Thursday, April 30, 2009

I've A Hankerin' . . .

You know what I'm hankerin' for?
Well I've got myself a mighty powerful hankerin'
for my kin folk down south.

And I've a hankerin' to put some south in my mouth!
Just can almost taste them corn fritters,
them fried catfish and hushpuppies, gumbo, swamp chicken and
to wash it all down with some sweet tea.
Oh, and don't forget the beignets!
And no one, and I mean no one
can fry up some eggs and bacon like my MaMa.
No siree!
Lyin' in bed, smellin' those smells
will getcha outta that bed alright.

And I need me some runnin' room.
No fences. No boundaries. Just grass 'n trees.

Seein' my clothes a hangin' on the line,
makes me feel right at home.
And everyone else in the neighborhood knows I'm home too!

So, I said to my pa,
"Pa, let's saddle up the old mare,
and let's git ourselves down to see the kin folk.
It's been too long."

So we are.
We're fixin' to go on a road trip.
Gonna see the folks.
Can't wait!

See ya later!!

P.S. If you're in the Baton Rouge area,
the best southern cookin' you'll find is at
Crawford's Two.
That's my Pa's cousin Kenny's place!

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Just Being Goofy

Sometime last year,
we made this video.

Earl and I drew upon
all of our combined camp experiences,

my sorority years,
and "just being goofy" times
(yes, Earl can be goofy too!),
and put this together for the kids one night.

I've been wanting to put it to DVD for a long time,
and since we're getting ready to head back to LA,
I thought it would be fun to take it with us.

And, I didn't want to buy any more miniDV tapes, but I needed
to tape Emily and David for a school assignment we need to
turn in to the Cerritos Performing Arts Center before we leave.
So, this was as good a time as any to remind myself of how to work
all this technical stuff we own.

And I decided to swallow my pride
and let ya'll see it too.

But beware . . .
everyone wanted to "do it"
so it got kind of long,
but I didn't want to take the time
to do an edited/shortened version.


Thursday, April 09, 2009

Whose Feet?

If you know my children,
can you guess whose feet are in the above picture?

Look carefully . . .

Think hard . . .

Scroll down . . .

Were you right?

Could you guess?

They are Jonathan's.

He loves shoes . . . except his own.
It doesn't matter whose they are,
or what size they are,
or what color.

Now that has got me thinking
on this Good Friday Eve.

Jesus walked among the people
for about 3 years teaching and preaching,
loving and serving,
and doing miracles.

Did they really know Him?
Would I have known Him?

It's fascinating to me
to think of Him walking the streets
of those towns and villages,
perhaps right underneath the window
of some woman who was in her home,
caring for children,
trying to make the food stretch,
fighting the frustration at keeping a neat home
and possibly living out of a burdened heart
for her children's future,
her husband's encouragement, etc. etc.
And Jesus walks right below her window,
unbeknownst to her!
There had to be so many that He never spoke to,
or helped . . .
in spite of the MANY that He did.

Where would I have been?
All His encounters were ordained
by the Maker of the Universe,
before the beginning of time.
The woman by the well.
The Geresene demoniac.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Peter and the other disciples - normal people, living normal lives.
Some knew Him personally,
and some knew Him from a distance . . .
heard Him speak in the temple,
heard Him teach the crowds outside of town . . .
but kept their distance.
Others knew of Him as they heard
"the word on the street".
Where would I have been?

Then there was Palm Sunday.
The crowd hailed Him as a king.
They sang His praises.
But did they really know Him?
How many of those who were there that day,
welcoming Him into Jerusalem,

were there that day,
standing outside Pilate's home
and shouting, "Crucify!"
Where would I have been?
What would I have been crying?

Would I have been able to see past the "pink shoes" . . .
the provision of bread,
the hope of freedom from the Romans,
the healing of my physical body?

Would I have been able to see into His heart . . .
His mission, His passions?

Would I have hailed Him as
the King of all that lives
and remembered the prophecies foretold
of the coming Messiah?

Would I have cried out for His death . . .
out of anger and discouragement,
and frustration
and what He DIDN'T come to do?

Or would I have been given eyes to see
what He HAD to do
and to cry out with a different spirit . . .
(a new heart) . . .
"Crucify Him . . .
He's my only Hope (Jesus, save me!)
May His blood cover me
and my children!"?

I'm thinking . . .
and wrestling with my own sinful tendencies.

But I'm also praising God.
Who has seen fit to put me at just this time in history,
raised me in the church . . .
hearing the truth,

and has opened my eyes
to see past the "pink shoes"
into His heart for His creation.

I've been given eyes to recognize Him . . .
as those two were given on the way to Emmaeus.

Crown Him with many crowns . . . the Lamb who sits upon the throne!!
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