until you assist, you will not know

The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable,
to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.

Ralph Waldo Emerson


(image as seen on a blog)

Last week I wrote a post regarding Bill 481, Georgia’s Heartbeat Bill.

https://cookiecrumbstoliveby.wordpress.com/2019/03/30/beating-still-the-heartbeat-bill-or-the-day-the-sky-was-falling-in-georgia/

Since writing that post, I have read a myriad of other blogs and articles regarding the bill
as well as a promo for the movie Unplanned—a coincidental overlapping of happenings.

But we already know that I don’t believe in coincidence but rather in the workings of the Holy Spirit.

I have not seen the movie Unplanned, but I certainly hope to.
That is if my heart is strong enough.

I found it ironic that on the opening weekend, the Hollywood powerhouse movies
paled in the opening numbers versus the unorthodox Unplanned.

It is a movie based on Abby Johnson, a young director of Planned Parenthood who found herself
having to assist in an abortion—
It was the very option Abby, as well as her organization, had ardently been promoting and providing
for women–and yet it was during that very option of a women’s right that rocked Abby’s world forever.

It was during her assistance in a procedure, a procedure that Abby had ardently supported for
women as a woman’s right to choose…that changed her life forever.

Abby Johnson had been a Planned Parenthood director but had never seen images of
the baby during an abortion.
Today, she was pitching in to help the surgeon perform the procedure by manning the ultrasound.

What she saw made her cry.
The baby wriggled and tried to escape the vacuum.

“They always do,” the doctor deadpanned.
(from the movie Unplanned)

The day prior to reading the promo for the movie, I saw the image I’ve posted above.

A political cartoon of sorts…considered impractical by many …
yet not so far fetched as the hardened heart would imagine.

The doctor’s remark to Abby during the abortion procedure was correct—
a baby who is being aborted, fights for life.
They do not simply succumb to a suction, a burning painful saline solution or
a shredding scalpel.

The baby will fight to “get away”.

The baby wants to remain and wants to live.

It is not a logical thought process but more of a natural reactionary process.
When threatened with termination, a fetus will squirm, wiggle and move away from the ‘threat’
in order to survive.

And so it is with this in mind that I find myself more and more incensed by the likes
of an Alyssa Milano—the very vocal actress who is leading the charge for Hollywood to
boycott Georgia for allowing such a bill to become a law.

I read an article which reported how Milano had presented a petition to Georgia’s lawmakers
with 40 signatures threatening to boycott Georgia should Bill 481 become law.

Well, since the bill has passed both sides of Georgia’s governing body and has been
sent to the Governor’s desk for his signature, signing it into law,
Milano quickly made her way to the State Capital
where she presented a lawmaker with her concern.

The lawmaker calmly asked her in which district was she living and casting her votes.
Milano replied that she does not live in Georgia but was merely in the state to shoot scenes
for her latest television series…
the lawmaker turned and walked away.

The fact that an actress who calls California home comes to Georgia, insisting that Georgia
amends its laws to suit her political agenda, is in a word, assinine.

I have a great deal to say soon about abortion, adoption, life, and death…but the time
is not right as I am still walking a journey that is not yet complete but I do have
one thing to say to those women who clamor that abortion is a woman’s right.
That abortion is not to be an issue determined by male lawmakers as they are not women…

Milano and her ilk clamor that it is not “right” for male lawmakers to make
decisions for women and their bodies.

Last I checked female lawmakers were voting as well—

I don’t give a damn about a male lawmaker voting for, passing and signing a bill into law
that is insidiously cloaked as some sort of sacred women’s issue when in actuality
it is an issue of a man and women making a baby, a baby that is a by-product,
more often than not, of lust and sex….
plain and simple.

An innocent by-product, mind you, of poor decisions and selfish decisions…

And no we’re not talking about the smaller percentage of rape and other issues but
the majority of abortions as by-products of poor decision making and mere mistakes.

Who may I ask is standing up and voting for the vulnerable by-products?

It is not a matter of rights or timing or practicality or convenience.

To abort a baby is an act of murder.

And what I have to say to Alyssa Milano and her small army of militant feminists…
Go work in the “procedure” room—watch the ultrasounds, listen to the heartbeat.
You, Ms. Milao, have two children if I’m not mistaken…
would you happily give them over to death today?
I don’t think so.
So would you have given them over to death before they were born?

Until you perform an abortion, sit in that room, look at what is removed…
until you have that blood on your hands, you then tell me that you wholeheartedly
support murder.

Being adopted has always been a keen reason as to my intense aversion to abortion…
but I think having become a grandmother has only heightened that aversion.

This past year, I have marveled over, first, watching this tiny life emerge, then grow,
and change while learning…learning to smile, roll, hold, sit, stand, hurt, cry, laugh,
…I hold her and I wonder how anyone could have merely cast a death sentence over her.

Until you personally kill, then you let me know how you wish to tell
others how to vote.

“Whoever takes a human life shall surely be put to death.
Leviticus 24:17

hail to the chief, chieftain or is it chieftess???

Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

I long to accomplish a great and noble task,
but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.

Helen Keller


(a visit from the Mayor / Julie Cook / 2018)

And you thought I was going to write about President Bush again didn’t you??
Eh???

Well, whereas I am sharing about a visit from a commander and chief…
this particular commander and chief is more like a chieftess…
or whatever the female equivalent would be for chief.

Here we see the Mayor delightfully happy to be visiting with her constituents here
in the satellite Woobooville office. She happily surprised her “people”…
that being Polly Possum, Moe the Moose, lambie pie the sheep along with Percy and Peaches,
the real live cats who oddly disappear whenever the Mayor makes a visit.

And one might notice that the Mayor is having a slight hair issue with a strand of bangs that
nearly reaches to her chin. Her aides are constantly having to bush the hair from her face
lest she have a bit of a fit while rubbing her eyes red.

So with that being said…the Mayor had her first visit to a salon…note, that is not a saloon…
little politicians must make certain things very clear…but we digress…
It was time to have a bit of a trim.

And I might just add that a for a 10 month old, a trim may not be the most even or
neatest of trims…

And thus I am sorry to report that one of her chief aides is very disappointed with the
new little dutch-girl-pageboy look…
that aide being her dad…
And so it begins…that slow progression of growing up
that seems to tugs at the daddy’s heart most of all…

the very apprehensive before image

The after dutch little girl look

the yielding in transition

“The wise man in the storm prays to God,
not for safety from danger,
but deliverance from fear”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Life is pleasant.
Death is peaceful.
It’s the transition that’s troublesome.”

Isaac Asimov


(a blurry and quickly snapped picture of a deer crossing a train track while I was
craning my neck out the window of a moving car / Julie Cook / 2017)

Driving home last evening, as we were crossing over a train track, I was glancing rather
forlornly out my window when I saw the lone deer smartly looking left and right before
making her own journey across the tracks.

Lots of thoughts raced through my mind as I silently asked God to make certain she crossed safely.

Like a small stone cast into the quiet still waters of some hidden little pond, whose
resulting ripples spread outward wider and wider until the entire once still surface is
now a reverberating boiling roll, so too is much of my current corner of the world.

Greif has yet been allowed to surface, let alone run its course…
so the physical body now bears the brunt.

Yet in the roiling boil of that which is often out of our control
comes a wizened knowledge, albeit seemingly threatened to be overshadowed
by the tumult…
that there is always something Other Than…
and it is in that Other that I will yield….

But above all preserve peace of heart.
This is more valuable than any treasure.
In order to preserve, there is nothing more useful than renouncing
your own will and substituting for it the will of the divine heart.
In this way His will can carry out for us whatever contributes to His glory,
and we will be happy to be his subjects and to trust entirely in Him.

St Margaret Mary Alacoque

It is the Lord who goes before you.
He will be with you;
he will not leave you or forsake you.
Do not fear or be dismayed.”

Deuteronomy 31:8

fractured

“You look closely enough,
you’ll find that everything has a weak spot where it can break,
sooner or later.”

Anthony Hopkins

Fractures well cured make us more strong.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

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(the culprit to the fractured windshield / Julie Cook / 2016)

The phone rang early…
it was before 8 and I was in the shower.
Well actually both phones were ringing at once…my cell phone and the good ol landline.
That’s when you know it’s bad…ringing phones in stereo.

Our life has been rather topsy turvy as of late so phones ringing, really before one expects, tends to send me automatically into mobilizing the troops, manning the torpedoes and battening down the hatches mode.

Dripping wet while frantically grabbing a towel I see that the caregiver is on one phone and Dad is on another. For just the slightest millisecond I debate…hummmmm, get back in the shower and pretend life is golden or bite the bullet and answer the damn phones….

Long story short—how is still unclear, but they both fell—-into one another, which is still a bit unclear, and both were down for the count.
Dad, the turtle of the two—when on his back isn’t getting up without help.
Miraculously however, he did manage to get up and get to the door to let the frantic caregiver in who had just arrived for the day.
My stepmother however…she was truly down for the count and was not getting up.

“Do I call the ambulance????” the caregiver asks in one ear as Dad wants to know if he needs to push the life alert button he wears religiously around his neck in my other ear.
Somewhere in my brain I’m thinking both of these people are in the same room, why are they both calling me when I think one of them could handle calling while the other one panics?!
Well since I’m a good hour and a half away, still wringing wet, I’m going with 911.

The short end of this tale is that my stepmother “fractured” her wrist and is in cast and sling.
Dad is still confused as to how “this arm,” as he points to his right arm, came around and knocked into my stepmother, sending her and him to the ground.

“That’s your story Dad and you’re sticking to it??” I flatly inquire.

My suspicion is Dad, at 5 feet nine inches and 185 lbs, got up out of his chair, turned, lost his balance and fell into her–all 5 feet 1 inches and 98 pounds worth.

After racing (an oxymoron word) to Atlanta for the second time this week, dealing with this latest ambulance ride and ER visit, where I am certain they now know my stepmother by name, I got everything and everyone settled and readied for the ride back home… as deja vu is the current theme with me and Atlanta.
I tell Dad that I think we need to consider 24 hour care and or they will have to move to a facility that can look after them 24/7.
He vehemently balked at that idea…

Back in the car and back on the interstate for the umpteenth time this week, I didn’t see it or even hear it…yet there it was…a strange black line on my windshield..
“What the….”
Thinking maybe a piece of pine straw was stuck on the windshield, I watch the pine straw snake it’s way along my windshield.

The pine straw was no longer that and my fear was confirmed… my windshield was indeed “fractured”

Great.

A fractured stepmother and a fractured windshield…..

DSCN3219
(must have been a Ga Tech rock as it hit right at the UGA sticker)

The good thing is that she will heal, allbeit slowly as 88 year old bones are brittle, fragile and slow to grow back…

I read on an orthopedic page that…

“Broken bone ends heal by “knitting” back together with new bone being formed around the edge of the broken parts.”

Which mind you is pretty darn cool—that our broken bones can regenerate.

My windshield, for a hefty little price, can also be miraculously repaired–as the glass folks are scheduled to come out and replace it tomorrow.

As I continue to contemplate this day’s whole fractured theme, and how we have recently dealt with a deeper fracture than that….
there are those fractures of the physical that run in and out of our lives…
I marvel over the Master Physician and His ability to heal all of the fractures of our lives—
those outward appearing breaks as well as those unseen internal breaks.

It’s just a matter of asking for His tender care…as well as allowing Him access to our “breaks”

Here’s to our regenerated healing…..

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he saved them from their distress.
He sent out his word and healed them;
he rescued them from the grave.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love
and his wonderful deeds for mankind.

Psalm 107:19-21

Change of plans

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
Allen Saunders

DSCN1978
(marker in the Methodist Cemetery, The Great Smokey Mts Natl. Park, Cades Cove, TN / quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson / Julie Cook / 2015)

Over this past weekend, while I was busying myself with my slight, albeit brief, change in directions, Life thought better of it all and decided a change of plans was more appropriately in order.

There is a small crisis of Life taking place…involving my dad and stepmother.
Such that my time here may be somewhat limited and or greatly impeded.

So forgive my dipping in and out as it were, demonstrating a true lack of consistency in blogland, while I try to deal with Life in Atlanta. Working on getting one out of the hospital while keeping the other one from going to pieces—

Greatly appreciating all good thoughts and prayers!!!

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(seeking the unknown path / The Great Smokey Mts Natl. Park, Cades Cove, TN/ Julie Cook / 2015)

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
Psalm 32:8

When the scuppernongs hang heavy

“We are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
― Carson McCullers

“The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong.”

Elinor Wylie

DSC02510
(wild growing scuppernongs after a morning rain / Troup Co, Ga / Julie Cook / 2015)

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(wild scuppernongs hang high in the trees / Troup Co, Ga / Julie Cook / 2015)

What is your trigger—that certain thing, person or place. . .
when seen, heard or tasted. . .transports you to a different time, a different place?
That single something that magically erases the years and lightens your step?

Is it a smell, a perfume, a scent. . .
Perhaps the sound of bells ringing, children laughing or birds singing. . .
Maybe it’s the sight of a balloon, a leaf gently blowing in the breeze. . .
or maybe, just maybe. . .
it’s the sight of the scuppernongs hanging heavy on the vine. . .

Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
Retrieve the loss of me and mine!
Vine for vine be antidote,
And the grape requite the lote!
Haste to cure the old despair,—
Reason in Nature’s lotus drenched,
The memory of ages quenched;
Give them again to shine;
Let wine repair what this undid;
And where the infection slid,
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,
Recut the aged prints,
And write my old adventures with the pen
Which on the first day drew,
Upon the tablets blue,
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Bacchus
line 50-65

DSC02511
(wild scuppernongs / Troup Co, Ga / Julie Cook / 2015)

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(wild scuppernongs / Troup Co, Ga / Julie Cook / 2015)

center stage

“All the world’s a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.”
Seán O’Casey

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

DSC02259
(stage lights , Grand Ole Opry / Julie Cook / 2015)

There are no lights,
no cameras,
no backup singers,
no band,
no wardrobe staff,
no makeup artists,
no paying audience,
no practicing,
no rehearsals,
no experience. . .
Yet we all must climb up on a variety of stages each and every day. . .

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(Center stage, the Ryman Auditorium / Nashville, TN / Julie Cook / 2015

No role is rehearsed as it is always to be a live performance.
There are no cuts, no retakes, no adjustments, no alterations. . .
No sound crew who can adjust the volume or output
what happens, happens. . .good or bad.

DSC02260
(a crowded Grand Ole Opry / Julie Cook / 2015)

We take center stage as
parent,
spouse,
child,
sibling,
friend,
employee,
employer,
teammate,
leader,
follower. . .

Our role is defined but our performance remains questionable.
Will we pull it off?
Will we be convincing,
engaging,
commanding,
believable. . . ?

Stage presence, confidence, passion, enthusiasm, knowledge, authority. . .
each laced with humility and sincerity are imperative for success.
For our audience is more or less captive and more often times than not, hostile

We may not always feel our best, look our best or be our best, but those watching are not concerned with such- – –
They’ve come to expect, yay demand, the very best.

Yet the question remains. . .what is to be our greatest role, our greatest performance
And will we be ready when we take the stage. . .

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(Carrie Underwood/ Grand Ole Opry / Nashville, TN / Julie Cook / 2015)

You will be his witness to all people of what you have seen and heard.
Acts 22:15