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It felt silent but rather, it was the gentle orchestra of the backwoods. My dogs stay close while all around us acorns bounce off of the ground that is covered with pine needles the color of an amber beach. The transitioning green ferns now spotted in shades of brown, dance in the breeze as autumn’s-colored leaves flutter like butterflies. Almost tiptoeing, we walk, scanning trees and fallen wood branches for any sign of hidden life. Caught by surprise, a chipmunk makes its shrieking, chipping noise and scampers away. Squirrels bark, warning the forest of a hawk or an owl which is present and looking for lunch. Spotting some raccoons, I call the dogs in to sit and stay nearby. Always attentive, they move their heads, instinctively sniffing the air with their noses and perking up their ears.
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 Years ago my mother gave me a book (one of many). The book is called The Book In Review, by Herbert Vanderlugt. It is a quick and wonderful review of the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. The book follows two streams, one of individual salvation and one world redemption- as they flow through the Bible. (page 192) At the very end the last words or quote is from a man named Eric Sauer and it is one of my favorite messages about God. " We behold with worship this age-long plan of God. The record of salvation in the Bible has conducted us from the gate of eternity before all time to the gate of eternity after this time. The goal is exactly as the commencement (Psalm 90:2), God Himself...But He Himself, the King of ages (1Timothy 1:17), will then bring ages upon ages out of His inexhaustible, infinite fullness (Revelation 22:5; Ephesians 2:7). In heavenly jubilees will His redeemed creatures praise Him, and through the spheres and worlds of the new creation will ring and resound the triumphant, exultant song: "Unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, be the blessing, and the honor, and the glory, and the dominion, from eternity to eternity. (Revelation 5:13,14). (This picture was taken on a lovely September long drive with my dad)
 Southwest of the bog...It was quiet all around me with only an occasional sound from the wind or a yelp from the herons which I'd come to see. Bundled up in layers of clothes along with water boots, I turned off my iphone as to not disturb nature. I watched and waited, hoping to see the dance of the great blue herons mating. I saw one pick up a branch from a nest, drop it, then pick up another one and fly off.  Herons and egrets present sticks to the one that tickles their fancy during courtship and nesting. It’s like a man bringing a woman flowers...the sticks are gifts and a show of affection. Herons don’t mate for life so this is a yearly ceremony. I’m eager to see it in full display. I thought about my life today and said aloud, “I cannot believe it.” How blessed I am. I reflected over how time flies and the gentleness and grace of God. Experience and age changes us but He is the conductor of life's orchestra: the beginning and the end. I said again out loud, “ I never thought I’d see and do the things I’ve been privileged to see and do these past few years. I never even imagined it.” I’ve been immeasurably showered over by my husband’s generosity in allowing me to pursue the things I feel passionate about. I hardly ever put down my camera and I thrive on crazy abstract adventures, especially on rivers and in the woods. I am not well liked by most but to my husband I know I am his whole world. This is a delicate and sacred knowledge and my own heart is full of flowers every day. Many years of my own life were about survival. They were unstable years, stained with much sin that haunted me with deep sorrow. For years I cried because I knew that as a mother of three children I had not had the wisdom or strength to give them what they deserved. It was only when I met my husband that he provided a sanctuary and a home. Together we gave them our best, together we sought the Lord, and together we attempted to fill their brains with His truth before they left our home. In a way it was a crash course in parenting and priorities as we worked to make up for lost time. I turned away from friendships then so that I could look to God alone, ignoring others' opinions about right and wrong. I needed time to work through all the feebleness and the grandiose, “there are many truths” mindsets which are so pervasive in today's society. I did have friends who I loved and adored. It was they that helped me to get by many tragic crossroads in my life. For that I will always smile when I think about them. I found, though that I didn’t want their truths I wanted “THE truth.” I spent several years reading the Bible word by word, line by line, verse and chapter by chapter, book by book,(I still do). I also studied doctrine, theology, church history, cults, progressivism, Catholicism, dispensation, Calvinism and the likes. Name it, I’ve likely studied it. I discovered that to be an intellectual one does not have to be an academic. “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” 2 Timothy 2:15 Though I continue to examine the Bible, I also have entrenched myself to nature and Gods creation. I find it fascinating. I recall thinking last year as I was embedded with Canada geese, how anyone could possibly believe in evolution. Evolution is about evolving but geese are practically perfect. Herons, on the other hand are predators and they look like dinosaurs. Sarcastically, I wonder if that’s why so many people like them. I like them too. They’re beautiful, graceful and like all things, they are Gods handiwork. I know I’ll learn something and I am looking forward to that.   "Only one who has learned much can fully appreciate his ignorance. He knows so well the limits of his knowledge and how much lies waiting to be learned." Louis L'Amour There was a wet snow falling on me as I stood high on the rocks along the bank of the river. Earlier I had been to a sandwich shop and found out from a fisherman that they were putting up the nets to catch the alewives. For some reason I thought they did that in May, not in April. My curiosity was peeked and I drove over to walk the paths high above the water with my camera around my neck and protectively tucked into my coat. I am not a people person but I have a longing to learn new things. Gaining knowledge of something drives me, I think that is why I love the outdoors and wildlife so much. As I stood watching, I thought to myself "Who in their right mind would stand in the cold and be this excited?" I glanced up the river and saw two fishermen hanging nets. They were dressed like lobsterman in boots, hats and warm clothing. It was very interesting to me to see how much work it was for them to hang and secure their equipment. Mind you it was wet, overcast, and snowing. To the left of me I heard some younger boys come down another path. They were carrying small hand held nets, smoking cigarettes and dressed in jeans, unzipped jackets, baseball hats, and all weather boots. They put down their gear and came my way. After a nice conversation they informed me that they were fishing "blind." Which meant they couldnt see the fish. Apparently they drag their hand held nets in and out of the water to get whatever they can catch. I asked them questions. They explained that the alewives run mostly during high tide. The fishermen usually come to gather their haul during low tide. Sometimes they stay throughout the day, checking and adjusting their gear. After they left I kneeled down on a rock and drew my camera out, using it like binoculars. I focused up and down the river. It was pretty cool taking a closer look at all the netting on both sides of the banks. I felt wound up with anticipation, imaging how the river anglers must be feeling too, preparing for their season. It's a tough way to make a living. In a way it's an honor for me to witness, as the wife of a seafaring husband. Like my husband, these men work hard, they likely sacrifice long hours to get the job done. Like my husband who is an engineer, these fishermen work with their hands. There is no glory and no glamour. It's dirty, it's messy, and it requires concentration and quick thinking. I so admire those who I like to say are, "working for a living." Gutsy !!!  When I first started doing photography I took pictures of everything. I practiced the fundamentals (I still do) of sunsets, lighthouse sunrises, sea smoke, landscape, action, wildlife, and people. You name it I played with my camera in many environments just to learn. ( I still do) Eventually I started paying attention to myself so that I could “be in touch” with what I really enjoyed, what was I passionate about, what did I get excited about? I began to narrow that down and ...today I mostly do only what I love to do. I have found that it is important for me to be excited about the process. It’s personal… I try never to lose sight of that. I am a loner to extremes. Networking is not my “thing” although I am told over and over again how important that is??? I spend a tremendous amount of time outside. It is not an exaggeration to say I am outside 4-5 days a week in all weather for 5-10 hours at a stretch. I track in the woods and on rivers sitting quietly and observing for hours. I’ve been chased by fisher cats and carry pepper spray, especially in the spring. (I am quite concerned about bears right now.) When I need a break I head to a city to “get away” from everything and play with my version of street photography. Yesterday I traveled west and ended up in the woods and river quite some distance from our house. It was a great day. I was in solitude, I was surprised by nature, I observed, learned, and captured images that fuel my love for photography and the lifestyle I’m so blessed to enjoy.
 The leaves not yet red, orange, nor yellow. I sit silently watching and barely moving as the colors seem like they're about to burst! The air smells different and the light in the sky reflects a gentle haze on the treetops. My heart waits in anticipation of barnyard animals and fairground cotton candy, fries, and gooey sandwiches. Oxen pulls, sheep shearing and funny chickens are all coming my way. The river nearby flows and flowers along the way are beginning to turn rusty and brown. Overhead the sound of summer birds grows faint... Like some good "ole" fashion handclapping gospel music in the background September's amber glow gleans a little bit of sorrow, remembrance, and hope...  William W. Webster &Family get ready for the "Big E"  For behold, I create Jerusalem for rejoicing And her people for gladness -Isaiah 65:18 Overlooking the CityDavid.jpg  In my own studies, I have done some in depth research on most of the Jewish priesthoods. I have very strong viewpoints about this subject. I am aware of the political persuasion&influence in Israel by the Orthodoxy Hasidic sect of Judaism, which took hold&inserted its own brand of legalism, righteousness&peity in their society. Like the days of Jesus when the Sadducees&Phaisees comprised the ruling class, so it is today with the Hasidic authoritative impact. I find them fascinating to study, watch and talk to, but with all due respect my theorem position always stands on biblical doctrine. Therefore, only the Jewish priesthood of eternal value is the Leviticus sect. I recall having this discussion with a scholar who happily declared that, "...there is no such thing today as the Levites priestly function and that there are none..." Hmmm...perhaps he should go to Israel and walk the Kotel Tunnel. God is at work.  The first camera I gave any thought to buying was a SONY point and shoot. It cost us $279.00 and we bought it to have something to take with us to Israel. Excerpt from my book When It's All Said & Done "I cannot begin to express the awe of this trip. Dave, Nate&I bonded in a way that only those who love God&His word can identify with. We stayed in Tel Aviv, at the Park Plaza Orchard, on the beach. We took daily trips from this point of origin, returning at night. We bicycled to Old Jaffa, traveled to the Jordan River, saw Meggiddo, walked the old cities of Jesus's day, gazed at Old Jerusalem from the Mt of Olives, cried at the Garden of Gethsemane, stood on Calvary, witnessed the place of Christ's tomb, climped the stairs to the Rotunda, took pictures of the Chapel of the Franks, toured the Kotel Tunnel, bowed&prayed near the supposed place of the Arc of the Covenant."  Old Jerusalem from The Mount of Olives "We talked to Leviticus Priests, covered our heads at the Western Wall& Old City, strolled&smelled the aroma of the Cotton Merchants Market. We were stopped at the entrance of the Dome of the Rock by gun toting guards, soaked in the Negev Desert&the Dead Sea. We toured Masada&the West Bank, went to Haifa, Mount Carmel, Caesarea, and walked the Crusader underground city&the grand gothic Knights Hall. We saw the Roman Theater&aqueducts, Herold's palace, and saw the beauty of Rash Hanikra, along the Lebanon-Israeli border. We talked, and visited with people, whose lives&personal stories were magnificent. It was extraordinary&unbelievable. We cried, laughed&pinched ourselves at this blessing of a trip. It was intense, historical& deeply profound for all three of us."
Dignity
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I will never forget the day that it all began. My husband mentioned that a red cardinal had just crossed our yard. As I looked I grabbed my camera and snuck around the house. The cardinal was nowhere to be seen. I stood waiting when I noticed motion in front of our porch in the bushes. Just then the cardinal flew out. I looked and saw nothing but I was curious as to why he had been in them. I then entered our porch and as I looked through the window, there it was just 2 feet away… a nest with 4 fledgling cardinals. I was smitten immediately! The next 48 hours changed my entire summer.
I know more about birds today than I ever have. I have watched observed and gotten lost in them. In some ways I feel it has been a gift. With the world on fire and so much to be genuinely concerned about this dear hobby of bird watching has brought me solitude. It has given me an opportunity to practice and learn more on my camera, to visit and talk to people along the way and to have a sense of peace in spite of all the tribulation.
One day as I thought about how I was feeling, I thought this must be how a fisherman feels, lost in the water, the quiet, the reflections and the distant sound of wildlife. I thought about how I had never just done something because I enjoyed it. I thought how I hadn’t really taken the time to observe God’s creation, to ponder how nature works, lives and responds to His environment. I always sort of shrugged my shoulders at “those” nature people. Many who I have visited with were not Christians, but as a Christian I should more fully embrace what He has given us...that which He created in the world. My bird watching has caused me to consider the sun, sky, ocean, rivers, thunder, lightning and the seasons. I have reflected on the book of Genesis and how marvelous Eden must have been and how again in the future heaven will knock our socks off…Are there socks in heaven?
Did you know that some male birds make several nests and then take the female around to pick the one that suits her fancy? Or that many birds return year after year to the same familiar place? A person can actually plan and prepare for their arrival by adding to the garden and yard things that bring them pleasure. Did you know that yard birds are territorial and oust other birds from a birdhouse or nesting place? They defend their nest and fledglings from predators.
In our yard I observed that when birds are born many others gather around, chirp and get excited. They do the same thing when babies are ready to leave the nest. All at once there is a gathered flock, making all kinds of noise and letting everyone know…"Look out they’re ready to fly!"
It’s as though the local bird kingdom is proud and showing off…it is simple charming!
Barbie
One day as I thought about how I was feeling, I thought this must be how a fisherman feels, lost in the water, the quiet, the reflections and the distant sound of wildlife. I thought about how I had never just done something because I enjoyed it. I thought how I hadn’t really taken the time to observe God’s creation, to ponder how nature works, lives and responds to His environment. I always sort of shrugged my shoulders at “those” nature people. Many who I have visited with were not Christians, but as a Christian I should more fully embrace what He has given us...that which He created in the world. My bird watching has caused me to consider the sun, sky, ocean, rivers, thunder, lightning and the seasons. I have reflected on the book of Genesis and how marvelous Eden must have been and how again in the future heaven will knock our socks off…Are there socks in heaven?
Did you know that some male birds make several nests and then take the female around to pick the one that suits her fancy? Or that many birds return year after year to the same familiar place? A person can actually plan and prepare for their arrival by adding to the garden and yard things that bring them pleasure. Did you know that yard birds are territorial and oust other birds from a birdhouse or nesting place? They defend their nest and fledglings from predators.
In our yard I observed that when birds are born many others gather around, chirp and get excited. They do the same thing when babies are ready to leave the nest. All at once there is a gathered flock, making all kinds of noise and letting everyone know…"Look out they’re ready to fly!"
It’s as though the local bird kingdom is proud and showing off…it is simple charming!
Barbie
Part 1 My summer, photography and wildlife…GoneFishin
There is much to be said about being a photographer or a hobbyist of camera clicking. When taken seriously, both of these pursuits evoke emotion and passion. I have watched others who love the craft... and yes it is a craft. Like any art it involves time, energy, detail, understanding, and devotion. It is one thing to take a picture, it is quite another when your camera becomes a part of you. “To see” in everything a story, a color, a movement or a reflection is somewhat obsessive and often times disappointing. It is very hard to capture in a picture what the eye witnesses. It is intrinsically connected to the old adage, “stop and smell the roses” over and over again.
Doing photography is a commitment and a challenge. It is more than getting a picture. Discerning what your camera can do and how to use it is not an easy learning curve. For a person like myself, who is a bit slow on recall, I find I must return regularly to the guide and to question and ponder all the perplexing combinations of possibilities. It took me months to mentally coordinate what an f-stop, shutter speed, iso and exposure were. Coordinating and utilizing them when the time comes is quite another thing.
I look at the work of others and find myself comparing. At times I scream at over edits and PhotoShop fakery. I do feel there is a certain medium both professionally and personally for over edits, but really? As a lover of reality I would like to see pure work in the realm of genuine mediums.(minimum edites) I’d like to see work that shouts “Hoorah I did it!”
What do I mean by that? I like to see a work in which I know as a photographer what it took… When I look at your work I would like to take myself to what was going through your mind as you sat for hours, walked or hiked , having lugged your camera and equipment, while purposefully settling into an environment, if only in your yard. It can be a painstaking process resulting in the “joy” of the beholder. I like to consider how chaotic, brazen or beautiful the day or nighttime was as you pointed your lens and adjusted your settings. I like to contemplate what you must have felt when you uploaded your photos to your computer, only to be disappointed or thrilled with the end results. I don’t want to waste my time wondering how you edited them, I want to be taken back to the purpose of all of it...
p-h-o-t-o-g-r-a-p-h-y
Doing photography is a commitment and a challenge. It is more than getting a picture. Discerning what your camera can do and how to use it is not an easy learning curve. For a person like myself, who is a bit slow on recall, I find I must return regularly to the guide and to question and ponder all the perplexing combinations of possibilities. It took me months to mentally coordinate what an f-stop, shutter speed, iso and exposure were. Coordinating and utilizing them when the time comes is quite another thing.
I look at the work of others and find myself comparing. At times I scream at over edits and PhotoShop fakery. I do feel there is a certain medium both professionally and personally for over edits, but really? As a lover of reality I would like to see pure work in the realm of genuine mediums.(minimum edites) I’d like to see work that shouts “Hoorah I did it!”
What do I mean by that? I like to see a work in which I know as a photographer what it took… When I look at your work I would like to take myself to what was going through your mind as you sat for hours, walked or hiked , having lugged your camera and equipment, while purposefully settling into an environment, if only in your yard. It can be a painstaking process resulting in the “joy” of the beholder. I like to consider how chaotic, brazen or beautiful the day or nighttime was as you pointed your lens and adjusted your settings. I like to contemplate what you must have felt when you uploaded your photos to your computer, only to be disappointed or thrilled with the end results. I don’t want to waste my time wondering how you edited them, I want to be taken back to the purpose of all of it...
p-h-o-t-o-g-r-a-p-h-y
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I have 2 stories which I’d like to relate to you. The first was on July 4rth this year. I was taking pictures of the fireworks and stood near some ladies when a conversation was struck up. The ladies were mother and daughter; they had known my mom who passed away the year before. I was intentionally set up at the school she had taught at and right beside the window to her old classroom. (I hold my memories of mom close to my heart when I am taking pictures.) One lady talked to me about her young son who had been one of mom’s students. She enthusiastically told me all about her son and his photography and videos. She told me how he had used Twitter and hash tagged his work to National Geographic. Apparently his work was so good that they want him to come and see them once he is older. He is now 17. I was excited for her and for her son, what great work he must be doing! Then she started to tell me how she has been with him in the wilderness as he “stages” his work!
Say it isn’t so!
Right then and there I had a flashback to when I first discovered that Saturday night wresting tv matches were fake…Devastated! "Oh," I thought, "please, please, please when I look at National Geo let me not see staging!" I’m not saying they do, as I really feel they are true to their philosophical boundaries. But still she put a bug in my ear that left my mouth wide open. As I tried not to show my feelings... it was hard to maintain my appreciation for her sons work. Staging wildlife? Who does that? What about all the books that talk about the rule of thirds, composition and lighting?
Say it isn’t so!
Right then and there I had a flashback to when I first discovered that Saturday night wresting tv matches were fake…Devastated! "Oh," I thought, "please, please, please when I look at National Geo let me not see staging!" I’m not saying they do, as I really feel they are true to their philosophical boundaries. But still she put a bug in my ear that left my mouth wide open. As I tried not to show my feelings... it was hard to maintain my appreciation for her sons work. Staging wildlife? Who does that? What about all the books that talk about the rule of thirds, composition and lighting?
Scarborough Marsh Scarborough,Maine
The second story happened just this week. I had been in the marsh in very wet and buggy conditions. I watched for hours hoping that the shy white egret youngsters would come near me so that I might capture a picture. Never having shot in these conditions with strong lighting, green as green can be, wetland grass and white birds I was nervous. Plus I had forgotten a filter sunglass lens. (I got eaten alive since I also forgot bug juice.) After I loaded up my pictures and landed on a few that I thought were ok, I took them to the neighborhood printers. This printer happens to have top notch equipment,(Forest Ave CyberCopy.) I asked them to enlarge my photos on 11’17’ 80 pound glossy poster paper. I loved the results. The paper and image of my pictures looked more like paintings and the ink and color were superb. Later that day, having lost my battery charger, I went to the Photography Shop where I buy my lens and supplies. I brought in my pictures to show them, there were around eight of them. After a bit, I noticed that there wasn't an overabundance of impression on the sales clerks' behalf. Two gathered round, one questioned my edit job (they are big on PhotoShop and classes). He didn’t like the paper it was printed on (they use real photography paper) and have I considered printing my own? They were having a great sale on a printer.
No “atta boy” at this stop. All I could think was, "… come on ...how about a little encouragement...something? I’ve spent a small fortune here."
This is is why I am not a joiner of groups or communities, I'm always suspicious. I like the freedom to do my own thing, but occasionally I’d like some input. Though I am not even close to being a feminist I’m thinking maybe real girls (I am all of 4’11’ and 110 pounds) don’t crawl through the swap to take pictures and commune with wildlife?
You have to love it!
No “atta boy” at this stop. All I could think was, "… come on ...how about a little encouragement...something? I’ve spent a small fortune here."
This is is why I am not a joiner of groups or communities, I'm always suspicious. I like the freedom to do my own thing, but occasionally I’d like some input. Though I am not even close to being a feminist I’m thinking maybe real girls (I am all of 4’11’ and 110 pounds) don’t crawl through the swap to take pictures and commune with wildlife?
You have to love it!
“This is a heretic.”
The story behind one of my favorite heroes of the faith, John Hus, is a great example of what our founding fathers had in mind when they penned The First Amendment to the Constitution.
John Hus, a Bohemian, became acquainted with the Bible translation of John Wycliffe in the latter Middle Ages. John Wycliffe, the English zealot who studied at the University of Oxford, felt rightly that the Bible, not the Church of Rome, should be the only rule of faith. He took it upon himself to work diligently at translating this masterpiece into English so that “the people” would be able to read it. At that time the Bible was written in Latin and the general population, notwithstanding the clergy, wasn’t able to freely read, discern or participate in “the written word.” The people were at the mercy of the Church, The Pontiff and clergy in matters of the faith. If the ruling class within the church deemed it so, then so be it.
Bear in mind that at that time, the church was the government. To speak out against either was punishable, often by a cruel death. We would be wise to recall the Middle Ages, The Inquisitions and the murders which proceeded our founding fathers’ arrival to America.
John Hus enthusiastically embraced the English Bible and the concepts put forth by John Wycliffe. Hus was a bold reformer and preached tirelessly. He predates Martin Luther and John Calvin as a brave Christian soul who stood face to face against the powers of the government, emperor and papacy. For his boldness he was rendered heretical and was burned at the stake.
“Renounce your error,” shouted the Duke of Bavaria.
“I have taught no error. The truth I will seal with my blood, ”replied John Hus.
“Burn him.”
It is in remembrance of the martyrs who stood up to the marriage and unrestrained control of church and state throughout Europe that our founding fathers rightly drafted our US constitution to include the fundamental predated Gettysburg concept, “by the people for the people.”
The birth of our US constitution included the birth of a democracy; a government in which the people take part in the decision making process to avoid an overreach of governing authority. The First Amendment of The United States Constitution was solely to protect us from federal government control.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
In stating that “congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,” the Constitution upholds that the Federal government has no right to impose a national religion on its citizens, nor involve itself in states or individual religious freedom (including freedom of worship). That said, the US Supreme Court has, at times, ruled against “practices” deemed extreme, protecting the belief while condemning a practice. Some examples of this would be monogamy, deviant sexual behavior or satanic rituals. Yet, on a federal level the foundational right is to not “prohibit the free exercise of religion, speech or peaceable assembly thereof.”
I have pondered if those who decry an extreme view of “separation of church and state” are aware of the fact that these words are not found in the Federal Constitution but have their beginnings elsewhere. Thomas Jefferson originally referred to “the walls of separation of church and state” when addressing the Danbury Baptist in Connecticut, who were a bit bothered by their Congregationalist brethrens. The Congregationalists were the established church at the time, and while the Baptist understood autonomy in states’ rights, they were seeking a sympathetic ear in Jefferson. As they expressed to Jefferson, “national government cannot destroy the laws of each state; but our hopes are strong that the sentiments of our beloved president…will shine and prevail through all the states and all the world, till hierarchy and tyranny be destroyed from the earth.”
Jefferson replied acknowledging that a wall of separation between church and state existed at the federal level, assuring the Baptist the federal government would not interfere with matters of the church. He was in hopes that this would be philosophically adopted at the state level too. Jefferson had helped Virginia by drafting their Religious Freedom Act in 1786 after the US Constitution of 1776. Virginia declared that people would have a right to worship as they pleased, including the freedom to not worship. The authority over religious matters rested with the states as to limit the power of the federal government.
His sentiments were not to abolish religion or to hide it in the public square, but to uphold denominational religious freedom from federal and state interference. In his writing of the Virginia Religious Freedom Act, Jefferson’s first words were “Almighty God hath created the mind free.” It was unfathomable to think different church denominations couldn’t worship in federal executive office buildings at that time.
Additionally, on or about 1947 the Supreme Court began to apply the Federal First Amendment or “establishment clause” … “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,” in the context of “separation of church and state.”
They overrode states’ rights and interjected language not fixed within the US Federal Constitution. The Supreme Court has interjected their interpretation out of context to its original historical intent. Their rulings are “religious freedom gone amuck.” It is the Supreme Court’s rulings which have destabilized the balance of thoughtful and rational people to include removal of the Ten Commandments or religious symbols’ from public areas and courts, not allowing prayer at graduations, or a moment of silence within a school classroom.
Like the Darwinian Theory that is treated as fact, The Doctrine of Separation of Church and State is wrongly treated as law.
It is not law. It is merely a doctrine up for debate. How easily an ignorant person is fooled…Theory and doctrine are not facts and laws.
The wall of separation of church and state is not a double edged sword with equal leanings, it is a sword which behooves the government to obey so that the people are entitled to freedom of liberty, religion and worship. The strong-arm of the United States government isn’t to eliminate or control freedom it doesn’t like in the name of political expediency. It is similar to the “right to bear arms.” The intent of the constitution was not for the government, but for the people against tyranny.
Just as Hus and Wycliffe and the many reformers of Europe wanted religious freedom, so did many of those who had now had established their lives here in the New World. Freedom of religion or speech in the United States also means freedom from persecution. It is an inalienable God given right. It makes us who we are as a nation.
The story behind one of my favorite heroes of the faith, John Hus, is a great example of what our founding fathers had in mind when they penned The First Amendment to the Constitution.
John Hus, a Bohemian, became acquainted with the Bible translation of John Wycliffe in the latter Middle Ages. John Wycliffe, the English zealot who studied at the University of Oxford, felt rightly that the Bible, not the Church of Rome, should be the only rule of faith. He took it upon himself to work diligently at translating this masterpiece into English so that “the people” would be able to read it. At that time the Bible was written in Latin and the general population, notwithstanding the clergy, wasn’t able to freely read, discern or participate in “the written word.” The people were at the mercy of the Church, The Pontiff and clergy in matters of the faith. If the ruling class within the church deemed it so, then so be it.
Bear in mind that at that time, the church was the government. To speak out against either was punishable, often by a cruel death. We would be wise to recall the Middle Ages, The Inquisitions and the murders which proceeded our founding fathers’ arrival to America.
John Hus enthusiastically embraced the English Bible and the concepts put forth by John Wycliffe. Hus was a bold reformer and preached tirelessly. He predates Martin Luther and John Calvin as a brave Christian soul who stood face to face against the powers of the government, emperor and papacy. For his boldness he was rendered heretical and was burned at the stake.
“Renounce your error,” shouted the Duke of Bavaria.
“I have taught no error. The truth I will seal with my blood, ”replied John Hus.
“Burn him.”
It is in remembrance of the martyrs who stood up to the marriage and unrestrained control of church and state throughout Europe that our founding fathers rightly drafted our US constitution to include the fundamental predated Gettysburg concept, “by the people for the people.”
The birth of our US constitution included the birth of a democracy; a government in which the people take part in the decision making process to avoid an overreach of governing authority. The First Amendment of The United States Constitution was solely to protect us from federal government control.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
In stating that “congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,” the Constitution upholds that the Federal government has no right to impose a national religion on its citizens, nor involve itself in states or individual religious freedom (including freedom of worship). That said, the US Supreme Court has, at times, ruled against “practices” deemed extreme, protecting the belief while condemning a practice. Some examples of this would be monogamy, deviant sexual behavior or satanic rituals. Yet, on a federal level the foundational right is to not “prohibit the free exercise of religion, speech or peaceable assembly thereof.”
I have pondered if those who decry an extreme view of “separation of church and state” are aware of the fact that these words are not found in the Federal Constitution but have their beginnings elsewhere. Thomas Jefferson originally referred to “the walls of separation of church and state” when addressing the Danbury Baptist in Connecticut, who were a bit bothered by their Congregationalist brethrens. The Congregationalists were the established church at the time, and while the Baptist understood autonomy in states’ rights, they were seeking a sympathetic ear in Jefferson. As they expressed to Jefferson, “national government cannot destroy the laws of each state; but our hopes are strong that the sentiments of our beloved president…will shine and prevail through all the states and all the world, till hierarchy and tyranny be destroyed from the earth.”
Jefferson replied acknowledging that a wall of separation between church and state existed at the federal level, assuring the Baptist the federal government would not interfere with matters of the church. He was in hopes that this would be philosophically adopted at the state level too. Jefferson had helped Virginia by drafting their Religious Freedom Act in 1786 after the US Constitution of 1776. Virginia declared that people would have a right to worship as they pleased, including the freedom to not worship. The authority over religious matters rested with the states as to limit the power of the federal government.
His sentiments were not to abolish religion or to hide it in the public square, but to uphold denominational religious freedom from federal and state interference. In his writing of the Virginia Religious Freedom Act, Jefferson’s first words were “Almighty God hath created the mind free.” It was unfathomable to think different church denominations couldn’t worship in federal executive office buildings at that time.
Additionally, on or about 1947 the Supreme Court began to apply the Federal First Amendment or “establishment clause” … “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,” in the context of “separation of church and state.”
They overrode states’ rights and interjected language not fixed within the US Federal Constitution. The Supreme Court has interjected their interpretation out of context to its original historical intent. Their rulings are “religious freedom gone amuck.” It is the Supreme Court’s rulings which have destabilized the balance of thoughtful and rational people to include removal of the Ten Commandments or religious symbols’ from public areas and courts, not allowing prayer at graduations, or a moment of silence within a school classroom.
Like the Darwinian Theory that is treated as fact, The Doctrine of Separation of Church and State is wrongly treated as law.
It is not law. It is merely a doctrine up for debate. How easily an ignorant person is fooled…Theory and doctrine are not facts and laws.
The wall of separation of church and state is not a double edged sword with equal leanings, it is a sword which behooves the government to obey so that the people are entitled to freedom of liberty, religion and worship. The strong-arm of the United States government isn’t to eliminate or control freedom it doesn’t like in the name of political expediency. It is similar to the “right to bear arms.” The intent of the constitution was not for the government, but for the people against tyranny.
Just as Hus and Wycliffe and the many reformers of Europe wanted religious freedom, so did many of those who had now had established their lives here in the New World. Freedom of religion or speech in the United States also means freedom from persecution. It is an inalienable God given right. It makes us who we are as a nation.
A friend on one of my social networking sites recently posted this question, “How do you handle criticism?”
I have been pondering this question over and over again, since I find it isn’t a simple one to answer. It is difficult to assess this question honestly without being hypocritical.
Criticism: noun
the act of passing judgment as to the merits of anything.
the act of passing severe judgment; censure; faultfinding.
Synonyms: assessment, judgment, evaluation, comment, critique
This same friend is honest to a fault, which I happen to love. For instance, my husband once shared his homemade pasta sauce with her and then requested her opinion. Both have deep roots in their Italian heritage. Her evaluation was important to him. What he got was straight up criticism. He loved it, and he took it to heart, analyzing his concoction, and making adjustments. This was personal to him, and he wanted to improve on his recipe.
I think the highest form of criticism today, while not in the dictionary findings, is silence. In today’s social media "techie" world, ignoring a person or finding what they have to say irrelevant and unimportant is silent criticism.
I might also add that because of the way we communicate today via social networking, there is a sad thread of narcissism and personal need for ongoing public attention and ‘likes.’ Don’t get me wrong. I love technology and the medium of modern day communication available at our finger tips. I really enjoy it…but it can be hazardous to our mental wellbeing if we don’t take the time to be introspective and wise.
Old fashioned criticism is something that happens when we fellowship in person with others. It should happen naturally, and without much thought. But the world has become so politically charged that most often one cannot have honest critical dialog without someone’s feelings being trampled on. Been there... been hurt, too. What are we to do? Talk about the dogs, cats and weather, ad nauseam?
Opinions are personal, and people have a right to them. Remember free speech? What I find difficult is when someone opines about something in which they know little to nothing about, yet they think they do. Therefore I am often critical in my heart and, yes, in my words…in my analysis and evaluation with that type of conversation.
But I’ve also been silent.
In the social networking arena I am also silent toward those who have thrown things out into the world in which I may disagree with. So it is with those who disagree with me. We become irrelevant and unimportant except in the minds of those who idolize us and/or agree with us. I have a few dear friends on FB with whom we each agree to disagree with on many things. Yet, together we rejoice in accomplishments or show compassion during difficult times, I really appreciate their integrity.
There are also people whom I’ve known, for what seems a lifetime, who are silent with me but not with others. When I began to take social networking personally, this started to tug at my conscience.
I am active on three different social media sites. Facebook originally got my attention because I had been in youth ministry and I wanted to stay in contact with the teens. Over time that changed and I began to accept other '#socalledfriends.’ I additionally began using Twitter several months ago because I was politically frustrated and wanted to catch up on how others might be feeling. I wanted what I have received from Twitter; a world of communication and shared news. I really enjoy Twitter and the people I follow. I am also a member of a Christian social network site which is very satisfying in terms of Christian friendships and discernment. It is a sight where people are not silent, since we all share the same concerns about the state of the Christian world, and the open decline of Biblical truths, particularly within so-called traditionally Bible believing denominations. We don’t ignore one another, yet there is open criticism and confrontation.
So back to the question “How do you (me) handle criticism?” I am accustomed to it. I am also accustomed to being critical. I have a debrief partner, he is my husband. I have a Bible and I am dependent on God. I seek Him in others criticism and I seek Him when I have been critical towards others. I am not a communitarian, seeking the greater good or common ground. I am a Christian seeking His approval above all else. Like my mother, I fear the Lord in a Godly way, understanding that one day I will stand before Him. He will have the final word, good or bad. I can only do what I believe to be right and God honoring.
I am not emotionally immune to criticism, but I have grown wiser at separating my personal feelings and fixing my eyes on my priority. One cannot be all things to all people. Being true to my convictions and beliefs has to be more important than the unfavorable judgment of others.
And I’m more than ok with that.
Barbie
I have been pondering this question over and over again, since I find it isn’t a simple one to answer. It is difficult to assess this question honestly without being hypocritical.
Criticism: noun
the act of passing judgment as to the merits of anything.
the act of passing severe judgment; censure; faultfinding.
Synonyms: assessment, judgment, evaluation, comment, critique
This same friend is honest to a fault, which I happen to love. For instance, my husband once shared his homemade pasta sauce with her and then requested her opinion. Both have deep roots in their Italian heritage. Her evaluation was important to him. What he got was straight up criticism. He loved it, and he took it to heart, analyzing his concoction, and making adjustments. This was personal to him, and he wanted to improve on his recipe.
I think the highest form of criticism today, while not in the dictionary findings, is silence. In today’s social media "techie" world, ignoring a person or finding what they have to say irrelevant and unimportant is silent criticism.
I might also add that because of the way we communicate today via social networking, there is a sad thread of narcissism and personal need for ongoing public attention and ‘likes.’ Don’t get me wrong. I love technology and the medium of modern day communication available at our finger tips. I really enjoy it…but it can be hazardous to our mental wellbeing if we don’t take the time to be introspective and wise.
Old fashioned criticism is something that happens when we fellowship in person with others. It should happen naturally, and without much thought. But the world has become so politically charged that most often one cannot have honest critical dialog without someone’s feelings being trampled on. Been there... been hurt, too. What are we to do? Talk about the dogs, cats and weather, ad nauseam?
Opinions are personal, and people have a right to them. Remember free speech? What I find difficult is when someone opines about something in which they know little to nothing about, yet they think they do. Therefore I am often critical in my heart and, yes, in my words…in my analysis and evaluation with that type of conversation.
But I’ve also been silent.
In the social networking arena I am also silent toward those who have thrown things out into the world in which I may disagree with. So it is with those who disagree with me. We become irrelevant and unimportant except in the minds of those who idolize us and/or agree with us. I have a few dear friends on FB with whom we each agree to disagree with on many things. Yet, together we rejoice in accomplishments or show compassion during difficult times, I really appreciate their integrity.
There are also people whom I’ve known, for what seems a lifetime, who are silent with me but not with others. When I began to take social networking personally, this started to tug at my conscience.
I am active on three different social media sites. Facebook originally got my attention because I had been in youth ministry and I wanted to stay in contact with the teens. Over time that changed and I began to accept other '#socalledfriends.’ I additionally began using Twitter several months ago because I was politically frustrated and wanted to catch up on how others might be feeling. I wanted what I have received from Twitter; a world of communication and shared news. I really enjoy Twitter and the people I follow. I am also a member of a Christian social network site which is very satisfying in terms of Christian friendships and discernment. It is a sight where people are not silent, since we all share the same concerns about the state of the Christian world, and the open decline of Biblical truths, particularly within so-called traditionally Bible believing denominations. We don’t ignore one another, yet there is open criticism and confrontation.
So back to the question “How do you (me) handle criticism?” I am accustomed to it. I am also accustomed to being critical. I have a debrief partner, he is my husband. I have a Bible and I am dependent on God. I seek Him in others criticism and I seek Him when I have been critical towards others. I am not a communitarian, seeking the greater good or common ground. I am a Christian seeking His approval above all else. Like my mother, I fear the Lord in a Godly way, understanding that one day I will stand before Him. He will have the final word, good or bad. I can only do what I believe to be right and God honoring.
I am not emotionally immune to criticism, but I have grown wiser at separating my personal feelings and fixing my eyes on my priority. One cannot be all things to all people. Being true to my convictions and beliefs has to be more important than the unfavorable judgment of others.
And I’m more than ok with that.
Barbie
Waterfront: mybourdain2
When I originally moved to Portland, Maine in the late 70’s I fell in love with the place. I had grown up in Caribou, Maine…far from the ocean, and although I still have good childhood memories of Caribou, moving to Portland was quite a thrill. I remember driving all around with new found friends along roads that, at every corner, exposed views that would take my breath away. I quickly grew accustomed to the docks, fisherman and local haunts. While I loved (and still do), driving the spectacular roads with views and breaking waves off the rocky ocean landscape, I enjoy being on foot the most.
I love to walk ocean city streets. I love the smell, the colors, the tattered look of lobster cages, ropes dangling from boats, and the determined, hardworking demeanor of those who make a living on the waterfront. I have a fondness for the worn down buildings and restaurants. I love the hustle of the islanders coming off the ferries on the “mainland” and heading to their offices and up town to put in their various days of work.
I like the brick and mortal of the once infested unpopular waterfront districts, now lined with rustic shops and pricey tourist memorabilia. I love the smell of competing fancy coffee, doughnut, and cookie stores along with the near hits that gawking tourists almost always seem to experience at the hands of Commercial Street traffic or over- zealous skateboarders. I love street vendors, the thin alleyways, the décor and hippy dippy clothing and consignment retail purchases. I adore the antique and brass signs, misplaced and crooked on the window arches.
I cannot imagine ever living away from the ocean. To me, every single waterfront is a gateway to the world, whether you ever go anywhere. The waterfront is the place stories and poems are written about. It is a place of enchantment, wonder, and lingering mystery.
Barbie
And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered in one place, and let the dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called ‘seas.” And God saw that it was good.
Genesis 1:9-10
I love to walk ocean city streets. I love the smell, the colors, the tattered look of lobster cages, ropes dangling from boats, and the determined, hardworking demeanor of those who make a living on the waterfront. I have a fondness for the worn down buildings and restaurants. I love the hustle of the islanders coming off the ferries on the “mainland” and heading to their offices and up town to put in their various days of work.
I like the brick and mortal of the once infested unpopular waterfront districts, now lined with rustic shops and pricey tourist memorabilia. I love the smell of competing fancy coffee, doughnut, and cookie stores along with the near hits that gawking tourists almost always seem to experience at the hands of Commercial Street traffic or over- zealous skateboarders. I love street vendors, the thin alleyways, the décor and hippy dippy clothing and consignment retail purchases. I adore the antique and brass signs, misplaced and crooked on the window arches.
I cannot imagine ever living away from the ocean. To me, every single waterfront is a gateway to the world, whether you ever go anywhere. The waterfront is the place stories and poems are written about. It is a place of enchantment, wonder, and lingering mystery.
Barbie
And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered in one place, and let the dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called ‘seas.” And God saw that it was good.
Genesis 1:9-10
As one of Moms caretakers I have found that my mind often wanders off, reflecting on the years before we lost her. I find myself thinking about all the signs along the way. Much of Moms stuff, packed by her, in boxes labeled, “good junk” has landed at our house. Yes, Mom marked things “good junk.” Whenever she had something that she wasn’t sure of keeping or discarding got set aside in boxes called “good junk” on the assumption that one day she would need it again. Much of that junk appears to be things she thought might be useful for a future gift for someone else.
Like my daughter, Tracy, along with myself, Mom was always on the lookout for “stuff” that she could set aside to give away at some future time. Mom was a treasure hunter. One of her plastic storage boxes contained Christmas gifts, while another had children’s gifts. A third box held childhood memories and many letters, cards and notes. Mom loved boxes. She introduced me to banana boxes, the kind you go to the grocery store to get. She liked anything that you could use to fill up, put on top of one another or use for storage. As a kindergarten teacher she collected boxes to organize with.
In looking back, I can see Mom playing with her boxes. She would go through them and reorganize. Mom spent hours in her boxes. She would line them up in her bedroom, move them around and pile them up one top of another. She’d move them into straight, orderly lines and methodically rearrange the content within them. Once done, she would begin again, stretching her mind to accomplish yet a better system. She might remove a few items and transfer them into Ziploc baggies or put a rubber band around a handful of rulers, pens and small pieces of paper, only to return them to a box yet more organized.
Imagine an early childhood kindergarten teacher with Alzheimer’s. Compulsive, repetitive, childlike…
Alzheimer’s is visual to those who are watching. The signs along the way can leave us with smiles or sadness. They each bear witness to a mind in isolated wonder.
If asked, Mom would smile and explain what she was doing. Her tasks were a total joy to her, 3 to 4 years before we lost her. Mom’s explanations were not easily understood, since she was obviously losing her language skills, but if you were lucky enough to witness her “fun," then you would just hug her as though you understood.
It wasn’t until the fall of 2011, about 18 to 17 months before we lost her that I noticed her anxiety level raise when attending to her boxes. That fall, Mom seemed to be going through all she owned in her boxes and play things, like she knew this was her last hurrah. I would watch her and attempt to help. When I’d suggest a way to do something she often rejected it. If she was overwhelmed, I would offer to take care of a box. Sometimes she would allow me to bring one home. She would silently think it out and then say that it was a good idea. Mom had boxes full of old pictures and photo albums. I think she knew they needed safe keeping. In one box I came across a beautiful picture of Mom when she was younger, but it had a tear in it. I asked Mom if I could gently tape the back so it wouldn’t get worse. Mom told me, "no." She was nervous I’d make it worse. Later, she told me to go ahead and attend to the picture with tape. It took her time to comprehend that I wanted to preserve, not harm her picture.
Mom did all this box work that fall in her front porch, right beside the living room. She had an idea about making this area “hers.”
One day, out of nowhere, Mom abruptly stopped all of her organizing. Many with Alzheimer’s suddenly just stop what they are doing. They never return to it again. It’s like watching a connection end, or a light go out…and not turn back on. Once Mom was done, she only looked back from her sitting position on the couch in the living room. She would look into the porch as though seeing something undone, which it was. Dad and I didn’t touch anything of hers that she left unfinished. We left it alone, since it was all her special belongings and it was her room. Mom could look and see herself as in a mirror as it were...she could see her boxes, her books, her knickknacks, paper pieces and notes tapped to the wall or bookshelves. Occasionally she would walk in and touch something or move it. Only simple things, not the heavy mental organizing she had loved for years…I can still see her eyes lovingly staring into her past, pulling it close to her heart.
Like my daughter, Tracy, along with myself, Mom was always on the lookout for “stuff” that she could set aside to give away at some future time. Mom was a treasure hunter. One of her plastic storage boxes contained Christmas gifts, while another had children’s gifts. A third box held childhood memories and many letters, cards and notes. Mom loved boxes. She introduced me to banana boxes, the kind you go to the grocery store to get. She liked anything that you could use to fill up, put on top of one another or use for storage. As a kindergarten teacher she collected boxes to organize with.
In looking back, I can see Mom playing with her boxes. She would go through them and reorganize. Mom spent hours in her boxes. She would line them up in her bedroom, move them around and pile them up one top of another. She’d move them into straight, orderly lines and methodically rearrange the content within them. Once done, she would begin again, stretching her mind to accomplish yet a better system. She might remove a few items and transfer them into Ziploc baggies or put a rubber band around a handful of rulers, pens and small pieces of paper, only to return them to a box yet more organized.
Imagine an early childhood kindergarten teacher with Alzheimer’s. Compulsive, repetitive, childlike…
Alzheimer’s is visual to those who are watching. The signs along the way can leave us with smiles or sadness. They each bear witness to a mind in isolated wonder.
If asked, Mom would smile and explain what she was doing. Her tasks were a total joy to her, 3 to 4 years before we lost her. Mom’s explanations were not easily understood, since she was obviously losing her language skills, but if you were lucky enough to witness her “fun," then you would just hug her as though you understood.
It wasn’t until the fall of 2011, about 18 to 17 months before we lost her that I noticed her anxiety level raise when attending to her boxes. That fall, Mom seemed to be going through all she owned in her boxes and play things, like she knew this was her last hurrah. I would watch her and attempt to help. When I’d suggest a way to do something she often rejected it. If she was overwhelmed, I would offer to take care of a box. Sometimes she would allow me to bring one home. She would silently think it out and then say that it was a good idea. Mom had boxes full of old pictures and photo albums. I think she knew they needed safe keeping. In one box I came across a beautiful picture of Mom when she was younger, but it had a tear in it. I asked Mom if I could gently tape the back so it wouldn’t get worse. Mom told me, "no." She was nervous I’d make it worse. Later, she told me to go ahead and attend to the picture with tape. It took her time to comprehend that I wanted to preserve, not harm her picture.
Mom did all this box work that fall in her front porch, right beside the living room. She had an idea about making this area “hers.”
One day, out of nowhere, Mom abruptly stopped all of her organizing. Many with Alzheimer’s suddenly just stop what they are doing. They never return to it again. It’s like watching a connection end, or a light go out…and not turn back on. Once Mom was done, she only looked back from her sitting position on the couch in the living room. She would look into the porch as though seeing something undone, which it was. Dad and I didn’t touch anything of hers that she left unfinished. We left it alone, since it was all her special belongings and it was her room. Mom could look and see herself as in a mirror as it were...she could see her boxes, her books, her knickknacks, paper pieces and notes tapped to the wall or bookshelves. Occasionally she would walk in and touch something or move it. Only simple things, not the heavy mental organizing she had loved for years…I can still see her eyes lovingly staring into her past, pulling it close to her heart.
Just Do It…
Recently someone said to me they have two gears; stop and go. She is the kind of person who goes all day long. She is organized, (that’s a quality I’d pay money for,) and she is accomplished in most of what she endeavors to do. People like her just ‘do it.'
I wrote a book. I wanted to write a book, and I did. Good, bad, indifferent, received, enjoyed or rejected, I just did it. In doing so, I came face to face with doubt, and yes, occasionally grandiosity. Mostly, I came face to face with fear.
I remember when Mom was finishing her Masters’ Degree and had to submit a paper. She called me frequently, consumed with fear. There were times she felt she just couldn’t do it. There were times when she felt that what she was writing about wasn’t good. There were times she worried about what her superiors would think concerning her finished work. Isn’t that just like us to set ourselves up in the end by allowing fear to get in our way? Mom did finish her paper, and Mom did receive her Master’s Degree.
Push on… just ‘do it.’
In writing a book, I did not know anything about how it’s done traditionally. I had no starting point in writers’ conferences, literary agents or editors. I wasn't even aware of such things or groups until I was close to finishing my book.
To this day, I have no idea how to promote or sell my book as this is an ongoing learning experience. Quite frankly a google search on the ‘how to’ of self-publishing is exhausting. I have typed self-publishing in the search engine many times, the result is 150,000,000 hits in 0.21 seconds on my computer. I find myself unable to keep up with all the directions and suggestions, who would?
I wrote a book, opened a self-publishing company and faced my fear by pushing on. I said I wanted to, therefore I prayerfully just did it.
The fear that mostly got in my way, besides not really knowing what I was doing, was the fear of rejection and the fearful need to answer my own question throughout, "why am I doing this again?" Ultimately, the fear of rejection is a matter of faith. I am already secure in Christ. Any good that comes from that is in accordance to His will , therefore rejection quickly took a back seat. I was left with, "why, again, am I doing this?" I did it because quite simply, I wanted to. For some reason, I found it important to process and tell our story. Not only the story about Alzheimer’s but my intertwined story about ‘stuff.’ I wanted to tell Mom’s story, Dad's story, and to add another voice in the moving dialogue of what people and families go through.
Barbie
Recently someone said to me they have two gears; stop and go. She is the kind of person who goes all day long. She is organized, (that’s a quality I’d pay money for,) and she is accomplished in most of what she endeavors to do. People like her just ‘do it.'
I wrote a book. I wanted to write a book, and I did. Good, bad, indifferent, received, enjoyed or rejected, I just did it. In doing so, I came face to face with doubt, and yes, occasionally grandiosity. Mostly, I came face to face with fear.
I remember when Mom was finishing her Masters’ Degree and had to submit a paper. She called me frequently, consumed with fear. There were times she felt she just couldn’t do it. There were times when she felt that what she was writing about wasn’t good. There were times she worried about what her superiors would think concerning her finished work. Isn’t that just like us to set ourselves up in the end by allowing fear to get in our way? Mom did finish her paper, and Mom did receive her Master’s Degree.
Push on… just ‘do it.’
In writing a book, I did not know anything about how it’s done traditionally. I had no starting point in writers’ conferences, literary agents or editors. I wasn't even aware of such things or groups until I was close to finishing my book.
To this day, I have no idea how to promote or sell my book as this is an ongoing learning experience. Quite frankly a google search on the ‘how to’ of self-publishing is exhausting. I have typed self-publishing in the search engine many times, the result is 150,000,000 hits in 0.21 seconds on my computer. I find myself unable to keep up with all the directions and suggestions, who would?
I wrote a book, opened a self-publishing company and faced my fear by pushing on. I said I wanted to, therefore I prayerfully just did it.
The fear that mostly got in my way, besides not really knowing what I was doing, was the fear of rejection and the fearful need to answer my own question throughout, "why am I doing this again?" Ultimately, the fear of rejection is a matter of faith. I am already secure in Christ. Any good that comes from that is in accordance to His will , therefore rejection quickly took a back seat. I was left with, "why, again, am I doing this?" I did it because quite simply, I wanted to. For some reason, I found it important to process and tell our story. Not only the story about Alzheimer’s but my intertwined story about ‘stuff.’ I wanted to tell Mom’s story, Dad's story, and to add another voice in the moving dialogue of what people and families go through.
Barbie
People diagnosed with Alzheimer's are more than three times as likely to die as those without it. (link quote)
Alzheimer’s is often overlooked by many individuals who aren’t dealing with it on the front line. Even those who witness this illness firsthand are often not confronted by Alzheimer’s stark reality. Many who have Alzheimer’s are in homes, hospitals and are cared for by medical personal. Alzheimer’s heartbreaking portrait can only be understood when we understand that, though it is a neurological illness, its effects are seen in the physical realm. Think about it... “the mind is a wonderful organ,” is it not? The mind tells your feet to move, it tells her stomach “I am hungry,” it recognizes beauty... The mind tells our arms to hug, and reminds our nerves that heat is present on the stove top. The mind sees and hears words, and translates them to something meaningful.
The mind. What a beautiful thing.
When a person loses their mind they lose everything. I’m not talking about a mental illness, I’m talking about nothingness.
I saw my mother look into a mirror several times and say, in all seriousness, “Who are you?” Mom didn’t see herself, she saw a stranger in the room. At first, when I saw Mom do this I wanted to laugh and make light of it, as Mom was often a jokester, but it was actually not a laughing matter. Mom saw another person in the room whom she did not know and it frightened her. Sometimes Mom looked at Dad and said “When are you leaving?” Mom and Dad were married almost 55 years yet she forgot who he was on many days. Mom kept waiting for this man , her husband, to leave.
We use the word 'paranoia' when describing some symptoms of Alzheimer’s but a better way to describe it would be mindlessness. Mom was not paranoid, she was losing her mind and it displayed itself as paranoia. Mom never changed. She was always lovely and pretty even in the end, but she could not recognize herself.
Alzheimer’s is more than just forgetfulness. It eventually spreads within the brain, effecting the section which controls the physical functions. A person with Alzheimer’s may eventually forget how to breathe or swallow. According to the Center for Disease and Prevention approximately 5 million people in the US are living with Alzheimer’s.
Still, many do not know that it is a fatal disease. There is no cure.
This figure is likely higher, since many with Alzheimer’s die from related complications.
Alzheimer’s is often overlooked by many individuals who aren’t dealing with it on the front line. Even those who witness this illness firsthand are often not confronted by Alzheimer’s stark reality. Many who have Alzheimer’s are in homes, hospitals and are cared for by medical personal. Alzheimer’s heartbreaking portrait can only be understood when we understand that, though it is a neurological illness, its effects are seen in the physical realm. Think about it... “the mind is a wonderful organ,” is it not? The mind tells your feet to move, it tells her stomach “I am hungry,” it recognizes beauty... The mind tells our arms to hug, and reminds our nerves that heat is present on the stove top. The mind sees and hears words, and translates them to something meaningful.
The mind. What a beautiful thing.
When a person loses their mind they lose everything. I’m not talking about a mental illness, I’m talking about nothingness.
I saw my mother look into a mirror several times and say, in all seriousness, “Who are you?” Mom didn’t see herself, she saw a stranger in the room. At first, when I saw Mom do this I wanted to laugh and make light of it, as Mom was often a jokester, but it was actually not a laughing matter. Mom saw another person in the room whom she did not know and it frightened her. Sometimes Mom looked at Dad and said “When are you leaving?” Mom and Dad were married almost 55 years yet she forgot who he was on many days. Mom kept waiting for this man , her husband, to leave.
We use the word 'paranoia' when describing some symptoms of Alzheimer’s but a better way to describe it would be mindlessness. Mom was not paranoid, she was losing her mind and it displayed itself as paranoia. Mom never changed. She was always lovely and pretty even in the end, but she could not recognize herself.
Alzheimer’s is more than just forgetfulness. It eventually spreads within the brain, effecting the section which controls the physical functions. A person with Alzheimer’s may eventually forget how to breathe or swallow. According to the Center for Disease and Prevention approximately 5 million people in the US are living with Alzheimer’s.
Still, many do not know that it is a fatal disease. There is no cure.
This figure is likely higher, since many with Alzheimer’s die from related complications.
I am so thankful that the prism of my own understanding is forced to depend on God.
Thinking about those who are facing “goodbye” and are processing their loss.
God’s Peace to you,
Barbie
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12
Excerpt from ‘When It’s all Said and Done’
“Knowing what is to come, does not soften the reality when it does come. Thinking we are prepared for death isn’t the same as facing it.”
Thinking about those who are facing “goodbye” and are processing their loss.
God’s Peace to you,
Barbie
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12
Excerpt from ‘When It’s all Said and Done’
“Knowing what is to come, does not soften the reality when it does come. Thinking we are prepared for death isn’t the same as facing it.”
Flowers in vases covered in water
Dear Twitter,
Not since listening to Kim Komando’s explanation of the future of technology, as understood in ICloud, has my brain had such a meltdown. I say that with genuine appreciation to Kim’s keen intelligence on all matters “techie.” I joined Twitter in May of 2011 to follow breaking news and things of interest, i.e. The Drudge Report, CNSNews, Debkafile News and Arutz Sheva Briefs. Several weeks ago I decided to “join” and get involved in this social network. Mostly, I was frustrated with the current affairs of our country, along with the world in general. I thought perhaps I may find others of “like mind” who felt like me.
Wow...did I ever!
After a few days, and some lovely follow backs (#Thank you) I began to ponder just how your network actually works in terms of responding to my new found “community.” Twitter has so many subcultures, therefore I had to determine which ones I wanted to define as my "prefer to follow” tags. I am following Christians, Conservatives and military men and women, both active and retired, along with their supporters.
After a few paltry attempts at “tweeting,” I proceeded to the local book store to purchase Twitter for Dummies, thinking this would be helpful to my delayed learning curve. Wrong.
The very first line in the books forward says “Let’s be honest. You’re not a dummy.” No I’m not, but I’m not as smart as the dummies book. Honestly, try as I may, I am not able to get past RT, favorite and reply. Every day I am a newbie and it’s starting to bother me. I feel foolish sending a full newbie disclosure to followers.
I get so excited when my phone dings me with a new tweet, or as we use to say, “you’ve got mail.” I run to see your shared message or my inclusion in a message sent out as a group. I love to see I’ve been followed. At least I have caught on in the silently assumed behavior of sending a 'thank you' and to re-follow those of interest. In reading “for dummies,” I get the "not to exceed 140 characters," but not how to send a group shout out. When I am included in a group message with only a bunch of @names and nothing else, I’ve yet to figure out the etiquette of responding. All the while, I am thrilled to be a “part of” your community. I also understand from “for dummies,” that I should be sensitive to the tw or twi prefix ie tweet, tweeple, and tweetup, and assess whether I will be using it as my language or not. I won’t be using it except as the word tweet applies.
For those who have never read this book and are advanced in their techie mental finger speed, kudos to you. I really admire you and I am jealous.
Page 108 says the name of the game is engagement. Ok but I’m on page 108 and the best I’ve got is “don’t use any more than 140 characters.” I’m really not a dummy, so why do I feel like one? On page 145, I am introduced to #hashtags. That one I learned 3 weeks before I bought the book, therefore I can move on, but not until I make a mental note-to-self to not over use hashtags. Before I am able to apprehend the whole idea of Twitter conversation, code of behavior and those favorite group includes, “for dummies” suggests yet another impossibility called branching out with #thirdparty applications. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere I am being lead to other software downloads with names like Seemic Desktop, TweetDeck, Digsby, Friedcell, Blip and Twitterific. Seriously, I just want to visit properly!
Mind you, I kept looking at your retweets and scratching my head while pondering the 140 character and your links to web sites. What’s bit.ly? Uhh... a quick google search away and easy directions, PASTE and COPY, it doesn’t get much easier for those of us "not dummy" types.
I must confess that 6 months before I turned 50 I spent a tremendous amount of time at #BestBuy. I went in repeatedly to talk to a lovely clerk who was #IPHONE smart. She taught me most of what I would need to know. I have now been using an IPHONE for over 5 years. As a newbie to IPHONE it wasn’t this painful. Yep, my whole world seemed to fit into my phone.
At this writing I only have 36 twitter followers.The highest compliment I had yesterday was to be added to a list called “friendly to Israel." This truly tugged at my heart strings.
Essentially, what I mean to say is that I am enjoying your tweets tremendously. I am not sure I will be catching up very quickly, but I so appreciate hanging out in this age of social networking and finding others who are #StandUpPatriots, #DefendersOfFreedom, #BibleBelievingChristians, #SupportersOfFamily, #OutspokenVoices, #Hoorah, #NeverForget and #GodBless people... no matter who or where you are. ( I know that’s more than 2 hashtags)
Barbie
Old Glory
Flag @ Naples, Maine Causeway
Excerpt from chapter 2 'When It's All said and Done'
"Mom introduced me to the computer when she was attending Antioch, to receive her Master’s Degree in teaching. We lived in Castine, and I was completely against this technological craziness. She and Dad gave us our first computer so she could show me how to use it and instant message me. She was quite proud of her ability to understand this “new age”. She loved MAC’s and was always showing me
the one at Stevens Brook Elementary School, and all that it could do for her kindergarten class. "
"Mom introduced me to the computer when she was attending Antioch, to receive her Master’s Degree in teaching. We lived in Castine, and I was completely against this technological craziness. She and Dad gave us our first computer so she could show me how to use it and instant message me. She was quite proud of her ability to understand this “new age”. She loved MAC’s and was always showing me
the one at Stevens Brook Elementary School, and all that it could do for her kindergarten class. "
“So you think you can write?” or, “So you think you can take “good” pictures?” Don’t we all? It was not until I jumped in wholeheartedly, out of a genuine love and passion, that I realized the extent of popularity in the self-publishing or photography arena. I was, and am, on such a learning curve…I had no idea of the language, seriousness, commitment and time it would consume. I only knew that I l enjoy both mediums. I find myself unable to walk away. I am obsessed. I don’t know what makes a person a “photographer,” any more than what makes someone a writer. My husband says that we become one, (either of the aforementioned), the moment we begin to write or take a picture. But I am talking about a real photographer or a real writer, according to the lay-person’s standards.
I suppose it’s when you become good at your “craft.” But “good” is in the eye of the beholder. I read incessantly about photography, yet I cannot retain the information when it comes time to click my camera.
I look at other people’s photos and appreciate the vision that is seen and captured.
I was watching the Westminster Dog Show and, while I enjoyed seeing the beautiful dogs, I couldn’t help but find myself drawn to the photographers in the background. I said to myself, “I need to practice taking pictures in low light without using a flash” and, “I wonder what kind of a lens they are using.” I kept getting distracted from the dogs as I attentively looked for “real photographers.” After all, they were in the front row at the Westminster Dog Show… they must be “real” photographers.
Once, I was at an event (with my camera, of course, which hardly ever leaves my side), and a gentleman began to “compare” with me. Apparently, he was a photographer. He held in his hands, like me, his pride and joy…a digital camera. You know the posture we take? Cute… He sort of snubbed me as I only have a Nikon 3100. Only! This baby cost me $500 dollars along with the throw-in package 200 zoom lens. I had in my “bag” another lens which cost me an additional $500. That’s a lot of money for this gal. Although, I guess that if you’re a serious photographer it’s a nothing camera, but this camera has become a part of me. It fits in my hands like a perfect set of gloves.
My goal, at this event, was to take photos and create a memorable music DVD. I do it free, as well as print pictures, to personally hand to people. What fun!
This gentleman asked me “Do you shoot in the R-A-W?”, “Yep” I said, having no idea what he even meant! “Take that,” I thought, “see, I’m a photographer.” (For those who do not know, RAW is a developed photo or actually undeveloped photo. RAW is like the old way: it sits sort of like a negative in storage until you’re ready to process it. It is different than JPEG, which is what most people use. Not understanding the difference makes them…NOT a photographer, I suppose).
The best advice I was ever given concerning shooting pictures in this digital era was to take as many …and even more than you can think of. Never forget, it’s free to delete them and have a blast!
Barbie
Excerpt from Chapter 6 'When It's All Said and Done'
" That September, I started taking more pictures than ever. I would drive to Bridgton past a farm that gave me comfort. I watched the season’s sunlight transition and waved at the tractor drivers plowing the fields. I looked forward to seeing the cows and sheep, stopping regularly to photograph them. I began to use my photos to make short DVD music videos about 2-5 minutes long. I would sit for hours at night, editing, improving and telling our story through this medium. Eventually I splurged from a small Sony “point and shot” camera to a Nikon 3100. It became my distraction. I have returned to those DVDs, and they truly reveal memories of my sorrow."
I suppose it’s when you become good at your “craft.” But “good” is in the eye of the beholder. I read incessantly about photography, yet I cannot retain the information when it comes time to click my camera.
I look at other people’s photos and appreciate the vision that is seen and captured.
I was watching the Westminster Dog Show and, while I enjoyed seeing the beautiful dogs, I couldn’t help but find myself drawn to the photographers in the background. I said to myself, “I need to practice taking pictures in low light without using a flash” and, “I wonder what kind of a lens they are using.” I kept getting distracted from the dogs as I attentively looked for “real photographers.” After all, they were in the front row at the Westminster Dog Show… they must be “real” photographers.
Once, I was at an event (with my camera, of course, which hardly ever leaves my side), and a gentleman began to “compare” with me. Apparently, he was a photographer. He held in his hands, like me, his pride and joy…a digital camera. You know the posture we take? Cute… He sort of snubbed me as I only have a Nikon 3100. Only! This baby cost me $500 dollars along with the throw-in package 200 zoom lens. I had in my “bag” another lens which cost me an additional $500. That’s a lot of money for this gal. Although, I guess that if you’re a serious photographer it’s a nothing camera, but this camera has become a part of me. It fits in my hands like a perfect set of gloves.
My goal, at this event, was to take photos and create a memorable music DVD. I do it free, as well as print pictures, to personally hand to people. What fun!
This gentleman asked me “Do you shoot in the R-A-W?”, “Yep” I said, having no idea what he even meant! “Take that,” I thought, “see, I’m a photographer.” (For those who do not know, RAW is a developed photo or actually undeveloped photo. RAW is like the old way: it sits sort of like a negative in storage until you’re ready to process it. It is different than JPEG, which is what most people use. Not understanding the difference makes them…NOT a photographer, I suppose).
The best advice I was ever given concerning shooting pictures in this digital era was to take as many …and even more than you can think of. Never forget, it’s free to delete them and have a blast!
Barbie
Excerpt from Chapter 6 'When It's All Said and Done'
" That September, I started taking more pictures than ever. I would drive to Bridgton past a farm that gave me comfort. I watched the season’s sunlight transition and waved at the tractor drivers plowing the fields. I looked forward to seeing the cows and sheep, stopping regularly to photograph them. I began to use my photos to make short DVD music videos about 2-5 minutes long. I would sit for hours at night, editing, improving and telling our story through this medium. Eventually I splurged from a small Sony “point and shot” camera to a Nikon 3100. It became my distraction. I have returned to those DVDs, and they truly reveal memories of my sorrow."
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