Sunday, Bloody Sunday

I have lived for 30+ years without seeing or participating in real combat. Following my graduation from Oral Roberts University with an International Business degree (two minors in German and Photography), I considered joining the military. Not only did they retroactively pay for your college tuition, but they picked out your outfits each day. And I look good in green.

Pretty much a win-win from my perspective.

I knew you had to be really tough, get muddy, climb under barbed wire, scale fences and then…you got to wear really cute hats.

I’ll take barbed wire any day, if it means cute hats.

A military passion seemed to run in my blood. My grandfather was in the navy and my father was a Lieutenant Colonel in the army. Uncles on both sides served, participated in and fought in several wars.

However, I haven’t lost a brother, a husband, a dad, or a cousin to a war. My life in Tulsa is pretty much free from military influence.

While I wish all nations would be peaceful, I realize that there is evil afoot. Sure, I’d like to have round table discussions with political leaders who acquiesce at mass murdering their own people. Leaders who would put the nation’s interest first and theirs, dead last.

But knowing the reality within my own family just to decide on which restaurant to eat at, I know that asking insanely egomaniacal leaders to humble themselves is almost ludicrous.

There is evil in this world and it is plainly that-evil.

Photo Credit
Without a proper guide, our nation will crumble. Without a Godly guide, our nation will fall into patterns seen before-socialism, communism, nepotism. Call it archaic, call me religious, but when men seek what men want, nations suffer and fall. It’s not my opinion-it’s historical fact. Not that there are many examples to give you. Men (and women) always seem to get in the way, often using God as an excuse to do the horribly wrong thing. When men seek what God wants, nations could prosper and thrive.

I for one, don’t want to relive a Sunday, Bloody Sunday. I want a holy Sunday, set apart for our nation to worship the one true God-that never changes, never forgets, never abandons and always forgives. I want a Sunday for those who need a Sunday.

Will you join me on this Sunday to fight the good fight, to run the race, to never give up, to never give in and to always seek after the One who has called us His very own?

Good Morning, Sunday and Vinegar!

Sunday is reserved for church in my mind. It’s been that way my whole life. I look forward to seeing our friends and family, watching Biceps beat the heck out of the drums and spend time learning more about God.

Our church is growing rapidly and now has six services. Biceps drums in each service, so we are there most of the day. (But, we do take a tiny nap break in the middle.)

However, today Biceps is on duty and we only have the one car. Pictured above is my second favorite thing to do on a Sunday, but alas…it is not what I will be doing today.

My house needs a good scrubbing and I am the one to do it. I keep trying to convince the cats to start wearing dishcloth booties on their paws to help out, but they won’t have anything to do with that nonsense.

Today, I will be knee deep in vinegar, water, tea tree oil and sweat. But, I will be listening to praise and worship music and singing along.

So, it’s almost like I’m in church….with a little vinegar on the side. Happy Sunday!

Freddie Mercury & Darth Vader

Freddie has always had a soft spot in my heart. How could you not love a man with a dirty mustache, short shorts, and half a microphone stand?

I have seen numerous photos of the man-but never this particular one. It has been passed around by friend’s of friends. I think it’s time to highlight the awesomeness of Freddie riding Darth.

The photo pretty much speaks for itself.

Photo Credit

‘Nuff said.

Grandma-Would I have made her proud?

I wasn’t able to get to know my mom’s mom. I’ve heard stories, seen countless pictures and can assume from the retellings that I may know what her personality was like. But, I only have other’s perceptions to draw from.

I’ve never heard her voice, saw her hand gestures or seen my own mother in her. These are the things that I’ve missed getting to know about her, since she passed away at the young age of 53.

This is my Grandmother (my mom’s mom) as a teenager.
I wonder if she would have the same bizarre sense of humor that I do, if she would have read my blog, if she liked cats.

 

I wonder if she would think we looked alike-seeing me dressed up like this.

And I wonder how I could I miss a person that I never even knew.