personal life history that may give clarity to my existence to whatever posterity I might have. I have been working at, or around it, for years but my time is running out. That quarter of a century I mentioned in the title is kinda bugging me since I have already lived three-quarters of one and don't seem to have much to show for it except an aging body, lots more wrinkles and saggy skin than I would like, and the lack of energy to do much more than what is required at the time. It's also been hard to accomplish much with a project like that  since I have near total memory loss when it comes to my life's experiences and what I do remember has been both traumatic and painful. It's also not my place to cast blame on anyone or bring to light faults, shortcomings or downright abuse administered by others since I have plenty to account for myself. Besides, all of us will eventually receive just rewards for the kind of lives we've lived and the thoughts we've had while on earth, and having someone who is far wiser do all the judging is okay with me. 

However, I do have a responsibility to leave something to those who come after me. Will anyone really care what I ate for breakfast or how much things cost? Highly doubtful, except for perhaps a passing interest, since they will be consumed with their own challenges and worries. And I'm certainly not able to predict what their futures may hold, but I can write about my own dark moments of pain, disappointment and loss of things I desired most and the growth and personal understanding they have fostered. I can talk about what make me happy, gives me hope and broadens my spiritual perception. But mostly I can bear witness that God lives and loves us, and that our Savior, Jesus Christ, died that we might live again and even gain a state of exaltation if we're willing to pay the price of repentance for sins committed. That includes truly striving to keep all the commandments given for therein is true inner peace, safety and joy regardless of what might be going on around us.

I'm not sure how long my resolve will last. I tend to drift easily away from things that seem overwhelming or uninteresting like eating better, daily exercise and the like, but something feels different today. Maybe it's the landmark of having seventy-five years of living on this planet behind me and knowing that each year I am given now is a true gift. There just isn't time to worry about all the things that have mattered most in the past. I will never be young again in this part of my journey and most people will still dismiss me as having having no value because I'm old. But I'm still young, vital, hopeful, energetic and even playful on the inside where it really matters and I'm not going to let others tell me I can't dance to my favorite music or whirl around in the rain or eat chocolate every day because it tastes better than lettuce. 

That beautiful, God-given spirit I came to earth with still resides inside of me and I need to acknowledge and honor its presence since it will remain with me throughout all the eternities that lay ahead. How grateful I am for a new year that can be filled with peace, joy and understanding in a world filled with strife and chaos if we choose to focus our attention on the things that matter most--our families, our life purpose and our relationship with our Heavenly Father and our Savior.

The sky is the same weirdly heavy white it was when I started this post. Not even a branch in the trees has moved. That kind of stillness has a certain forbidding about it since there is no way of knowing what tomorrow might bring. But it won't really matter as long as I'm doing what I feel is right. I'll be up early and on the road to a place where I can offer the kind of service to others that they cannot do for themselves. May 2025 be the best year ever for all of you. It truly is a glorious time to live.  

Best Gift Ever

It's hard to believe that Christmas will be over in a week and a new year will begin in two. Despite all the uncertainty and downright horrid events of this past year that have left so many people in our country with heavy hearts, empty pocketbooks and a constant uncertainty about the future, the presidential election in November gave us patriots the best possible gift we could ever hope for. Like many of you, I spent September and October praying for a positive outcome and yet silently preparing financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually for what the fake news outlets proclaimed was a tight race where the outcome could never be accurately predicted. 

But my nervousness changed to sorrow and unbelief as Hurricane Helene struck with such savage rage along the southern part of our eastern border decimating entire towns, killing untold numbers and leaving carnage everywhere.. More trustworthy news sources immediately began reporting what one would never hear by turning on the television or looking at the most well-known Internet sites. While I am still waiting for positive confirmation, what I learned made perfect sense since I awakened from the media-induced brainwashing imposed by the global elite and their cronies two years ago. That said, it came as no surprise that Direct Energy Weapons could easily have been used to manipulate this event just as they had done in the Maui, California and Canadian fires, along with the other world catastrophes that were blamed on climate change instead of diabolic human interference. 

Nor did the fact that a profitable lithium mine lay at the epicenter of this manmade tragedy. A mine VP Harris had secured a fat government grant to open as quickly as possible and one her husband had obtained massive shares in just days before the entire town at its base was destroyed. Human greed and inhumane acts of treachery, treason and cowardliness have always been part of civilizations, but shooting people because they wouldn't leave the remains of their homes and preventing rescue efforts and much-needed supplies from being distributed in our own country nearly broke my heart. Learning that organizations like FEMA and Red Cross were complicit in these actions wasn't a surprise either, but it certainly solidified my beliefs about giving to charities where donations end up where they were supposed to go. 

But I digress from what I really want to say and why I have been absent from posting anything for over two months. Besides having a broken heart I was far too busy to think about anything other than the monumental task I set for myself. It was something I had never anticipated doing, but it was also something that has truly changed my heart and how I feel about worldly possessions and spending so much time worrying about, or searching for them. This journey began a few days after the first reports came from North Carolina outlining what so many people were facing. On one side of a split-screen Fox News report was the picture of a young black woman and on the other her two newborn twin daughters who had been swept away in the flooding. Having lost every baby I tried to carry, my heart went out to her. Within minutes those tender feelings, brought on by a prompting I couldn't ignore, turned into a plan for action.. 

In my basement closet was a stack of fabric I had been collecting over the years to use for baby quilts for my posterity. Since my two grandchildren will not need 30 or 40 quilts for the children I hope they will someday have, I decided that with the purchase of batting  and 20 or so yards for backing I could make 40 quilts to donate. I went to the fabric store the next day where they just happened to be having a forty percent off sale on batting. I bought 20 yards and then picked up some plain fabric at Walmart since it was cheaper there. I cut and stacked everything and even cut squares for patchwork tops I would sew together from leftover scraps. I was feeling such a high that I went back three days later to buy more supplies.

That was just the beginning of my journey. With each knot tied or each stitch put in around the edges for binding I felt my heart grow a little softer. I had no idea if the quilts I was making would go to my sisters in North Carolina and their little ones who had been left with nothing or to some mother in a third world country I had never heard of. But I liked thinking about babies being swaddled in warm blankets and laying their mother's arms feeling safe, loved and secure. I worked hours each day for over two weeks before I shared what I was doing with someone else. That sister suggested that I open up my project to other women in our church and see what the reaction was. I'm certainly glad I did.

I hosted a work day where four quilts were tied and two others partially done. I also received donations of batting for 20 quilts and fabric for 10. One sister offered to help bind. She had never done it before and I had to completely redo the first two as she struggled to figure out how to do a blind stitch with the proper tension. She ended up completing five before telling me it just wasn't her cup of tea. Two teenage girls wanted to learn how to do it so I worked with them on that. 

I was so busy during the month of October I didn't have time to worry about the election. Each quilt completed made me want to do more, so I did. And I didn't worry about where the money would come from because God was providing all I needed, along with the physical strength and resiliency to complete my task. I wanted to turn them in to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah where I knew they would go to people in need since they are always the first charitable organization to respond to a disaster anywhere in the world. 

But I had to postpone my original date of completion by 10 days because my project continued to grow. Every time I went to the store I would look at fabric and feel the need to purchase more. I was truly lost in my service to people I would never meet and I had never felt better, regardless of the fact that my hands and back where throbbing most of the time from overuse. I simply couldn't give up until I knew the time was right. That time came the week after Thanksgiving when I had completed 80 quilts on my own---double what I had promised myself I would do.  

When I finally called the center to tell them I was ready to come, I had 100 quilts to donate--two of them queen size that a local elementary school had done as part of a Thanksgiving activity. Another sister I had never met added 132 crocheted hats and 26 pairs of gloves. It was hard to keep the tears back as a friend and I loaded her car to the max for our drive to Salt Lake City. I felt my heart would burst as I walked into that center and saw pictures of our Savior on the walls and verses of scriptures and other positive thoughts on the walls everywhere. The feeling of peace and calm in a world filled with so much chaos and turmoil was almost overwhelming. And I knew in that moment that any act of service we give will be multiplied exponentially upon us. 

I've tried to keep that feeling alive the last couple of weeks as I've prepared for Christmas. Baking treats for neighbors and making sure people within my circle of influence who have needs receive some of the help and comfort they need has given me a new appreciation for the life and gift of our Savior, Jesus Christ. How grateful I am for his birth in that stable so many years ago, for the shepherds who came to worship him and the Wisemen who kept his whereabouts a secret. The love and devotion of his earthy parents in protecting him from evil rulers and giving him guidance as he grew will remain somewhat of a mystery during this life. But as a parents I know there is nothing I would not do for one of my children or grandchildren, and I know they felt the same way about no sacrifice being too much. 

I will never fully understand the true majesty of the Christ child's ultimate gifts. Eternal life, the chance to earn forgiveness for sins and live with our Heavenly Father and earthly family again are too all-encompassing for my finite mind to comprehend, but my appreciation for such gifts grows each day as I study more about his life. I want to KNOW him when I kneel before him one day, not just know about him. 

How grateful I am for this Christmas season, despite certain parts of my life not being what I wished they could be. Sorrow and joy are opposites and I'm here to experience both. That's why tonight I'm taking dinner into a family I met on Sunday. The mother had back surgery a couple of weeks ago and her 38 year-old sister died unexpectedly last week. She's in a lot of pain and my hands are the ones Jesus has for this task. 

May you feel Christ's love is my Christmas wish for each of you. He will walk with you if you ask him to and carry you when you need it. He will always be your best friend offering hope, comfort and help. What a glorious season this is and how lucky we are to have it.

So Grateful for True Patriots

It is hard to put into words how much my heart aches for all the families whose lives have been irrevocably altered by the ongoing destruction and loss brought about through Hurricane Helene's fury. It is equally difficult to read or hear reports coming from honest men and women not associated with the mass media--which is controlled by global elites and their cronies. However, I am incredibly thankful to have been made aware of conservative and military news platforms whose anchors and reporters are not afraid to risk reputation, loss of job or even their lives to keep those who are ready to hear what is really going on informed. The events of the past week that so closely resemble the happenings in Hawaii a little over a year ago--only far more widely spread and destructive--are just further proof of Satan's control over the lives of men and women who seek money and power in exchange for promoting atrocities that can only be conceived while under the evil one's direct influence.

Time will eventually prove the truth behind the things I have been learning the past few days since I have no doubt that God will prevail and those who worship Satan will one-day face the consequences of the atrocities they have helped to foster among his beloved children. We have already been made fully aware of how our current administration is facing such a tragedy involving our own tax paying and country-loving citizens. While vacationing at his beach property as usual, President Biden's only show of compassion and concern was telling reporters that he was being briefed before storming out the room. Meanwhile, Harris was doing additional fundraising with her wealthy and influential supporters in Hollywood and Las Vegas and couldn't be bothered with her fellow countrymen who have lost everything while she was receiving accolades and having fun. Her only comment this week was that they were doing everything they can and the people involved COULD APPLY for $750 through FEMA.

What a slap in the face to be told that FEMA is out of money and can't even fund the rest of the fiscal year after spending billions of that departments allocated dollars to house, feed, clothe and educate illegals--thousands of them convicted felons. When tabulated, the amount given to each illegal is $9,000 and that is just the beginning. That announcement followed a gleeful Harris and Biden raising their arms together in unified satisfaction after sending billions more dollars in aide to Ukraine and Israel while suffering Americans were being left without water, food, medical care or the prospect of ever being rescued. According to one source, Biden signed all foreign and domestic policy over to Harris on October 3, 2024.

Reports are now coming in of a helicopter pilot being told by named officials that he would be arrested if he went looking for more survivors without sanction. He had just brought in a disabled woman and had left his copilot with her husband. He went back for others anyway. And what about the 1,000 troops fully prepared for deployment to help in rescue efforts being told to stand down by FEMA region 4 and Governor Roy Cooper? Law enforcement in Asheville, NC, are reported as having warned business owners that they could be arrested for attempting to recover items from their damaged establishment while organized looters have nothing to fear. 

Last night CNN cut off an Asheville spokesman when she started to criticize the response from Roy Cooper and Biden. The majority of very limited federal and state assets are being diverted to incorporated areas while more rural locals are being left to survive on their own if possible. Bodies of every age including babies are floating down rivers and children as young as three are walking through the mud, nearly naked and crying for their parents. Some still have ropes tied to their arms that are attached to broken lumber--thought to be a last ditch attempt by parents to save their lives. 

According to a lineman who was trying to restore power, heads and limbs of the deceased are being uncovered every time debris is removed and entire communities are simply gone with nothing left to repair. There is a horrible stench that is increasing by the day. In some areas, local citizens are organizing, patrolling their own areas and trying to keep the looters from causing more havoc.  According to persons wanting to help, volunteers are being sent away and entire communities, like Chimney Rock, NC, are being bulldozed without even trying to account for deaths. In Chandler, NC, 2,000 residents have been without food or water for 6 days and just got an SOS message out for help since all communication has been disrupted. There have been incidences of FEMA and the Red Cross claiming money that is being personally delivered to high schools and other center points in the area for recovery and humanitarian efforts. 

And here's a real kicker! Besides the residents of Chimney Rock, NC, being told that their town was being covered by earth, they were informed that the homes that were still standing were no longer theirs and the federal government owned it all. Is it just just a coincidence that there are lithium mines and the Burra Burra copper mine with its thousand of acres at the junction of Tennessee, Georgia and North Carolina? Or that high-purity quartz mines owned by Sibelco North America and The Quartz--the only places where certain materials used in making make semiconductors are found--are also in the same geographical area?

I'll leave you to do your own research and come to your own conclusions since I am simply an information messenger. But I am fully aware that our mortgages are written in terms that give the government the justifiable right to seize any property they desire regardless of whether or not it has been fully paid for. We are known as tenants, not owners, and that leaves us horribly vulnerable to any entity that chooses to do evil.

The timing on so many unbelievable events that have occurred recently is more than just suspicious and may take years to unravel, but I must contrast what I have written above with how President Trump responded to Hurricane Helene. Within in hours he was standing with the people who were in shock and suffering while the Biden and Harris camp were too busy enjoying themselves to show even an ounce of compassion towards our unfortunate brothers and sisters who were going through the worst days of the their lives. He brought a message of hope, compassion and love along with truckloads of food, water and much-needed supplies. He gave 25 million dollars of his own money to help in rescue and survival and made the open promise that he would not stop until everyone was accounted for and people were able to resume living as best they could. Elon Musk said he would use Star Link to make sure everyone had a means for connecting with others, only to have his generous offer thwarted by the Biden-Harris team. 

Whatever your personal feelings about the man himself, one cannot deny President Trump's love for America, his compassion for others and willingness to put himself in harms way to fulfill promises made. He is a man of action, of iron will when it comes to protecting America and her people, and he is willing to lose everything in defending the freedom and liberty so many persons within our borders take so blithely for granted. After two full-on attempts to take his life--and several others than were foiled before fruition--he stands tall and unstoppable in his beliefs that we are a country too good to be lost to ideologies that only want to destroy liberty. America is just a shell of what it was during his presidency, and I pity those who brandish unmitigated hate while making the decision at the ballot box. I firmly believe they will rue their actions one day. 

I close with a message of hope, joy and the belief that righteousness will prevail. We are in perilous times, but we are not alone unless we chose to be. This is God's country, built to secure inalienable rights for us and the ability to shed the light of freedom on all persons of the world who long for what we have. But those freedoms are not without cost to those of us who have enjoyed such glorious bounty. We are being asked to stand with the patriots who are fighting a war unlike any other in history and the cost if we lose is unfathomable. 

I encourage each of you to reach outside your comfort zone in letting others know how you truly feel. God will sustain you as he is doing countless patriots like President Trump, Glenn Beck, Tucker Carlson, JD Vance and millions of other like-minded persons who have outwardly chosen freedom over tyranny. The globalists are running scared but that only means they will use every method and means available to stop us from letting the truth be known. I understand the fear of taking a stand. Each time I write a post I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone with a far leftist viewpoint could come after me, but then I remind myself that I am here to serve God and remaining quiet is only giving my approval as to what is going on in the country I love and hardly recognize any more.

Stay safe! Pray always and know that God and our Savior live! Do everything you can to help save our great republic. Let hope replace fear and feel gratitude for being here to watch prophesy be fulfilled.  

It's Been a Long Time

Like many of you, I'm sure these past few months have been filled with utter amazement, total disbelief and complete dismay as you try to figure out what is really going on when a sitting president can be removed from office without impeachment; a former president, whose candidacy has just been announced, is forced to undergo one indictment after another on witch hunt investigations whose only purpose is to bankrupt and force him to drop out; and when a woman whose own party had no faith in her ability to utter a simple sentence without turning it into a word salad no one could understand is suddenly crowned the Democratic nominee without so much as a single vote of confidence. 

It's like some dystopian novel where every law, social construct and individual liberty is under constant attack and the reader is left to wonder just how much time the innocent heroes and heroines have before the powerful elites and their cronies pull the final plug driving everyone but themselves into a life of servitude and utter misery. But I must admit that as bad as things are in our country right now with innocent people being victimized while the corrupt, vengeful haters go blithely about their privileged existence, I did find one strong ray of hope during my visit to see my sister a couple of weeks ago. It was positive proof that those who love God, country and family still exist. In America's heartland people are willing to speak their beliefs while so many individuals where I live fear for their safety should anyone learn they are Trump supporters. 

It shouldn't be like in a country whose Founding Father's recognized God's hand in forming a Constitution and Bill of Rights that were meant to ensure our continued liberties and freedom. Watching those precious gifts slip away as some Americans, and most of the illegals that have been let inside our country without vetting, demand more and more government support is truly horrifying. I hope it's only because those in power--along with the media, educational and entertainment support they have purchased and indoctrinated over the years--have simply brainwashed the masses. My belief is that the majority of Americans are still good, honest, hardworking, God-fearing individuals who love the flag and all it stands for and will vote their true conscience when the time for truth arrives.

I will admit that with all the violent unrest in our country I was somewhat hesitant to even get on a plane and fly into the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri. The terrorists throughout our nation have been brought here and mobilized for a reason and they're getting antsy to do their worst to anyone who does not live in an ivory tower behind high fences and elaborate security systems. But I kept telling myself that God knows what is in store for us as individuals and our country as a whole. The scriptures put it very plainly as to what will happen in the days preceding Christ's return. And while I never thought I would live to see what is happening now, I need to accept the blessing of continued mortality since I obviously have further work to do before being called home. 

What an amazing surprise awaited as my sister and I left the freeway to enter Branson, Missouri. Opposite the first stop light was a Trump store selling memorabilia and it was packed. "That's new," I told my sister. "I wonder if the other one on Highway 76 is still there?" We drove a few miles further and the one we had visited the year before was packed with tourists too. For the first time in months, I felt like I was finally in a place where I could be myself without fearing retaliation of some kind. All along the strip were signs supporting Trump and men, women and children wearing Trump hats and other gear. Flags were flying, pedestrians were walking on the sidewalks and police cars were openly visible letting me know that I could feel safe here.

Our condo was the best one we'd found yet with a king-sized bed in each bedroom and plenty of room to spread out in the living area and enjoy the ambience. After unpacking, I blew up the cutest polkadot balloons while my sister hung a Happy Birthday sign over the fireplace. We'd decided the year before to start celebrating our November birthdays early since no one else seemed to care about giving us a party or even remembering that we were a year older. What fun it was to sing Happy Birthday to each other, make wishes, blow out candles, open presents and eat birthday cake while we talked about things only close sister would dare share. 

For eight glorious days, we slept later than usual, ate breakfast on the balcony, took our time getting ready for the day and only went to shows we really wanted to see. We took three pans filled with homemade cinnamon rolls to the theatre where our friends performed and spent time visiting with them along with those who worked behind the scenes and out front in the ticket and concession area. It was such fun, but my most touching memories are of the people we met who were part of the audience. An entire group of church ladies from Kansas City who were on a weekend retreat praised God for his goodness and mercy numerous times during one performance. There were four black women who for three days came to every show we did and we felt like sisters from the start. There were hugs, kisses and laughter each time we saw them, and they were always talking about God, country and family and our responsibility to make sure we didn't lose those great blessings. It was humbling being around women who were not afraid to proclaim their beliefs to anyone who would listen. 

And then there was a dear couple we had met the year before who was there for three days while we were. The husband would dance with three or four of us at a time so no one would feel left out, and his wife was just as gracious and loving as anyone could ever be. They helped me through the awkwardness of seeing once again the entertainer who dumped me as even a friend a year and a half earlier for not wanting to sleep with him. I'm still working on getting over that one because the guy in question likes playing mind games. He refuses to talk to me, but he'll dance an entire number during a show with me, hold me close, run his fingers around my back and smile at me like he used to while on stage. My sister says he's just trying to let me know what I missed out on by not giving him what he wanted. She's probably right, but his immature attitude still hurts.

Returning home was bittersweet. I was grateful my flight had not been cancelled, nor had anything major happened within our nation to disrupt our lives. But it's hard being basically alone again. I suppose my depressed state of mind made me more careless than usual because after picking vegetables and watering the garden and flowers I inadvertently left the hose running for 48 hours. I was horrified when I discovered what I had done and not the least bit happy to find out that some of the water had leaked into my family room in the basement. I soaked up as much as I could with every towel I had and wrung them out with hands that are no longer as strong as they once were before putting them in the washing machine. Then I went to Lowes and bought a vet/dry vacuum hoping it would suction out more of the water that was still on the concrete underneath the carpet. It didn't work like the advertisements proclaim, but thankfully the water only got as far as the sectional and rug in front of it. I've had the window open for 10 days now and if the weather holds there shouldn't be any mold. 

But what I still call my stupidity left me with a second dilemma. What was such a disheartening mistake going to cost, besides buying a vac that didn't really work with carpet? I called the city utility company but they couldn't offer any assistance until the meter was read sometime during the coming week. I poured over the city guidelines found online and was sickened to read that a running hose could fill between 9 and 17 gallon buckets a minute. At worst it was 1020 gallons per hour and mine had been running for 48. Using the cost per thousand gallons table, I tried to calculate how many gallons I had used the month before. From what I could determine I would owe an extra $220 at best and at worst an extra $500. I immediately shut off my AC and tried to decide what I could do without to help make up the difference. Living on a fixed income that is barely above the poverty level isn't easy but I knew God would help me. I just needed to exercise enough trust and go on living. 

I got a call from the utility company this morning saying the reading had been taken and it looked like I would only owe and extra ten dollars. My relief was palpable. I knew being gone for two weeks during the billing period would help offset my mistake but my sprinklers were still running three mornings a week. I told the sweet girl on the other end of the line that she had made my entire month. She assured me her information had come directly from the billing department, but if there was any discrepancy when the bill physically arrived to let her know. 

Our world might still be in a huge mess that could get much worse in the coming weeks, but I feel far more serene than I have for quite some time. God's tender mercies are all around us if we'll just open our eyes, minds and hearts to them. I pray every night and morning for President Trump and all the brave patriots who stand so faithfully beside him. I trust that God will keep him safe so he can help save our country from the tyrants who wish to destroy it. But I also know that if the unthinkable happens God is still in charge. This is a land of promise as long as we worship him. Many have chosen to do otherwise, but my trip to Branson let me know just how many honest, loving and spiritual people still exist and they have no intention of losing any more of their freedoms. 

I stand with them and each of you who love God, country and family as much as I do. My heart is filled to overflowing as I type my last words because I know God lives, Jesus is the Christ--our Savior and the Redeemer of all mankind. We can feel peace in a troubled world as we put our faith and trust in them and strive to be the best we can possibly be.

A Little Golden Book

I have been in a reflective mood the past few days. Perhaps it's the heatwave engulfing us in the high mountain desert where I live that sucks the very air out of my lungs the minute the sun comes into view. I know I have altered my daily routine quite drastically for the next week or so to accommodate the persistent misery. The weeds will be left to grow without constant interference on my part and the grass will remain uncut until the triple digit temperatures recede. But I will arise early, or go out after dusk if the mosquitos cooperate, to water my flowers and garden because I can't bear to see anything growing die--with the exception of previously mentioned noxious weeds and flying insects that love taking bites from my exposed flesh. 

An angry yellow jacket bit into my elbow Saturday night as I leaned over the deck to water a plant the sprinklers had missed. Apparently he and his friends had built a nest underneath the ledge that I had somehow missed. I swatted at him with my free hand and he managed to get a finger and my forehead before flying away. I had forgotten how horribly one of their bites hurts, but I knew what to do since this wasn't the first time it had happened. After scrubbing each affected area with soapy water, I turned to my book on essential oils. Basil was called for and it was sitting on the shelf right in front of me. I generously applied it to all three affected areas and waited as patiently as I could--without feeling too sorry for myself. Within an hour the penetration lumps, blotchy red and puffy skin and pain were gone. What a blessing it was to know what to do and have the needed materials on hand. 

Needless to say, I took the long end of a broom handle to that nest and three other smaller ones as soon as those none-too-friendly beasties with their long, yellow and black stripped, segmented bodies were no longer quite so active. Unfortunately, there is a fast-growing and much bigger nest under a peaked eve on the back of my house that will have to be dealt with by a professional, or later in the fall when the pesky critters are hibernating. I really don't want to be standing twenty feet in the air on a ladder and have an entire hive of them come after me. I might not be so lucky a second time.

Perhaps being attacked in such a vicious way has inadvertently added to my apathy and loss of energy when it comes to doing anything more strenuous than cleaning a closet, washing a few dishes or reading a book. But that inactivity has brought me to the realization that it's okay to take a break from the routine tasks of living occasionally and contemplate the more important reasons for being alive--especially now when the world is in such turmoil and we are facing the most important election of our lifetime. 

Two Christmas's ago my youngest sister sent each of us siblings a book that has sat on my dest without being opened until today. Perhaps I thought I was too grown up to read a book titled Everything I Need to Know I learned from a Little Golden Book, but I'm so glad I allowed the child within to surface for a few minutes this afternoon. Looking at the pictures I remember from my own childhood and reading brief words from some of the books I loved most like The Poky Little Puppy and The Tree Little Kittens, I felt some of that awe and wonderment from childhood return and felt much lighter inside than I have for quite some time.

Diane Muldrow, a longtime editorial director at Golden Books, made a few comments in the introduction that really hit home for me. She talked about being tantalized by the golden-edged books we saw on shelves at stores everywhere and how much we cherished looking at the pictures after scrawling our names inside the front cover where it said This Book Belongs To . . . . I remember that well and still have a few of the ones I got as a child.

Times were definitely much simpler back them, and I'm sure I learned as much from those little books of childish wisdom as I did from any adult because they spoke to me on a level I could understand using animals I loved to tell their stories. But we grow up and are forced to look at our lives through different lenses. Sadly, many of us don't much like what we see.

Muldrow states, "Ironically, in this health-conscious, ecologically aware age of information, many of us have over borrowed, overspent, overeaten, and generally overdosed on habits or ways of life that aren't good for us--or for our world. The chickens have come home to roost, and their names are Debt, Depression, and Diabetes.

"How did we get here? How, like Tootle the Train, did we get so far off track? Perhaps it's time to revisit these beloved stories and start all over again. Trying to figure out where you belong, like Scuffy the Tugboat? Maybe, as time marches on, you're beginning to feel like you resemble the Saggy, Baggy Elephant.

"Or perhaps your problems are more sweeping. Like the Poky Little Puppy, do you seem to be getting into trouble rather often and missing out on the strawberry shortcake in life? Maybe this book can help you? After all, Little Golden Books were first published during the dark days of World War II, and they've been comforting people during trying times ever since--while gently teaching us thing or two. And they remind us that we've had the potential to be wise and content all along."

Best introduction to a book that I've read for a very long time and the verbiage and pictures inside didn't disappoint. Just to tantalize your imagination and get it moving again, here are three excerpts. "Is your life starting to feel like a circus? Don't panic . . . Today's a new day! Get dressed first thing. (Sweatpants are bad for morale. Put on something nice.) Have some pancakes. Get some exercise everyday. Frolic. Daydream. Go on a joyride. Stroll. Bird-watch. Treat yourself. The simplest things are often the most fun!

". . . . Dare to explore. What's out there for you? Express yourself. Try a new look! Be unique. Just don't go overboard. Start planning that dream too. Soon you'll be on your way. Be open to making new friends . . . even if you're very, very shy. Keep in touch. Hang out. Steer clear of shady characters. Be discriminating. Choose your companions wisely. 

". . . . Let your children know you love them. Work hard. Play hard. But not too hard. Do no harm. Be proud of your country. Don't let the parade pass you by! Think big! Toot your own horn! Believe in Santa Clause . . . Love at first sight. . . and that your ship will come in. As long as you do, your life is bound to be golden!"

It's a book most every adult can relate to and would be a welcome gift to anyone who likes to read or is feeling a little down. I know it stopped me from my spiral thinking and helped me see how truly blessed I am to have a life, a home, a family, a mind unafraid to travel and something important to do each day. There's not anything outside my circle of influence I can change and probably very little within it. But it's not healthy to think about seemingly unsolvable problems all the time.

What is healthy is to thank God for our daily blessings. Sometimes we may not readily see them, but that only means we are concentrating on something else. The hot weather I'm experiencing right now won't last forever. It will be fall soon and I'll have my small harvest of things that are important to me. Few people love gardening the way I do, but they love other things that I don't. What a marvelous world we live in and how blessed we are as Christians to know where we came from, why we are here, and where we will be going when this life is over. 

I want to stop borrowing trouble and live in the moment because that's all any of us can count on.