My Friend, December 25 and The Evergreen Tree

I have a lot of facts about the alleged birthday of Jesus and the oh so famous Evergreen tree.
I also have an overwhelming concern for one of our fellowship ladies who just found out she may not be one of us cancer survivors who is just too danged mean and stubborn to die. The breast cancer has spread to her lungs and she must start chemo again for an indefinite period. Considering her situation almost paralyzes me with fatigue. But this is not about me. This is about her and Christmas traditions and evergreen trees and Jesus.
How can I incorporate these diverse issues into one story? Let me try and we will see where it leads us.
In the first 300 years of the Christian Church birth dates were not given or celebrated. The Death Day was much more important as that was the day one entered into the heavenly kingdom.
Jesus' birth date was not historically recorded, but we know exactly when he entered Jerusalem as the ruling Messiah. We also know his death date to the hour. Have we confused what is important to God with our traditions? Will our death date be the day He has our birthday party ready with cake, friends, party hats,blowers,presents? Maybe ponies?
There have been a wide variety of hypotheses on Christ's birth date ranging from November through May. The Eastern and Armenian Church picked January 6. The Western Church favored by Constantine went with December 25. So as with St. Nicholas,A.K.A. Santa Claus, it seems the interpretation and legends of these traditions are arbitrary. I choose, hmmm, don't hate me, no traditional western Christmas. Can you see me dodging your rosy cheeked boos and bah humbugs?
I, being a really lazy human bean, hate the whole decorating frenzy one must enter upon to be a non grinchy,all American or western Christian. It is a massive redecorating blitz that leaves me with a dark cloud of dread hanging over my head. Beginning mid November, I can barely enjoy my young turkey filled Thanksgiving Day for dreading Christmas decorating season. My visions are not of sugar plums, but of undecorating the house in January surrounded by masses of dusty boxes covered in 17 year old packing tape hanging in ragged strips.
The green tree is the central figure around which all things jolly and seasonal revolve in our traditions.
I find it ironic that Moslems have banned our Christmas celebrations in their Kingdom since these traditions evolved from their own cousins ,the Egyptians and Iranians. The birthday of Mithras was celebrated on December 25 by Roman soldiers who learned this worship in Iran. The Egyptians used green date palm branches in their houses to symbolize something or the other that has to do with green stuff. The Druids in the British Isles also used green plants or trees for winter solstice rituals and to keep witches away from their homes. The Roman celebration of Saturnalia on December 25 is the closest to our traditions. Saturnalia was the god of agriculture, and again with the green stuff,plants,trees. They also used lights,gifts, coins, and pastries for happiness. Pecan and pumpkin pie make me happy!!!! Drinking and drunkenness were highly involved in the celebration of Saturnalia.
The German pagans from where we derive the actual evergreen, coniferous tree worshipped special trees and sacrificed men to them every few years.
Evidently there was a man called St. Boniface who got really mad at the pagans for what was going on around these trees,and cut down one of the 'big boys',Thor's Oak. Then when a new fir sprang up, he declared it a sign from Jesus that," He is God." What? Was the New and Old Testament not enough of a 'sign'? Then there is something about Martin Luther and a pretty little tree he kidnapped from its happy home in a beautiful snow covered forest.
There were lights involved of course.
The tree thing as we would recognize it came from Germany. The Royals in Austria,Germany, and then Britain instituted the custom in their palaces. Then the peasants followed suit,and the custom drifted through Hessian and German immigrants to America.
In all of this we do manage to cram Jesus in with a church program,a nativity scene,Salvation Army bell ringers,family reunions with lots of goodwill and good food.
And so where does my sick friend whose life is hanging in the balance fit into this satirical and informative story on the origins of our Christmas traditions?
She fits in because every decoration, every lit tree, Saint Nicholas, heart felt gift, fruit cake or pecan pie she enjoys in her home or a friend's is a living,loving demonstration of God's sweet and tender care for her. It is a pitiful little gift from our breaking hearts to hers. It is an odour of sweet smelling savor to her from the hands and kitchens of friends and family members that prepare her a holiday to treasure. Hopefully she will see and taste a little heaven on earth. Love can do that even in dark places.
And of course there is Light involved,the True Light.
I like the little poem" What can I give Him poor as I am? What can I give Him to do my part? What can I give Him? .................Give Him my heart."
In spite of the questionable origins of our traditions ,we can transform them to give our sister Christ's heart and ours.

Sandy Claws is coming to your house [Muuhaha]

I am sorry,but there is an oh so sensible reason why little children are afraid of Santa Claus. Plop me down on a strange old man's lap who has long white hair and a long white beard and believe you me I would throw down and have the closest viable weapon at his throat. Who has a long white beard and long white hair in the 21st century? Some White Supremacist fresh off the mountain looking to buy supplies for the suspicious black sack over his shoulder? It is just weird to expect us to accept as socially normal that a person small or large should sit on some strange old man's lap. Who the heck invented this celebration of Jesus' birth? Why do we perpetuate it,other than it is fun to see the babies cry. It is a bit reminiscent of the Baal worshipers placing their children in the red hot arms of the idol as an offering to their god.
Do I come across as jaded? Grinchy?
Oh yeah, I know the history of Saint Nicholas of Potara,Turkey. He was good, gave to the poor, became a bishop who was imprisoned by Diocletian in the 3rd century,was at the council of Nicaea. Yada yada yada. He died December 6 and we celebrate his Sainthood by giving stuff. Hello? Knock knock. You in there Jesus? Not so much so it steps on Saint Nicholas' trip? Then the New York Dutch tarted Saint Nicholas or Sinte Klaas up even more,and so Voila! We have the present day Sandy Claws. Hey, I can tart him up too. Its up for grabs the way I see it.

Kitty Ranchin'

I would like to tell you about my wild Arab kitty ranch.
Last year a momma cat and her two half grown kittens showed up in my back yard.
We named the kittens Sister and Brother. They were inseparable. Brother an Sister kept each other warm. Brother seemed to know he was bigger and stronger and needed to stay near his delicate sister. I fixed them beds with blankets on the chairs,and eventually they got tame enough to come inside and eat. They were still skiddish, but every now and then we could pet them. Sister was small,vulnerable, beautiful,and very cautious. She was a calico with beautiful dark eyeliner and a trusting ,gentle look in her eyes. Brother was ginger and white with long-hair. He was bold and would laze around like he was to the manor born. They had the best manners of any persons I have ever known, which I am sure came from their humble,well mannered calico mother.
After I went to the U.S.A. for 7 months sister disappeared. I saw brother once or twice after I returned and then he too disappeared. Momma cat still comes everyday for her treat,and has not lost her beautifully gentle manner. I think she has another caretaker feeding her because she has a dashing green plaid collar that matches her eyes. Mind you there is no veterinary tag as these cats are much too wild to catch.
After my return from the the U.S.A. another little cat family appeared in my backyard. At first we were afraid of 'little momma' as she seemed aggressive and attacked us through the glass door. As I started putting food out for her and her half grown family of three she became quite affectionate. She is a little' scary 'affectionate as I think someone has probably mistreated her. She rubs my legs with frenzied fervor that is reminiscent of a fanatical religious person. Sometimes she gets so excited she bites my house shoes or the back of my fuzzy yellow house coat when I walk away from her. She comes into the house like she has a gold plated invitation. Her 3 kittens are untouchably wild. I have named the smallest kitten, Inkblot. He is black and white like his mother ,but with black inky splotches on his face. Phantom has one grey side of her face and one white like 'the phantom' in Phantom of the Opera. The other kitten I have named Scarecrow because he has a triangle of gray colour around his nose like the scarecrow in Wizard of Oz. Phantom and Scarecrow are long-haired grey and white kittens. Inkblot is typically Arab shorthair like his mother. There are in addition to 'the family' 2 male cats that come around at night to eat,but have remained outside the circle. One is a ginger short-hair with a muscular neck and battle wounds on his face, and one is a ginger and white long hair. I don't think it is 'Brother.' He is too large.
'The Family' come every night to eat. I have laid cushions and blankets on four chairs for the little family. They love their little beds in the evenings, but I have no idea where they reside during the day. Little Momma and the original Momma cat come during the day and seem to have a bit of a Mexican standoff going on. Momma cat being older,wiser,and larger wins the skirmishes, but Little Momma comes running into the house after a defeat and takes sanctuary behind my legs. Sometimes the whole family comes in the house at dusk and act like kids let loose at Disney land for the first time. They run and pounce and hide in joyous excitement over and under every item in the living/dining room.
Today Brother was sited early in the mists of the cool Arab morning, but then disappeared. We will never know what happened to Sister of the gentle trusting eyes.
When I go to the USA for Christmas I will leave plenty of cat food with my Indonesian neighbor and hope she feeds them every night as I do.
I have a daughter I will call moonbeam[because she is so hard to get a hold of] ,who loves the cats and would take over the ranching business if she could, but alas she is on a completely different continent. Moonbeam has kitty ranchin' in her blood.
What will happen to my little herd when I leave Arabia forever? It troubles me. I will pray for them and maybe get The Paws group to catch them and put them up for awhile with medical treatments, but that is temporary. They will eventually have to let them loose,then who is going to feed my little herd,put blankies out, freshen their water, let them in the house for their Disney-like cat adventures?
Being a kitty rancher is a great responsibility.

Good Natured Satirist or Dog the Bounty Hunter

I have two humors in me. One is to minimize the offenses I encounter in the world with wit,satire,humour. The other is to fully confront the offenses with a not so humorous diatribe.
Which is preferable? Which is most needful and most honest? My family think I tend to be a "Negative Nancy or Debbie Downer." They are right,and yet I feel the straight forward diatribe is honest and needful. For my own peace and well being though, I think I should be humorously satirical,because I get into a 'slough of despond' after the diatribe has been unleashed. As I said in an earlier blog I am quite suited to be a "Dog the Bounty Hunter" ,but somehow I don't think stirring anger and indignation in my own soul or that of my readers is going to be beneficial.
Yet, I say," we have to stand for what is right"."That is non-negotiable. And what is 'right' is in The Bible."
The Bible wants righteousness, unshakable moral fiber,and OK, peace,love,and kindness. [yawn] Where my withered little spirit gets confused is in the balance of the two humors. Kindness,goodness,peace on one hand and righteous indignation on the other. I will tend to take the evil down with righteous indignation, and if it leads to bludgeoning you over the head with The Bible a little, so be it. I think that is the bounty hunter mentality. When I unchain that spirit it gets strong. That is why I think I will keep 'The Dog' chained.
The humourous,edgy satirist is better for my spiritual welfare and yours, though sometimes'The Dog" just gets too provoked and breaks its tether.
I need Jesus to pet me ,tame me,send me to obediance school. I can learn to catch the frisbee, sit,stay, roll over,sniff out contraband,find people buried in avalanches of snow,and all with a friendly,contolled likability. And then you may call me,Polly Positive, Beatrice Boring, Sappy Sally. Some of us were just born to be guard dogs.

Beware all who enter here

Hello friends: BEWARE all ye who enter here.
I am tired today,and a little empty and bummed. That is not true. I am irritated and angry. My stomach is bloated like I am 6 months pregnant, my new haircut is ridiculous and unflattering, and I had to eat lunch alone at a restaurant after Bible study.
I am sick to death of know it all ,arrogant Christians. They speak with such authority and absolute assurance that they are right and you aren't. Assuring you that what they just pontificated upon is absolutely correct. Then when you look up what you thought was their error and find you were right, they are already gone on their self-righteous ,self deluded way,congratulating themselves on their superior knowledge and understanding of the scriptures. Frustratingly you are the only one that knows they are misinformed as you look at the facts before you.
They speak of reverence and holy awe with such pride and religiosity. A little humility like the dirty old publican might be more in order. And then there are those that harshly judge an other's circumstance without scriptural backup ? With their oh so self-confident, yet un- scriptural, concept that' God works in mysterious ways'. Meaning ,we don't care what has befallen whether bad, perverted, or evil, God mysteriously did it. When you protest that the Bible does not say God works that way as revealed in the Old and New Testaments,they still throw down the 'God is too mysterious,His ways too hidden for you to understand card.' The only thing hidden and occult in New Testament dispensation is Satan and his occult ,demonic activities,and who the anti-Christ is and when he is going to appear.[ Well, OK, the time of the rapture is hidden.] So I am supposed to agree with some self-deluded,religious person's view of evil circumstances? Maybe in some weird parallel universe. I think I'll read my Bible and find out what It says, thank-you very much.
Give me a big fat sloppy and irreverent break. The traditionalists/religious set don't like drums, in worship songs,it isn't reverent. PUHLEASE. Were their drums,cymbals in the Psalms? They want to legislate dress to their denominational or traditional concept of proper attire. Baggy shorts, shirts on the outside, sandals are not considered reverent or respectful. Blue jeans offend God's holiness. COME ON. No wonder kids don't want to be Christians or attend church. Man-made traditions and concepts of pleasing God are imposed as if they were ordained by God. Moral dress is of course a requirement in old and new testaments, but, blue jeans and baggy shorts,sandals ,Hawaiian flowered shirts are as moral as any lace collared dress,or pants suit , suit or tie.
Get a scriptural clue old people. God says He knew us while we were yet in our sin. He accepts the sinner who comes in whatever stink he has wrapped himself in. Bring them in from the fields of sin. Don't hinder the little ones who want eternal life because their clothes are not your traditional clothing or their music is not your traditional religious music. Tens of thousands of young people are coming into churches to hear the gospel every weekend in what some of you would consider irreverent clothing, listening to irreverent music at an inappropriate time. Let's take Saturday evening. They must not have really worshipped because it was not Sunday morning. Never mind that many protestant Christians in Arab countries have to worship on Friday morning. We must not be worshipping reverently or appropriately either.
Once the lost come in and are saved The Holy Spirit will clean up their dress,their music. But that does not mean they are going to wear heels and dresses,pants suits ,coats and ties and listen to hymns played like funeral dirges.
You know that many of our traditional hymns are tunes that were taken from the wharfs and taverns of seafaring men. So stop with the arrogant judgements on this generation's music and clothes. Ye whited sepulchres!
I told you to Beware didn't I?
Sorry.

The Watchman

Isaiah 24,25. David Wilkerson at Times Square Church, NYC.,August 07.

In one hour everything will change.

God moves when the cup of violence overflows. The increasing flood of child pedophilia, kidnapping, torture, murder, abortion, genocide,violence,death in schools, militant homosexuality will draw the wrath and fire of God.

The upheaval will change the Church,but the church will sing in the fire.

The prosperity doctrine and hyper-faith people will be reeling. The focus of our lives will change from a materialistic walk to a spiritual walk. Students held captive in godless universities by godless professors will be set free and empowered by The Lord.

Comfort each other in the church. Live or die we are the Lord's,and we are not to fear death.

Saints will be quickened and sing and strengthen each other.

Saints you must sing about how Great Our God is in your own personal trials. Practice faith, hope, praise so you are strengthened when the fire falls. We will recover our hope.

We anticipate Christ's imminent return for the church,the wiping out of His enemies, and His return to Israel and setting up of the Millennial reign on earth.

Even as You have said, Come quickly and soon, Lord Jesus.

Hey hey ya'll.
Oh boy. Went to a 'christian writers' meeting tonight. I am way out of my league. I don't think christian satire, or off the wall humour[not dirty] by a non serious peanut like myself is going to find shelter in the christian writer's community. A good portion of the group are PHD. professors of English and are like light years ahead of me academically and intellectually. [I had to look alliteration up when I got home. ] At least I know how to use a dictionary. Actually I am honored to be among them and will learn a lot if I can keep my mouth shut and try not to be 'The Entertainer'. See, narcissism keeps crowding its way back onto center stage.
I think a couple of the ladies need someone to love them, accept them and simply enjoy their company. I can do that. I will begin to add them into my circle of concern in prayer. Their needs and burdens will come to be a bit of my responsibility. Peanut accepts the Mission, Lord. I will speak of what YOU have done and do at every opportunity as well. Is it a deal? Can I be nicely satirical,self-deprecatingly humurous ,and a wee bit loud? I won't be rude. Or is that already rude? I just hate boring,and taking oneself too seriously,but will try hard not to overlay that onto someone else. Slap a little bit of that around on myself is ok though,right?
Alrighty then, Lord,
Love Ya'.
I will just be me and let them be them and YOU be the great and mighty YOU.

Every thing new is old again

Hi Folks. God Bless you all young and old,
We are reeling from Turkey Day hangover. No, not from any spirits other than that of the Great Turkey's. We call heem Capn. Kirk, The Captain, Mr. Kirky. By the way have you noticed that all the Butterball turkeys are 'young'? I wonder what an 'old turkey' would taste like?
In our western culture even the turkeys have to be young. Very discouraging from the point of view of an 'Old Bird'. Of course the old birds are singing their version of 'nanny nanny booboo 'which sounds like 'gobble gobble gobble' in turkey talk as the 'younguns' are herded into that 'special place'.
My family of wild Arab cats are enjoying 'The Captain's' remains. God rest his little turkey soul.
We had the traditional dinner at our friends' houses. My husband ,the human jukebox ,played the guitar and sang as usual. My children that checked in with me from all points west had various plans like the traditional dinner with friends,and the ever so traditional drive to San Francisco and crashing on some old school chums floor. Do youths of the 21st century still crash or is there another word for it now?Perfect 3 point landing?
I did helicopter in several times from Saudi Arabia via skype to my daughter's cell phone while she was enroute to the 'three point landing site'. The call from the computer in my living room in Saudi Arabia goes to her car cell phone system on Calif. Highway I 5 N. Isn't that amazing? She is crossing Golden Gate Bridge in her car in California,USA, talking to me while I am sitting in my living room in Saudi Arabia connected to her car phone via computer. I had to hang up so she could see her GPS. Could one of you nerds fix that little inconvenience?
Remember the good old days of trying to find your way in an unknown city by a previously wadded up map used to wipe muddy feet or written directions scratched on an old grocery list? Remember the good old heated words between driver and passenger,co-pilot, map reader? The good old screaming, gesturing , threatenings, when the last exit for 500 miles has just been missed because no one knew it was coming up that quickly or on that side of the highway? Those good old days are over. The nice lady on the GPS tells you everything ahead of time, dings a bell just before the turn or exit. If you do happen to be otherwise occupied,deaf or semi comatose from inhaled exhaust and miss your exit , she calmly and with great civility and respect asks you to make a legal u-turn at your next opportunity and then pleasantly reroutes you. She does not scream or demand to know if you just got brain damaged or have always secretly been that way.
So you can wish for the good ol'days if you want. I like the bad new days. God bless the turkeys young and old that gave us these super-sonic new technologies. Maybe there is something to this 'young' turkey thing. New, young ,it is all working for me. Anyway who wants to have an 'old' turkey for Thanksgiving dinner? I want mine on the 'cutting edge' so to speak.
Have a nice day. Don't worry about slamming the door, I'm getting used to it. The cats love it when you come as they always get in the house. No, I'll get them,just go on.
Y'all come back now,you hear?

Thanksgiving comin' at you 07

Hello my friend! Come on in. You want to talk about Thanksgiving? Great minds and all that....... Sit awhile. Take a load off.
I will tell you why I love Thanksgiving ,because I love to eat. Its that simple and that shallow. I know others have this deeply principled,and somewhat misty-eyed conception of Thanksgiving, family and friends,foundational religious freedom,providential bounty, hardship,suffering, horrible deprivation and exposure to the elements leading to death and possible loss of limb from frost bite. Thanks,but no thanks.
Makes me thankful that I live in a 21st century country,The USA, and or The Magic Kingdom that Aramco provides and not Siberia, Bangladesh,or the jungles of Papua New Guinea. I like my A.C./heater, clean running water, flush toilets, my SUV that burns enough fuel to run a small city, decent hospitals with skilled physicians to unclog my clogged arteries and possibly put the paddles to my chest and yell,"CLEAR" after my Thanksgiving dinner. Thank-you God!!! You are good to us.
I am thankful that my husband works his hindmost parts off to provide for me,his fingers to the bone as it were. I am thankful that I don't have to work mine off. Its best this way.
The only work I would be fit for would be something like what Dog The Bounty Hunter does and I would probably be in just as much trouble as he is.
Lest I have portrayed myself as a gluttonous ne'er do well,I must say in my own defense that my friends have entrusted me with the "mashed potatoes" every Thanksgiving. Mmhh. Yup. This year as a promotion and acknowledgement of my spiritual and emotional progress, I have been asked to make a turkey and woooooooo......gravy!
And when I say wooooo..........it means,"be afraid,be very afraid." Although I love to eat seasonal comfort food and any and all food for that matter, I cannot cook worth a flying flip. My husband would rather eat frozen pizza or canned chili than the concoctions I have glommed together. He is so good, no, he is a saint! If there are mansions in heaven to reward a soul for patience and long-suffering in unusual hardship, he should have the biggest house on the beach. I hope he will share,and I hope the house comes with a cook.
As my preacher on the Internet, Mike McIntosh of Horizon Church, San Diego says" I am thankful that God has allowed me to suck air for another day."
Thank-you God for food, friends, husband,modern conveniences, and air! You are so good to me.
Oh? You have to go now? Well, OK, bye. Try not to slam the ....... and don't let the cats in this time. Come back real soon now, you hear?

Definition of narcissism

Narcissism- self[ love,centered,admiration,regard.]There is a healthy self-love? So far it looks pretty dysfunctional to me. Elitism in a group sense and vanity, conceit,egotism,selfishness on a personal level. Yikes!! Those are the good definitions.
Here are the bad ones: superiority,lack of empathy, overestimates abilities,excessive need for admiration,affirmation,severe selfishness,disregard for the needs and feelings of others,self-indulgent. Selfagrandization and acclaim not based on genuine accomplishments. UGH!
I don't want to be in that! Let me out.
The only way out is through the cross of Jesus,cleansed by His perfection and blood sacrifice.
John 3:16: For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,that whosoever believes in Him should not perish,but have everlasting life.
First John 4:7,8. Beloved let us love one another. For love is of God and everyone that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not,knoweth not God for God is love. Beloved,let us love one another. That pretty well kicks narcissism[self-love] in the head. [I would say keister,but I am preachin' here so got to keep it on the up and up.]
The resurrection power of Messiah Jesus ,The Holy Spirit, can change the stinky old narcissist and keep him fresh as a daisy,not fresh as a narcissus.
Got a few things to work on here,pray about. See you later.

I am in it and so are you

I would like to thank-you all,whoever you might be for stopping by.
I will have pictures at some later date as they add so much interest to a story.
First I will buy a camera,get someone to teach me how to use it,and then to down load pictures to p.c. and over to blog. This could take awhile. No holding of breath as one could possibly expire while waiting.
There are two groups of friends I would like to give a shout out to: The card group in Dhahran,and the the Book Bags. The Book Bags is a bookclub started the summer of 07 by former Aramcons. Jill and I wanted to name it the Book Hoes,but the more sensitive of the group said they could not in all good conscience call themselves that. We graciously acquiesced,[there may not have been a lot of grace involved here,just high spirited fun.] We named ourselves and everything else we could think of by the illustrious second word of the title for a good 3 or 4 hours. It was all in good fun. The card group is fun as well with a high spirited mix of liberals and conservatives who love each other enough not to get too mean. Girls,we need a name. How about the card hoes? What? No?
You may be thinking ,"what is a good[ok, not so much on the good] born-again,Holy Spirit filled,Bible believing person using or even thinking of labels like that ?" Minds up up up, a hoe is a garden tool,like a spade. Ok ,sometimes we just have too much fun and not enough sense. Forgive us,Lord Jesus. Love ya'.
I would be remiss to not mention my babies: Not by name of course as I don't want every nut in the world searching them out. They total 5. They are all borned again,seeking the Lord, and ready to go. Two have masters,one is working on masters ,and one is working on a B.A. [She is on the ten year plan.] The last one is working on sitting up,patty cake, eating from spoon. I am sure she will graduate with honors.
I should mention the good man who has put up with me lo these 35 and half years. You are the 'good' one.
To all my bestest ones ,I love you.
Don't slam the door on the way out .What are you,born in a barn?
Come back soon now. You hear?

I want to be in it

This is my 2nd blog. I lost the first one

So this is the big time

I have hit the big time. I am in it. There is so much to say and so much time in which to say it. Perfect.

If no one ever reads this, I would not be upset. I want to see my thoughts,memories,points of view in print. If anyone disagrees with me ,I can just delete them. Again, perfect.

Ok, I will try to be mature and not delete every contrary opinion. If you are smart,and right I might listen to you. Of course I will determine whether you are smart or right.

This is a narcissists dream.

So, here it is ,readers ,my first blog.