Signature marks

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter;
we are all the work of your hand.

Isaiah 64:8

Russian photographer Alexey Kljatov has devised a clever way to bring the wonder
of macro photography to the minuscule world of snowflakes. Using a homemade rig comprised
of a working camera lens, a wooden board, some screws and old camera parts, Kljatov captures the breathtaking intricacies of snow, six-sided symmetry and all.
(Huffpost)

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/03/alexey-kljatov_n_4373888.html

Some days an idea for a post just kind of pops into my head.

It’s more or less like a random thought that just appears out of nowhere.

The proverbial wee small voice that speaks out of the darkness bringing
a notion into clarity.

I call it the Holy Spirit…others call it a coincidence, the subconscious or a dream
that woke up…

For me, it’s not some sort of audible voice booming down from the mountain top,
rather it’s just a thought that enters into the consciousness and makes its presence known.

So I tend to turn these pop-ups over, mulling and pondering while trying to figure a sharable angle.

I mentally formulate words and a sort of sequence and flow to this ‘out of the blue’ thought.

And so one day last week, it was the notion of our creation of uniqueness and individuality,
by the hands of God, which spoke rather loud and clear…
but more importantly, it was that of His signature marks.

Psalm 139 came into focus as I was ruminating over this idea…
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

(Psalm 139:3-6)

We are each individual and unique in His eyes.
We are each capable of having a very unique and personal relationship with Him.
Not so much the collective mass of humanity, but He is very interested in each one of
us individually.

So I thought of the opening verse to this post…
about how we have been compared to as the clay as God is the potter.
He works us and molds us uniquely with His hands.

If you’ve ever worked with clay…say making something by hand or throwing a pot on the wheel,
you will notice that your fingerprints (or those of the potter) will actually dry in the clay.
Fire the piece in a kiln and those individual fingerprints become apart of the pottery.

Signature marks.

I can remember a particular episode of M.A.S.H. when Hawkeye took off rather foolheartedly
to the front line in order to work the triage unit…all unbeknownst to Colonel Potter.
The triage units (for the Korean War which was what M.A.S.H. was based on) were mostly
comprised of exhausted and overworked medics who would frantically work to patch up
the wounded as best they could before transporting the wounded to a MASH unit for more
advanced surgeries, stabilizing and a bit of recovery before sending them to,
in this case, Tokyo before heading stateside or… in some cases patching them
up only to send them back to the battle lines.

During this particular episode, the shelling was so fierce and the 4077 had lost
all radio contact with the front lines.
B.J. and Colonel Potter were both worried sick about Hawkeye and his survival
not to mention that they were now short a surgeon.

As the transports began to arrive at the 4077th, B.J. and company began the hours of surgery
on the wounded who were pouring in…
B.J. was up to his elbows inside some kids guts, working on putting this kid back together,
when he joyously exclaimed that Hawkeye was indeed alive and well because this particular
kid, who had been first quickly stitched up on the front, was stiched up by Hawkeye.
B.J. knew this because he knew Hawkeye’s signature stitchery.
As it seems surgeons can have their own unique way of sewing and splicing us back together.

Their own signature marks.

My husband who is a watchmaker by trade can most often work on a clock and
actually be able to tell how many times and when the last time the clock
had been worked on.

A watch/clock repairman will leave a small unique mark scratched on the inside back metal
plate covering of the clock.
It’s a way of letting future watchmakers know when, where and how a clock was worked on.

Signature marks.

And so the idea of signature marks became apparent that this was the “thought”
I was to work out and later share…here.

We’ve got God’s fingerprints all over us.
We are known, by Him, inside and out.
Intimately.

But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.
Matthew 10:30

And so as I contemplated what sort of image I needed to share which somehow reflected
this notion of God’s unique signature which in turn makes each of us unique…
the thought of snowflakes came to mind.

We all know that snowflakes are all different…meaning no individual snowflake is the same.
They are not cookie cut from some sort of mold or limited to a handful of shapes or patterns.

I found this story on HuffPost about a Russian photographer who has figured out a way of
capturing with hyperfocus macro images of snowflakes.

I looked at these images and was amazed by the intricate artistic details of each of these tiny
ice crystals.
They each look like tiny glass sculptures of a variety of shapes, complete with designs
that appear to be comprised of tiny perfect hearts, flowers, arrows, feathers…
each one being symmetrical, equal, balanced…all the components and elements of what
makes art, art…

So if you think it’s a random fluke of nature that snowflakes can look like these tiny pieces
of amazing design and yet have no connection to something Divine or of that which
is greater than man himself…then I think you need to consider the idea of signature marks.

“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand,
measured heaven with a span and calculated the dust of the earth in a measure?
Weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?”

Isaiah 40:12

Sleep Deprivation or brainwashing

“My schooling not only failed to teach me what it professed to be teaching,
but prevented me from being educated to an extent which infuriates me when I think of
all I might have learned at home by myself.”

George Bernard Shaw


(Oh to sleep like a new grandbaby / Julie Cook / 2018)

The older I’ve become the more I’ve found that the notion of a precious night’s sleep
is not only alluding me but has become a fleeting fancy.
Meaning, it just seems to be a dream rather than a reality.

And how poetic that the inability to sleep should be but a dream…

Being able to finally fall into a bed of something that is somewhat welcoming and inviting–
providing a bit of respite and a place to temporarily sever the maddening ties of the day…
is the hope and desire of most human beings.
For we were wired to rest and to sleep—a time period given us in order to repair
and replenish ourselves.

Yet as we age, falling asleep no longer comes readily.
Staying asleep seems impossible… so much so that waking is a near depressing event as in
it signals another passing night of weary failure.
They chalk it up to age, stress, hormones and life…
sigh…

Enter the new grandchild.

As all new parents and grandparents know,
tending to a new baby that has decided to be an owl,
meaning that said newborn prefers to sleep during the day while choosing to be wide-eyed
at night, is an exhausting affair for all involved but the new babe.

A sleep-deprived brain has been compared to the same as if a person is intoxicated.

Poor choices, poor coordination, poor processing…
A dangerous mix.

Many an enemy combatant has opted to use sleep deprivation as a means of “torture” on their
captured prisoners in order to break the will while hoping to glean a few loose lip secrets.

So today, in a bleary-eyed state, when I read the latest offering by the renegade Anglican
bishop Gavin Ashenden regarding cultural brainwashing, it reminded me of my own sleep-deprived state.

In such a weakened state of brain fog and fatigue, it’s really quite easy to yield or to succumb
or to simply give in to all sorts of notions…

Anything anyone says we readily agree to, adhere to or adopt as our own as we are simply too tired,
too weak, too lacking…to resist.

So it would behove us, the Faithful, to be vigilant and to hold fast to our faith as the
current cultural trend is to brainwash the masses into accepting and eventually believing
a wealth of lies and falsehoods…

The following is an excerpt of the Bishop’s latest take on the current leanings of brainwashing
a gullible society…brainwashing both Believer and non-believer into accepting that which runs
counter to the natural and Holy intentions of a Divine Creator…

“The death of Billy Graham reminded me of how terrified I had once been of
being brainwashed.

I remember deciding to go on a quest to discover if Christianity was true or not and walking
into an Anglican Cathedral to hear an evangelist talk about Jesus.
His day job was being a vicar in York.
He wanted to help people examine who Jesus actually claimed to be.

“What if they try to brainwash me” I found myself thinking?
Someone, at some time, had managed to plant that thought in my head and it had stuck.

What I didn’t know was that these mild Anglicans were the last people on earth to want to
do any brainwashing, but that other people and other ideologies would be along shortly
who would be much more likely to try.”

In Bristol this week, some parents fought back against the brainwashing of their children
in infant school. The national campaign to destabilise childrens’ understanding of their
own sexuality has now reached down deep into our childrens’ childhoods.
Drag queens have been recruited to do workshops on gender identity for our 5-10-year-olds.
‘Diversity’ is the propaganda cover mantra.
Confusion is what the parents fear.

Christianity- the antidote to cultural brainwashing.

‘So remember what you have received and heard;
and keep it, and repent Therefore if you do not wake up,
I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come to you.
Revelation 3:3

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

RSCN3222
(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

lost between the lines

DSCN0711
(leaded bullseye glass, Cobh, Co Cork, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015)

My glasses broke.
In more places than one….
They are unrepairable and I am in desperate need of being able to see…clearly.

I did however finally manage to find time for an appointment,
which has come none too soon as
I have considered resorting to adding some super glue and or a little duct tape…
My husband, the jeweler who fixes all types of glasses all the time,
has flatly observed that mine are beyond his help…

In about a week I should have a new pair…
A new pair that will not be hanging on by a prayer.
A pair that will free me from tilting my head and listing dangerously too far to the right…
Plus I’m hoping that everything will be much more clear and focused….

If seeing clearly was only so simple for this world of ours…

If this misguided, skewed, and oh so lost world in which we live…
could simply slap on a pair of super corrected glasses…
then maybe, just maybe, things would come into focus…
And that which has become grey, fuzzy and blurred beyond recognition, would be readily and easily discerned.

Instead we are living in a world, a society and a culture that is confused…
As it knows not as to whether it is coming or going…
for we use to know…
right from wrong…
good from bad…
boys from girls…
girls from boys…
light from dark…
up from down…
too much from too little
respect from disrespect
moderate from extreme
kindness from hate
Hope from despair
Truth from lies
God’s word from no word…

for in this blurry, fuzzy, lack of clarity world…
the word of God has been lost between the lines….

“‘But if they will confess their sins and the sins of their ancestors—their unfaithfulness and their hostility toward me, 41 which made me hostile toward them so that I sent them into the land of their enemies—then when their uncircumcised hearts are humbled and they pay for their sin, 42 I will remember my covenant with Jacob and my covenant with Isaac and my covenant with Abraham, and I will remember the land.
Leviticus 26:40-42