the right side of history…where will we be?

The history of the West is built on the interplay between these two pillars:
Divine meaning and reason. We receive our notions of Divine meaning from a
three-millennial-old lineage stretching back to the ancient Jews; we receive
our notions of reason from a twenty-five-hundred-year-old lineage stretching
back to the ancient Greeks.
In rejecting those lineages–in seeking a graft ourselves to rootless philosophical comments
of the moment, cutting ourselves off from our own roots—
we have damned ourselves to an existential wandering.

Ben Shapiro


(Michaelangelo’s God from The Sistine Chapel)

And we’re also remembering the guiding light of our Judeo/Christian tradition.
All of us here today are descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
sons and daughters of the same God.
I believe we are bound by faith in our God, by our love for family and neighborhood,
by our deep desire for a more peaceful world, and by our commitment to protect the freedom
which is our legacy as Americans.

Ronald Reagan, Former U.S. President (1980-1988)

I had to take my husband to the hospital yesterday for a nuclear stress test–
the glowing type of test I suppose.

So while I sat for my near four hours, I had the foresight to carry a new book with me…
The Right Side of History
How Reason and Moral Purpose Made The West Great

by Ben Shapiro

Ben Shapiro is, if you’ve never seen nor heard him, is a young sharp cookie.
Not like this cookie here in cookieland…but a much younger and much smarter cookie.
A good kosher cookie.

Ben is a 35-year-old Orthodox Jew.
He is a graduate of Harvard Law School, a married man with two young children.
He also happens to be a conservative commentator which labels him as persona non grata
or better, a pariah.
An outcast from what is considered our progressive liberal mainstream society.

Each time I’ve had the opportunity to catch an interview featuring Ben as a guest,
I have been greatly impressed with his views, data, and points.

His interviews are reminiscent of when I was teaching high school and was listening to our
debate team kids engaging in debate “presentations”.
Barely discernable facts spouted off at the speed of light.
It took a gift of keen listening in order to keep up.

Ben tends to spout off his facts in that same machinegun type of fashion.

Yet in Ben’s case, he has had built quite the resume of political journalistic prowess.

And so I sat in that lovely waiting room with its lone TV on the game show channel,
with my trusty highlighter in hand…that was until it ran dry.
I then grabbed a pen out of my purse and went to town.

At the beginning of this latest book, Ben recalled a moment when his wife once asked him
if he was happy.

Now being the smart young husband that he is…
Ben readily noted that when a spouse,
in particular one’s wife, asks if you’re happy…that can be a dangerously loaded question.

He shared that she asked this question during a rather stressful period in their lives—
their children were young and naturally required, as children do, lots of time and attention.
His wife had a career as a doctor while he was in the early stages of working with
his business partner trying to get their website and podcast venture off the ground–
all the while traveling the country, busy with speaking engagements.

Ben took the question deeper… to that of a question as to when was he was the most happiest—
and that answer was found on the Sabbath.

Ben is an Orthodox Jew who cuts off the world for 25 hours each weekend when he
and his small family take time to observe the Sabbath.

No TV
No computer
No work
No politics.

Only God, then family.

He recalls a traditional Jewish saying…
“the Jews didn’t keep the Sabbath, the Sabbath kept the Jews”

Ben makes the point that politics is not the driving force for his happiness despite
the fact that it is the pursuit of politics that is where he makes his living…
yet it is the same revelation that our founding fathers also knew.
Our faith is our root—not our politics.
A root that came to us on Mt Sinai.

However this is where we’ll stop for the time being.
Whetting your whistle.

This is a meaty book—
a book that is steeped not only in our Nation’s history but steeped in that of
Western Civilization’s root history–
the history of both our Western Civilization and that of our Judeo/ Christian roots.

A root system we have taken for granted as we are currently watching its erosion.

Like I say—more to share in the coming days…

“Lasting happiness can only be achieved through cultivation of soul and mind.
And cultivating our souls and minds requires us to live with moral purpose.”

Ben Shapiro

humble thy self—if you really want to understand…

“This is the great work of man:
always to take the blame for his own sins before God and
to expect temptation to his last breath.”

St. Anthony of the Desert


(artwork by Marcel van Luit)

“My daughter, love has brought Me here, and love keeps Me here.

My daughter, if you knew what great merit and reward is earned by one act of pure love for Me,
you would die of joy.

I am saying this that you may constantly unite yourself with Me through love,
for this is the goal of the life of your soul.

This act is an act of the will.

Know that a pure soul is humble.

When you lower and empty yourself before My majesty,
I then pursue you with My graces and make use of My omnipotence to exalt you.”

St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, p.244
An Excerpt From
The Diary of St. Faustina

sinners beware

“The depravity of man is at once the most empirically verifiable reality
but at the same time the most intellectually resisted fact.”

Malcolm Muggeridge

“Men will allow God to be everywhere but on his throne.
They will allow him to be in his workshop to fashion worlds and make stars.
They will allow Him to be in His almonry to dispense His alms and bestow his bounties.
They will allow Him to sustain the earth and bear up the pillars thereof,
or light the lamps of heaven, or rule the waves of the ever-moving ocean;
but when God ascends His throne, His creatures then gnash their teeth.
And we proclaim an enthroned God, and His right to do as He wills with His own,
to dispose of His creatures as He thinks well, without consulting them in the matter;
then it is that we are hissed and execrated, and then it is that men turn a deaf ear to us,
for God on His throne is not the God they love.
But it is God upon the throne that we love to preach.
It is God upon His throne whom we trust.”

Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Humans never cease to amaze me.

I imagine we never cease to amaze God either…

However, I imagine He already knows what it is that we do, be that good or be that bad…

So perhaps amazed He is not….nor is He bemused…
but perhaps rather, dare I say, He just might be dismayed…

In this age of all things politically correct,
all things hashtags, all things of movements and isms…
why should I be surprised over the ever growing attacks happening to those more
conservative among us?

If you are a conservative, a Christian Conservative at that…
be it as a journalist, entertainer, actor, musician, sports star, politician, ad infinitum…
you best be prepared because those who loathe your conservative Christian values and nature
are coming after you.

They will dig up everything and anything you ever once did or said—
things and words that are now perceived ever more vile, heinous,
irreprehensible or merely, dare I say it, sinful than when you first did or said such things.

Because our culture has deemed all past faux pas, stupidity, youthful arrogance,
and yes even hurtful actions…irredeemable.

No Grace, no Redemption.

And yet who among us is without sin?

Who among us has not said or done things we, as our older and now hopefully wiser selves,
regret?
Things that were done and said which were the cause for remorse and shame due to the harm
inflicted to not only ourselves but particularly to others?

And yet were we not afforded the gift of confession, followed by salvation—
allowing for moving forward from having learned from the pain and error while striving
to do better by, not merely ourselves, but especially for that of our fellow man?

So perhaps we can then agree that no matter if we were either young or old, we have
most likely committed some hurtful or even egregious act.
Something that now brings us the deep feeling of shame or remorse…and yet
a joy that has been found in the Grace afforded to us and our error.

It’s something that is sadly part and parcel for our humanness—
that of our sinful nature.

However, in all of this talk of past sinful acts, it’s just that some of our acts
didn’t seem so egregious at the time…
in large part because of the time.

Because we were living in a time long before the time we now find
ourselves living…a time that finds us living in the age of saintliness.

Yesterday our dear friend Kathy over on atimetoshare.me wrote a post regarding
the Biblical story of the woman who had spent a lifetime hemorrhaging—
the constant internal bleeding that made itself manifest to those who saw her—

( https://atimetoshare.me/2019/03/19/she-touched-his-hem/)

This constant bleeding labeled her as “unclean”—blood carried heavy connotations to
the ancient Jewish world.
And those who were labeled to be “unclean” were to be avoided by one and all
as they were considered ‘less than.’

This poor woman had heard of the young Rabbi who was to be teaching and preaching nearby.
She sought his presence.
Not a meeting, not an appointment…but rather simply his presence.

She believed, without a doubt, that just His presence would be enough.

However yesterday when I first saw Kathy’s post, my mind actually went straight
to the story of the young adultress who was condemned to stoning for her sin…

Never mind her sin was not a sin of one…but actually a sin of two…
yet she was, however, the woman and obviously the temptress.
Therefore, given the time and culture in which she was living,
she was the lone guilty party.

There is little doubt that her sexual partner was a part of the crowd of men who
circled around her as they lifted the stones.

And yet here came, once again, the young Rabbi.

He calmly posed a single question to the execution party.

A very applicable question posed to each of us today.

“Who among you is without sin?”

And so in this time of a rabid culture that claims pious saintliness,
as it races to condemn and stone each and every conservative,
conservative Christian or Jew, or those who are morally driven to seek truth over falsehood…

Be reminded…not one of us can cast that first stone…

as we are each blessedly offered the same Grace…of forgiveness, redemption and salvation.

The scribes and the Pharisees *brought a woman caught in adultery,
and having set her in the center of the court,
they *said to Him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act.
Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?”
They were saying this, testing Him, so that they might have grounds for accusing Him.
But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground.
But when they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them,
“He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. 9 When they heard it,
they began to go out one by one, beginning with the older ones, and He was left alone,
and the woman, where she was, in the center of the court.
Straightening up, Jesus said to her, “Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?”
She said, “No one, Lord.”
And Jesus said, “I do not condemn you, either.
Go.
From now on sin no more.”

John 8:3-11

accommodating whom?

“If you accommodate others, you will be accommodating yourself”
Chinese Proverbs


(The Mayor helping emptying the dishwasher / Julie Cook / 2019)

Ok…so I’m still struggling between feeling better and being zapped of all energy…but that
didn’t seem to keep my mind from racing from thought to thought during the course of the
past week.

I’d see this or that irony or idiocy and would make a mental note that a
future post would be in order.

Then I’d feel the fervery chills again or the Mayor would be racing off willy nilly toward
something alluring, putting her life at risk, and those thoughts would quickly dissipate.

But the passing of a rural church’s sign last evening helped to jog my memory.

However, let’s back up a tad.

Let’s consider a word.
The word being–
Accommodating

A word that means a willingness to please: that of being helpful, obliging.

Obliging, in turn, meaning indulgent.

Indulgent then in turn meaning a willingness to allow excessive leniency.

I think we see where this is going…

It is going to the notion of making life, or that of another’s existence, as easy peasy as possible.

It is something our culture is honing to a high art form…

Making everything easy peasy…while offering leniency for all as we indulge everyone and anyone.
Matters not your desires nor choices…

Oh, no wait….it does matter…
It matters only if you are a Chrisitan, a Jew, a conservative or a moralistic individual…
because we simply cannot accommodate those who hold such mindsets…
But if you want anything outside the circle of a Judaeo /Christian mindset, we’ll accommodate you til
the cows come home.

And this thinking came from a drive last night when I passed by a sign outside of a church
that proclaimed “We Now Have Saturday Church”

At first look and read, that little advert seems great.
Saturday Church for those who can’t “make” Sunday Church.

But this seemingly benign offering got me thinking.

How much has The Church—each and every denomination of the Christian Church,
gone in order to accommodate the masses?

Praise rock bands to draw in the young.
Coffee house settings to draw in the casual laid back.
Video theatrics to show our cutting edge use of technology.
Gay clergy to make the fringe members feel accepted.
Preaching openness and love to show our all-embracing nature.
Removing the ideas of sin, hell or consequence from our actions because we are love and love only.
Gay marriages to express our inclusion.
Petitions to change the wording of the Bible to show we are progressive…
God as the God-dess.

On and on we go because the numbers show that the Church is losing.

It is losing to a deeply divisive yet progressive secular culture that
has no room for what Christianity has stood for over the past two thousand years.

It hasn’t helped that the clergy has almost singlehandedly cast a heavy
veil of mistrust…with many heinous acts of predation, across denominational lines,
leaving many of the faithful with deep wounds and now disgust for the Church as a whole.

So in desperation, The Church lets out all the stops.
Desperate to accommodate any and all…
just please don’t go…
please just come…
back…

And yet it is The Bridegroom who has never changed.

He, the Godhead, has remained the same since the creation of our existence…

He was before such and He will be long after such…

He will never change, be changed, bend, beg, accommodate or oblige.

He gave everything He could give on a fateful day of betrayal and death…
He offered redemption.
He offered hope.
But He will not bend nor will He be changed…
despite our bending over backward for anything and everything other than God.

God is not human, that he should lie,
not a human being, that he should change his mind.
Does he speak and then not act?
Does he promise and not fulfill?

Numbers 23:19

An unexpected interruption, the question of shot or no shot and finally, the wisdom of Mary Poppins

“Everything is possible,
even the impossible”

Mary Poppins


(Emily Blunt and the always enchanting Angela Lansbury in the new Mary Poppins
movie as seen on our son’s TV)

Ok, so where was I…??

Ok, so maybe the question should be… where in the heck have I been?

When we were last together, I think I made mention that we were off to see the Mayor…
bringing her home with us for a few days…

Well…we did…sort of…….

A week ago Monday evening, late, we got a call from our son.
Or someone who was supposed to be our son who was sounding very puny, croaky and cloggy.

A pained voice informed us “I’ve just gotten back from Urgent Care and I have the flu
so you’ve got to come get the baby NOW!!!
The doctor told me not to be around her.”

“Ok” I’m thinking.
Your wife is 8 months pregnant, your 13th-month-old has been right there—
you’ve all been together in very close proximity up until now—
so if anyone is getting the flu…
well, that ship sailed days ago when you first started feeling bad.

That’s how viral things work—they make the rounds before you even realize
they’re at work making the rounds.

“We’ve planned on coming tomorrow …
I don’t think the night is going to alter the course of viral destiny”

I calmly respond to a panicked first-time dad.

“We’ve had the flu shot.
We’ve all had the flu shot…
even Autumn had the flu shot…”

He practically wails apologetically with deep lamentations.

“Oh well” I quip a bit caustically.

For you see, at this very moment, I too was oddly not feeling well.
I felt chilled and suddenly zapped of all energy as well as slightly nauseated with a headache.

“Buck up,” I hear an inner voice commanding from someplace deep inside my head.

The satellite Woobooville office was all set-up and good to go—
awaiting our return back home with the Mayor.

‘We are to be on a rescue mission’
I defiantly proclaimed while trying to dismiss what my body was now feeling.

“I don’t feel well” I heard myself tell my husband…
“I’m going on to bed”

“But it’s just 9 o’clock”

“I can’t help it, I’m freezing”

About an hour later I was running a frighteningly odd yet very low-grade fever,
all the while I was violently shaking.

I asked for some Motrin.

And it was just about this very moment in time when my husband began complaining
about having the same symptoms.

This made for a very long, sleepless night of misery.

And yet we were still having to drive over to Atlanta bright and early to rescue the Mayor,
I was more than fretful.

That’s when I noticed how badly my left arm was hurting.

Hummmmmm…

For you see… I’ve failed to share with you that is was on that Monday
(last Monday as you read this today), that both my husband and myself went to get a shot.

A preventative vaccine mind you.

Similar to the preventative flu vaccine our son had gotten.

It was the Shingles shot.

When we went to our pharmacy on Monday Morning, in order to get the shots,
I explained to the pharmacist that we were planning on getting our
13-month-old granddaughter the following day…
so would she be ok with our getting the shot?

“Of course no problem.”

HA!

By Tuesday morning my arm was in full-blown shingles mode.

A burn/bruise-like area the size of a large eggplant covered my arm—
but not at the injection site.
It hurt terribly on a deep level yet was itchy on an up top level.

Eyes now rolling in my head.

My husband had no rash but redness at the injection site along with a
horrific headache, fever and chills.

We struggled to get ourselves up and dressed…
Yet we loaded up the car and headed off to the Mayor’s.

Our son was to be out of town the coming weekend and desperately was trying to
make that still happen—
he stayed home the day we arrived but went on into work the following days
as not to miss any more work.

In the meanwhile, the Mayor came home with us.

They had fretted how she might be feeling.

The Mayor, however, was having none of this as she felt great.
In fact, she was feeling so great, she was actually a live wire—
albeit a live wire with a
very runny and snotty nose.

The next day, I noticed I now had a sore throat and a very cloggy snotty nose
and a headache…
still with my eggplant looking “faux” shingle rash.

The Mayor’s aides were more than puny.
And keeping up with a live wire when feeling puny makes for a tough go.

I called the doctor telling the nurse what was going on.

She calls back the following day.

“Yeah, we’ve heard this shot has had those sorts of reactions…
but as it’s a two-part shot, you’ll need to follow up with the booster
in a couple of months.”

“And get the very viral infection I was trying to avoid in the first place
for a second time??!!”
I incredulously announce rather than ask.
“Thanks but no thanks,” I reply before curtly hanging up.

A week before we picked up the Mayor for her visit, our daughter-n-law informed
her OBGYN that her baby daughter, aka the Mayor,
had gotten what was thought to be Fifth’s Disease.

Such a name comes from the all-knowing medical folks who simply ran out of things
to say when telling everyone
“oh, it’s just a viral infection– you’ll simply have to wait it out”

They decided to give the latest “wait it out” illness a name.
Fifths Disease.

Now if you count Sunday day one in the week…then this disease was named on
Thursday…the fifth day of the week.
But if you’re like most working folks, you count Monday as the first day of the week,
which in turn makes Friday the actual day Fifth’s Disease was named—-
and Lord knows we couldn’t
name a random disease after everyone’s favorite day of the week…
hence the name–Fifth’s Disease.

After having blood drawn then processed, the nurse calls to inform our
daughter-n-law that she is actually immune from Fifth’s Disease.

Who knew one to be immune from a virus?!

Kind of what I was hoping to be from the Shingles.
Immune.

Go figure!

Should the Mayor come down with the Chicken Pox,
knowing I’d eventually be a helping nurse,
I didn’t want to, in turn, get the shingles—
since I had the chicken pox at age 5.

So it turns out that all I had to do was to get the preventative vaccination
and I’d in turn, get the virus.
Kind of like our son and the flu.

Is this beginning to smell of something fishy—
like a little pharmaceutical racket???

Ahh, but I digress.

And so a very rotten puny me headed back to Atlanta Friday,
following the torrential downpours,
in order to take the Mayor home and to spend the weekend with our daughter-n-law while
our not so well son went on out of town as planned.

That had been the plan.

The plan before all the shots made everyone sick.

Our daughter-n-law’s faculty friends were giving her a baby shower for the new baby
(aka the new sheriff in town) on Saturday—
I was to go along with her and the Mayor.

We eventually did—and it was a lovely gathering…
A great bunch of Catholic Parochial school teachers.

Yet all the while… I had a Shingle’s arm and flu-like symptoms from
what our son must have passed along via the Mayor.

Did I mention that we, as in my daughter-n-law, the Mayor and myself
were having to dog sit?
As in a friend of our son’s was leaving his boy dog in their care.
As in an unfixed boy dog that is actually a herding dog…
as in a herding sheep sort of dog?
A herding sheep sort of dog that is oddly being made to be an indoor
pet named Alf.

All the makings of a worst case scenario.

He is a nice enough dog that is wound up like a nervous ninny–
hence the suppressed need to be herding…

And so it fell upon the Mayor to be the chosen item for herding—

despite the Mayor’s wailful protests.


(The Mayor and her watchdog Alf / Julie Cook / 2019)

Think indoor chaos.
Indoor chaos for a sick chief aide and an 8-month pregnant overworked teacher and an impatient
13-month old Mayor.

Note, the Mayor’s actual dog Alice is on a long term vacation due to the arrival of
the herding indoor non-fixed sheepdog.

I was actually supposed to stay until tomorrow, until when our son got home—
however, I was slowly dying and desperately needed to head home as soon as possible
so I could simply crash and burn in the comfort of my own home…

But before I do so… crash and burn that is—
allow me to briefly share with you about our having watched the new Mary Poppins movie
with the Mayor Saturday evening.

Now back in 1964 when the original Mary Poppins movie debuted, I was 5.
My dad, a big kid himself, made certain to take me to see the movie in the theater.

Granted I’ve rewatched the movie throughout the years ever since that year of 1964…
yet I have oddly never been a huge fan.
I liked it well enough as a child but found it to be somewhat odd and boring.

Maybe I just wasn’t a musical loving child at the time.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke…but the movie
didn’t do much for me when I was a little girl.

However, while I was there helping, or more like dying–
whichever way you’d like to look at it,
my daughter-n-law suggested we watch the movie.
She told me she thought I’d love this latest new version.

They had just gotten a new television and I must confess, not being a huge TV
nut like our son or even like my dad had been, I have to admit,
the picture quality was indeed amazing.

And yes I really did enjoy this new version versus that classic version
of my childhood—
Which is really quite something given the fact that I am never a huge fan of the re-makes.

Maybe it was because I was feeling poorly…very poorly.
Maybe it was because Dad will have been gone now 2 years tomorrow.
Maybe it was because there we were in what had been his house, dad’s house, and my house
and now their house…
all the while watching a movie whose story merely picked up 25 years past the original story…
picking up where the original movie’s children were now grown up with their own lives of bluster,
loss, and need—much like my own life.

But Mary Poppins, this enigmatic figure, who mysteriously yet magically appears in the most
timely of times, arriving out of a burst of stormy winds,
all at the singular moment when one is at their most dire times of need—
albeit one who has no idea of the depth of that need…
A time when one is in great need of her eclectic whimsy and almost militaristic regime
of peculiar order…

She arrives for the person who needs to be reminded that nothing is ever truly lost.
She reminds her charges that those things, which at first glance appear to be impossible,
are never really that way at all but are actually possible all along…
for it’s all just a matter of one’s perspective.

And so I found my thoughts dancing over to the idea of our relationship with our loving Father,
the Great I AM…

He who comes not in the earthquake or the fire, or the storm…
but the One who rather comes to us in the stillness of a whisper…
always reminding us that with Him, nothing is ever lost nor is it ever impossible.

So thank you Mary Poppins…maybe it was the fever talking, but thank you for reminding me
that with God, nothing, in particularly me, is ever lost… and no matter what I do,
with God’s help, all things are indeed possible…

Oh, and when “they” tell you to get the shot…run like hell the other way.

But Jesus looked at them and said,
“With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

Matthew 19:26

infinite through finite

In tribulation immediately draw near to God with confidence, and you will receive strength,
enlightenment, and instruction.”

St. John of the Cross

“From the natural point of view, we come to know God from the vestiges of Himself that
He has left in the splendors of the visible universe:
the blazing red sunset, the snow-covered mountain peaks, the graceful flight of a bird,
the breathtakingly magnificent complexity of a single living cell.
On a still more exalted level, we know Him in the loveliness of the saints–
but it remains a knowledge of the infinite through the finite.”
Fr. Thomas Dubay, p.188-89
An Excerpt From
Fire Within

We’re off to see the Mayor…

Grandchildren are the dots that connect the lines from generation to generation.
Lois Wyse


(an unhappy Mayor / Abby Cook / 2019)

Just look at that face.
It’s like I told someone…if looks could kill, everyone in that hair salon would be dead!

Yet the Mayor needed another trim in order to get that hair out of her eyes.
Woobooville needs to be run by a mayor who can clearly see what is set before her…
none of this fuzzy governmental mess for our Mayor!

And so on that note, we’ve scooted over to Atlanta and will be bringing the Mayor home with us
for a couple of days…for some needed R and R while working out of the satellite
Woobooville office.

Between haircuts, time changes and the gearing up for the arrival of a new brother …
the Mayor is just doing her best to hold it together.

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of,
because you know those from whom you learned it,
and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures,
which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.

2 Timothy 3:14-15

Not born at random

“Realize it, my brethren; everyone who breathes,
high and low,
educated and ignorant,
young and old,
man and woman,
has a mission, has a work.
We are not sent into this world for nothing; we are not born at random; . . .
God sees every one of us; He creates every soul, He lodges it in the body,
one by one, for a purpose. He needs, He deigns to need, every one of us.
He has an end for each of us; we are all equal in His sight,
and we are placed in our different ranks and stations,
not to get what we can out of them for ourselves,
but to labor in them for Him.
As Christ has His work, we too have ours;
as He rejoiced to do His work, we must rejoice in ours also.”

Blessed John Henry Newman


(tis the season /Julie Cook /2019)

“When one is given the Spirit of wisdom, one is able to perceive God’s
fingerprints upon the wonders of the world.
One is able to see the pattern God has established in history
(world history, faith history, and even our own personal history).
This should leave us with a sense of comfort,
for it means that life is not chaotic. God has a plan.”

Rev. Jude Winkler, OFM, p.62
An Excerpt From
Daily Meditations with the Holy Spirit

back to the future hilarious but please don’t mess with my clock….

When told the reason for Daylight Saving Time the old Indian said,
“Only a white man would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket and
sew it to the bottom of a blanket and have a longer blanket.”

Author unknown

From Michael Levin, Fox News…

Time travel isn’t just part of the plot line for science fiction books and films.
Like Michael J. Fox in the three “Back to the Future” films,
most of us travel backward and forward in time on a regular basis –
and now we’re doing it again.

At 2 a.m. Sunday, daylight saving time begins.
We “spring forward” one hour – even though the season of spring doesn’t begin until March 20.
And we’ll travel backward in time on at 2 a.m. on Sunday, Nov. 3 when we “fall back” in time.
At least then we’ll be doing so in the right season, since fall begins Sept. 23.

But if Sens. Marco Rubio and Rick Scott, both Florida Republicans, have their way,
our forward and backward travels through time will come to an end.
They filed a bill in the Senate Wednesday to extend daylight saving time for the entire year.
They call it the Sunshine Protection Act.

The senators introduced the bill because the Florida Legislature voted last year
to adopt year-round daylight saving time.
But the change can’t take effect unless Congress changes federal law.

Currently, only Hawaii and Arizona are exempt from the Uniform Time Act enacted in 1966
to make daylight saving time nationwide.

Rubio and Scott said in a joint news release that making daylight saving time
permanent across the nation would reduce a lot of bad things, including:
car crashes, car accidents involving pedestrians, heart attacks,
strokes, seasonal depression, robberies, childhood obesity and energy use.

Hmm … that sure sounds good. If we moved our clocks forward
two hours would we get twice as much benefit?

Rubio introduced the Sunshine Protection Act last year and it went nowhere in Congress.
So maybe he and Scott need to think about rebranding the
legislation this year to help it become law now.

We can start with a new name.
“Sunshine Protection” sounds like the name of a suntan lotion you buy at the drugstore.

The senators need a name the media will go wild over, giving their legislation massive news coverage.
How about: The Yellow New Deal? After all, sunshine is basically yellow,
at least when little kids draw it with crayons.

More importantly, the media write and broadcast news stories every day about
Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s Green New Deal,
an impossible socialist dream that would send our economy into a tailspin
and turn America into another Venezuela.

And if they want their bill to mooooove through Congress,
Rubio and Scott need to emphasize that it will make dairy cows a lot happier,
since they won’t have to adjust to new milking times.
That’s a heck of a lot better than the fate awaiting cows under the Green New Deal,
which calls for getting rid of them because of the global warming caused by –
pardon the expression – cow farts.

The Yellow New Deal would also makes airlines happier,
because they won’t have to keep changing their schedules twice a year.

As far as I can tell, Amtrak doesn’t really operate on a fixed schedule,
so it wouldn’t be affected. Trains just sort of show up from time to time,
so that wouldn’t change.

And if the Yellow New Deal becomes law, millions of Americans will be very happy
not to have to change their clocks twice a year. No one will be embarrassingly
late for church or soccer practice or whatever else they do on Sunday mornings,
so that’s a positive.

On balance, I’m in favor of the bill.

But the senators from Florida need to be careful for what they wish for.
Ocasio-Cortez and her far-left supporters of the Green New Deal are trying
to increase governmental control over the climate, the economy, health care,
and pretty much everything else in our lives.

The Green New Deal is already attracting a lot of criticism due to its hefty cost.
So the radical left may try to add some amendments to the Yellow New Deal
to try to sneak through (or pay for) some of the same provisions they won’t
get if the Green New Deal fails.

The real threat to sunlight, Democrats will surely argue,
is Global Darkening. So they may add an amendment making it illegal for the sun
to go down before 10 p.m. If the other things in the Green New Deal are possible,
so is legislating the actions of the sun.

That extra hours of sunlight, the Democrats can will argue,
would allow workers to work overtime to earn more money,
which would be taxed at a new 100 percent tax rate.
That could pay for a tiny part of the costs for the retrofitting of buildings and
all the other wild ideas in the Green New Deal.

But perhaps the best argument the senators can make for instituting
daylight saving time 365 days a year is that Russia no longer observes it.
That should prove, beyond a doubt, that there was “no collusion”
with the Russians in drawing up the bill springing us forward once and for all.

Who can possibly argue with a plan that would move America forward and leave Russia behind?

heartbeat

Listen to your heart when he’s calling for you
Listen to your heart there’s nothing else you can do

Lyrics to Listen to Your Heart by Roxette

The heartbeat…the rhythm of life…or….when it stops without restarting,
becomes an ending…an ending that results in death.

The stopping of the heart is the sole signal to all present that life has passed from
that of the brief to that of the unending.

And so why might it be important that doctors tell us that a baby in the womb,
a fetus’s heartbeat, can be detected by six weeks old?

Would that mean that life, life as we know it, begins at a mere six weeks following inception?

Just a month and two weeks old inside the womb, a baby’s heart beats on its own.

Making this being a separate entity from that of the mother.
Two as one and one as two…

For centuries prior to modern medical technology, those in the know, be it
physicians or priests would be the official determiners of the passing of a life—
They had the final say as to whether or not there was a detected heartbeat.
Much like the attending physician or the coroner today—
they are the ones who sign off on the official death certificates, they were and remain,
in essence, the harbingers of death.

The notion of a heartbeat determining life dates back for centuries…
going back to the ages long before the birth of Christ.

Gilgamesh, the hero-king in the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh uttered the following lament on
the death of his best friend in 2600 BC:

“I touch his heart but it does not beat at all.”
Gilgamesh, c. 2600 BC

The passage is thought to be the earliest reference to pulse-taking indicating that,
as early as 2600 years BC, man understood that the heart beats and can be palpated.

The National Library of Medicine

Be it ancient Mesopotamia or ancient Egypt, man appears to have long understood the correlation
between the beating of a heart and that of life:

So perhaps it should come as no surprise that the idea of a heartbeat is to be a deciding
factor in regards to a baby in the womb…a heartbeat determining whether or not the unborn
baby is truly a living entity vs that of a simple mishmash of cells and fluid.

Georgia’s House Bill 481, which would ban abortions once a doctor can detect a
heartbeat in the fetus, was put to a vote Thursday evening.

The bill passed… but not without issue.

WSB news reported that:
In a remarkable show of defiance, House Democrats turned their backs on the Acworth lawmaker
sponsoring the so-called heartbeat bill before it was introduced.”
Acworth lawmaker Ed Setzler did continue,
explaining why he believes Georgia should ban abortion after six weeks, instead of 20 weeks,
as under current law.
“It seeks to recognize that the child in the womb that is living distinct from their mother
has a right of life that is worthy of protection,” Seltzer said.

But even as Setzler spoke, some Democrats walked off the floor.

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported that the response of some Democratic members…
“This is what women will be relegated to,” said state Rep. Park Cannon
outside the House chamber.
The Atlanta Democrat held a hanger with the names of Republican supporters
of the bill, hinting at the tool some women used to end their pregnancies
before abortion was legal in the country.
AJC

Today there have been growing protests outside of the state capital with more defiance planned as
opponents and Democrats have pledged to rally in order to fight this bill before
the Governor signs it into law.

My question, because I honestly don’t understand, is why do a majority of Republicans
and Conservatives believe in life while a majority of Democrats and
Progressive Liberals believe in death?

A heartbeat is the telling sign of life.
Why then would anyone argue otherwise?

May we as a Nation choose life…

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my
portion forever.

Psalm 73:26