HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

  Events we like to refer to as catastrophic, (we are ripe with melodrama) have forced 2010 to be a totally sucky year! Things beyond our control have transpired to cause us to seek high cliffs. We won’t do it. Fret not, (if you even are) but it has been the weirdest year since we peed our pants in the lunch line in 4^th grade because the teacher would not let us go. HAHA!!! After our mother got through with her; she not only let us go, she checked on us several times a day, offered us suckers and stopped smacking the back of our hand with a ruler! Boo-Yah!!!!!!   Here is the deal; we have had so many people say to us that 2010 was terrible for them or their loved ones. With tragedies, and deaths and hurricanes and pestilence and mountains of junk mail and gum disease and Reality Television that makes us want to rip our own ears off and stuff them in our purse just so we don’t even have to hear about them on commercials. Fortunately, they made this thing called a ‘mute button’ on the remote (or “remuter” as our youngest has always called it!) which we have almost worn out. If we ever disappear, and they need DNA to identify us, just check the mute button on the remote, it will be covered in it.
   Plus, we have found out that people don’t mean to be whiners, but 99.9% of us are. (Dept. of Random Figures) That’s what kept the Israelites wandering around in the desert for 40 years, you know! It should all be about counting our blessings. Yes it should. And we do that too. We spend time counting blessings and thanking God. We journal our thanks too, we also journal all of our craziness! What our family does with the journal volumes we have amassed after we are gone is their own problem…… Journals that really probably will only be of interest to our self and God, and maybe they even bore God…who knows?
     So then the fam will be torn. They will feel guilty if they throw them away. Besides what if someone finds them in the trash and learns what a true nut their mother was???Oh the humanity! Well, they could burn them, but that feels too pagan…like a pagan rite or a goddess ritual. They would like to avoid all lightning bolts so, of course that will stop them cold.
   Well, you know they will end up stacked away in the attic,(the journals , not the family) and if the world should continue to turn then great,great,great grandchildren will find them and ask; A.) Why was great, great, great Noni such a Loon, and B.) What exactly is cursive? Are we reading a foreign language? Because, by then cursive will be like hieroglyphics or eight-tracks…..completely irrelevant. “Daddy, they will ask our great, great grandson, why didn’t she just spend time in the groove-a-tron when she felt sad? Why did she record her feelings? Why didn’t she just go have her weekly cerebral-wash like everyone else?” Then he will have to explain that all we had were rudimentary tools at this point. Things called books, even empty ones to write absolute drivel in! And sticks with lead, and people still did that and they hooked all their letters together because they were taught to, and somehow it seemed faster, and of course, they were fundamentally stupid.
    Let’s see, where the heck were we? Oh yeah, 2010 blowing like a hurricane and, or, sucking like a tornado. Many have experienced this. Not everyone. We see people reporting great blessings and strokes of “luck” on line….We are truly happy for them when we read about it. Really. Seriously. Because it is such a hopeful, wonderful thing; even that person in school who whacked us repeatedly in the legs with her hockey stick during P.E. field hockey games is prospering. We hear she just acquired another land grab! Good for her. May her stick proudly wave!
   But for those of us who have had a wee-bit-o struggle in the big 2010…we are lurching toward 2011 like a thirsty man in the desert, heading toward the BIG oasis. As though, it held the secrets of the Universe, as though we were going to get a knock on the door from Publisher’s Clearing House immediately after the first of the year. As though great waves of peace and prosperity, and all the crap the politicians promised are really going to happen! YAY! Who’s ready to only pay $4.25 a year in taxes, and get several large breaks for owning Poodles??? We are! We are! Even though we own no poodles, we would purchase several, or borrow our mother’s. They are old and they smell, but they have lovely little bows. (The poodles, not our parents…)
     2011, the year of possibilities! The year when ANY thing could happen. Any GOOD thing!!! Grown children could begin to enjoy their lives and do things you wish to report on CNN. Credit Card companies could call and tell you that since you have been such a faithful (aka/stupid) customer, they are going to wipe out your balance to zero! What? Shudd-up! It could happen!
     And, all other nations could not only forgive us all our debts, BUT they could pay us back what they owe us too, thus causing a surplus. Government servants; as in all of our law-makers would then actually have the wisdom to use those funds wisely. This would put us in the black for the next century causing the world to once again fear us as the Super Power we are; and stop trying to blow us up all the time.
     But seriously, why doesn’t everyone just forgive everyone’s debt? How does America owe its own self money? WTHeck……How stupid is that? If we owed our own self a bunch of money, we would just say, “Hey, Tonya, don’t worry about it, we forgive ya, just let it go!” to which we would reply, “Gasp! You don’t mean it! Why, thank you!” We know America owes everybody and their brother, but they owe us too! Just do one great big ol’ write off, and Voila! Just like that… Problem solved.
   Enough of that. We have like; fitty more fabulous ideas that could change the course of the Nation’s financial outcome, and stimulate the economy to such a degree that it would need giant doses of Ritalin just to keep from reading FDIC backwards. But we will keep it to our self; as most people would rather have root-canal than discuss the economy, and by ‘most people’ we mean us.
    Anyway, so as we head into the New Year let’s let all the 2010 crud go! Let’s also pick our battles carefully and just lay down the sword whenever possible. Let’s plant flowers as soon as we can hack through the frozen ground without a jackhammer. Let’s turn our faces to the sun, the minute we spot any, and soak up all that vitamin D-3. It’s the big thing. It is supposed to give us dopamine and serotonin and make our endorphins swim through our bodies like pods of happy dolphins! Ignore the 45-SPF sunscreen, it is passé.
     Oh, yes, we hold out great hopes for 2011! Not in the New-Agey, Harmonic-Convergence, tape crystals to your Chakras kind of way, but in the; “Dearest Lord, please send good things, please shine upon us and touch our hearts. Please fill us with your joy, because it is our strength…” Like that! Happy New Year everybody! The wish could not be more heart-felt. In 2011 may all your roses bloom and may all your bread land butter-side-up!  Tonya Willman ©2010

*~12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS~* *disgruntled housewife version*

On the First day of Christmas my true love sent to me
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.
On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a snuggie.

On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Eight brats a-sulking
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Nine plumbers plumbing
Eight brats a-sulking
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Ten toe-nail clippers
Nine plumbers plumbing
Eight brats a-sulking
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten toe-nail clippers
Nine plumbers plumbing
Eight brats a-sulking
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Twelve Barca- loungers
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten toe-nail clippers
Nine plumbers plumbing
Eight brats a-sulking
Seven Fords a-leaking
Six asses braying
Five old bat wings
Four collie turds
Three shots of gin
Two rubber gloves and
A steam-mop and a Snuggie.
Tonya Willman ©2010

The Essence: “Silver and Gold, have I none…”

Here is the Essence of "Merry Christmas".....1 Now Peter and John went up together to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. 2 And a certain man lame from his mother’s womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms from those who entered the temple; 3 who, seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, asked for alms. 4 And fixing his eyes on him, with John, Peter said, “Look at us.” 5 So he gave them his attention, expecting to receive something from them. 6 Then Peter said,"Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.” 7 And he took him by the right hand and lifted him up, and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength. 8 So he, leaping up, stood and walked and entered the temple with them—walking, leaping, and praising God. 9 And all the people saw him walking and praising God. 10 Then they knew that it was he who sat begging alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him. Acts 3:1-10 (emphasis mine) 

     This passage speaks so much about how we have come to look at Christmas, and what the true meaning actually is. We have come to see it as all about silver and gold. Madly dashing. Hustling and bustling….And commercials that you are so sick of you want to pull and “Elvis” and shoot out the screen, so it is a very good thing you do not own an actual handgun. Thinking pitiful thoughts like: how? How can I cover everybody I need to cover on what I can afford??? How will they know I love them? How will they know I care?...silver and gold I do not have...
     The absurdity of it must make Jesus weep. Did I fall for it myself this year? Of course I did. I tried not to, but I still did it a little bit. But; I remember clearly standing in an aisle in Target one year with only a certain amount of money in my purse and a long list. I remember crying right there in the aisle. I felt hopeless. Hopeless! How absurd is that??? I have all of the gifts, blessings and riches of my Father’s house at my disposal. I can share the same grace and blessings and power of Christ that Peter and John shared in the scriptures above. The retailers, the jewelers, the car companies, the new-fangled high-tech gadget makers, the marketers; they would all have us believe that they supply the wonder. But there is NO competition. “They were filled with wonder and amazement.”(verse 10)….. Hey Madison Avenue, try topping that!
    “Silver and gold I do not have.” But I give you love. And I share with you that the one whose birth we are (supposed to be) celebrating is real. He changes lives. He heals and restores. He loves you. Oh, how He loves you. THAT is the gift. That is the gift He brought to us. We worship Him as the Christ Child in this season, but please remember who He grew up to be and who He is. You don’t know? Are you unsure? Read His word and find out (start with the gospels) who is He really…..
   Well…I want to leave you with one more present. Jesus made the most radical statement in all of history (lots and lots of people ignore it if they can) He said:” I am the Way the Truth and the Life, and NO ONE comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6 (all emphasis mine)
     So when we read this we can know that He is not just “a good man” or “a good teacher” as so many claim. Because that is NOT what He claimed. These are the most powerful words ever spoken. So, He is either; mad, a liar, or He is telling the truth. You must decide. Who did the Christ Child become? If He was either mad, or a liar why are you celebrating Him? If He is the Way, the Truth and the Life…then I am extending the greatest gift He gave…… to you! It doesn’t have a bow, but it has bliss, it doesn’t cost me or you a thing, but it cost Him everything. It doesn’t sit under a sparkly tree, but He shed his blood to take our punishment on a tree. It doesn’t have a return receipt. His gift is for all of eternity; you can rest in it, rely upon it and draw peace from it. It has thousands of uses, and it even comes with a beautifully bound handbook that the God of the Universe wrote… (66 books over 1500 years, over 40 authors, *** from many walks of life (i.e. - kings, peasants, philosophers, fishermen, poets, statesmen, scholars)IN different places (i.e. - wilderness, dungeon, palaces)AT different times (i.e. - war, peace)IN different moods (i.e. - heights of joy, depths of despair)ON three continents (Asia, Africa, and Europe)IN three languages (Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek)***  Each book dovetailing with the next. Each book inspired and God breathed so that they flow together to tell the story of eternity, and your place in it.)How handy is that? Want to know more? Ask Jesus Christ to reveal Himself to you, talk to a Christian friend or email me, I would love to talk to you. OR be all kinds of BOLD and ask Him to forgive your sins and be your Savior right now! Talk about a NEW YEAR!
Merry Christmas!!!
Tonya Willman ©2010
Check out some of these great facts at:
***http://www.allaboutgod.com/
      http://www.christiananswers.net/
      http://www.wayofthemaster.com/                                                         

Thank You

As I am building this new site, I realize that all of my slide shows are in sync......hmmm. I like the little slide shows. I can't always control every image that goes into the theme, but no matter. I like all the gadgets and gizmos. I found some more, but they put ads on them. Pffft! So off they came!
It is late and I am sleepily waiting for a pc scan to finish up....(shudd-up all you MAC users!) but I am thinking about all of you out there tonight. My dear friends, old and new. Gold and silver. You are so lovely and shining in my life. I was thinking that I would get myself a 'sad' light this winter because it depresses me so. But I do not believe I will need one. I think the Lord has put you all into my life as my "Sad" light. You just shine to me. Some of you make me laugh so hard I am considering my first depends purchase. And some of you are so profound you make me stand in awe. And then, of course some are both, and you never know when it's coming.
It is like when the light filters down through the trees in the summer, and the breezes bathe me with the scent of the roses and the lilacs. For the first winter in a long time it is not as hard! That is really something. And, I believe that each one of you (and you know who you are) has made that difference. Don't ever think that God does not use your beautiful souls in a million ways!
I know that people joke about Facebook and the other social networking sites, but I believe that they can be used for amazing purposes. The rest we will just have to ignore! (and you know who you are...) *snort*
As a dear friend of mine would say, I love you all to the moon and back. Thank you for supporting this blog. Thank you for making the snow and the slush and the slop easier. If I sit really still and close my eyes...I can feel the golden warmth from each of you flowing around me like a gift from God.

The Return Of The Mad Clicker!

Hello my Fellow Babies! I iz not chompy no more!! My blog iz back, I iz bouncy!!! Seriously, Oh my dear! What a trial, but what a learning experience. Here is what I have learned:
1. I don’t need no stinking ads! I barely made enough to get that bag of groceries I had my
     eye on…..then they took it all back anyway, because apparently I am on-par with a Nazi
    War-Criminal-Ad-Clicker…..which I did not do no-way, no-how, contrary-wise!!!!
2. You DO NOT have to feel humiliated if you didn’t do anything wrong, therefore, I choose not to.

3. I am NOT tech-savvy! I mean I KNEW I wouldn’t get hired on by the Geek Squad anytime soon, but I
    had this tragically naïve idea that I somehow knew what to do with all the HTML’s and RSS’s and wid-
    gets, and Java Script and URL’s and flingies and thingies…..

4. Researching for days, only to find out that; like Dorothy, what you needed was in your own back-
     yard….well, it blows like a hurricane!
5. Having your feelers hurt and your lip all stuck out serves no purpose except to get on the nerves
     of everyone around you. Plus it ticks God off! Do you trust Him or not?
6. I like Blogspot. In fact I LOVE it! It is not their fault. Adsense works with lots of Blog Sites, oh sure
     Google is behind it all, but I believe it was also behind Watergate, the “New” Classic Coke…
     and the Hindenburg Disaster as well. It’s amazing what you find out doing all kinds of research at
     2:00 A.M.
    
7. I must write! I had words falling out everywhere! They were, like, in my pockets and purse and just
     randomly lying on the floor. I found a whole paragraph stuck in my bra. I need to say things; whether
     anyone listens or not. But it is SOOOOO fun to have people listen! It is Divoon! It is like finding a ten
     dollar bill you forgot about in your pocket, or the waitress saying “It’s on us!!!” O.K. I have never
     actually had that one happen, but I bet it would make some happy endorphins flow.

8. Without the ads for AARP, Men’s Speedo banana hammocks, Scientology, trips to the Holy Lands
     (boom baby) and Target holiday specials I have all the room in the world *Snoopy Dance* I can
     put all the widgets and gadgets on here I want!!! I have been like a tot in a toy store!!!! It has been
     ever-so-swell.

9. You MUST spend time looking over every little thing on here. I tried to make it random and eclectic.
     I tried to make it like my posts….”what’s coming next?” “We don’t know!!!” Squeeee!

So finally, my furry little bunnies….I iz so happy! I iz singin’ Happy Birffday songs to Jesus, an some 100 Monkeys stuffs 2!!!!  And I iz NOT chompy no more!!! Merry, golden, beautiful, happy, wonderful Christmas, and God bless us all, everyone…..

THE GARDENER

I have been thinking about the spring. Not trying to rush things, as much as just thinking about the beauteous things that are to come. My husband is the gardener here. He creates an amazing secret garden for me to play in all spring and summer. He is magic with what he does.
   He always begins our spring gardening after the really heavy rains. That is the best time to transplant or pull the weeds up when the ground is saturated. When we grab hold of the dandelions at that time that’s when they just come right out. So smoothly, so little effort on our part, every bit of the root just slips out.
     But as the ground dries out it becomes much more difficult. Lots of times, especially with the tough strong weeds, you can only pull off the top that is showing. But, the root is still there as strong as ever, and will grow another weed just like the one you yanked off.
   That is so much like my walk with the Lord. The weeds are the sins that come up in my life. The saturated ground is like my heart; saturated with the living water of God’s Holy Spirit. When the ground of my heart is saturated with His Spirit and power, the weeds slip out easily. And, if I don’t let them get big, if I catch them before they grow down deep (by His power) they almost pop out
   The bigger the dandelion, the bigger the sin. The longer it has been there the deeper and stronger the root has grown. Sure you can yank the top off, and I might even look tidy and cleaned up. But the Lord is the ultimate gardener. It is His goal to remove every weed/sin as soon as it springs up, because it is so much easier to free the ground of my heart.
    Some sins in my life have been there for years. I have tried so hard, in my own power, to up-root them. But, do you ever see the ground spit the seed out itself? No the ground is simply there to grow whatever has been planted, beauteous flower, delicious food or useless, annoying weed. The ground, as my heart, is merely a receptacle, a holder of the seed, good or bad.
    It really has taken me a life-time to realize that I am not the gardener of my heart. He is my gardener. The wasted years of trying to pull up the weeds myself (no matter how saturated the ground) made it lay fallow, unusable, unfruitful in that particular area of my life. Actually certain sins can grow so deep that they actually have little rootlets and runners. You think a thing is gone in your life. Even with the Lord removing it. But the runner silently grows underneath, side-ways in the ground of my heart and it pops up almost stunning me, because I really think it’s gone. These tricky little rootlets branch off in lots of directions.
     I am not a very good gardener. I go at it all scatter-shot. It takes my knowledgeable husband to keep the garden in order. I have yanked up important things, and accidentally nourished weeds, because they looked interesting at the moment and filled in so nicely. My ignorance is staggering. It is the same in my heart. I must rest in Jesus. I am the ground. He is the gardener. He always plants good seed. Some weeds are tricksters and make a fool of me. I actually nourish the sin along, thinking I am doing a good thing! But my job is to let Him tend this garden of my heart. Let Him pull up what needs to be removed, and water, tend and nourish what needs to grow and mature.
   Oh yes, and there is the pruning. I have been known to prune a plant until it looks like a Charlie Brown stick. I have also begged to leave something growing that I thought looked wild and wonderful, Bill gently reminds me that this plant or that plant is getting away from us…until I have to give in, because even though it is a perfectly nice plant (like my wisteria) it is choking the heck out of the poor lilac bush!
    So I will give my pet wisteria a haircut, but I don’t like it. I always imagine it hurts it… Silly I know, but sometimes it hurts me when God has to prune things from my life for my own good. But it is so important because I can miss the fact that some things are choking others out. But God doesn’t miss a thing. He is patient and kind. He is the Husbandman. He treats the ground of my heart tenderly while He works to make the plants of His choosing flourish. I need to be still under His hands. Soak in the sunlight and the richness and the beauty. I need to seek His grace and the watering of His Spirit every day, to quietly wait and watch as He creates.
    I miss spring and summer. I miss the golden light and the greenness and the vibrant color. But God gardens in my heart every day. It is not seasonal; He will produce rich fruit daily in my life if I will let Him. I have learned two very important things; first, keep the soil well watered with His Spirit through prayer and the word. If the ground dries out, I am in trouble. Second; I cannot pull up the weeds myself, any more than I can produce the delicious fruit on my own. It is Him, not me that does both.
    So how does your garden grow? Sometimes mine is weedy and unproductive. Sometimes it flourishes with beautiful fruit from the seeds the Gardener has planted. Sometimes the soil is rich and well-watered. Other times it is dry and rocky, weeds love this soil and flourish there, tough and stubborn. The good thing is that it is a work in progress. God never gives up. Just as the Garden of Eden will one day be restored to its full beauty, I will also see my heart fully flourishing and producing fruit for its Creator.

Part II: Mucal-Invaders--Sky Blue and Black

    Oh my….It is 12:02 p.m. It is late and I am up; working to breathe out of alternating nostrils and coughing up, what I can only assume, are chunks of lung….But maybe not even my own. Maybe I have coughed so much that I have actually activated the original person’s DNA that gave me this nasty, shopping-cart-licking mucal-invader. Do you think we get a bit of that person’s DNA with the virus?  I mean think about it; I bet we get a trace of DNA from the last person or animal the mosquito bit before it bit us. So why not a smidge of the snot-blowing, virus-flinging typhoid Mary’s DNA? If that scares you then just put it right out of your mind.
    Now, I cannot go to bed and lie there barking like a seal until my husband has to smother me with my own pillow. And, what did I used to do when this happened? Well, I read (which I still do. I am not a complete Gomer.) or I did puzzles; maybe Sudoku or crosswords…..then *ominous music* I got my laptop!
    It’s too late for me now. I am addicted to blogging, FB and Mahjong. I cannot help it. I live in a snow filled crack. So I sit here lapping up all the technology I can get, which is not much, but I am enjoying my MP3 player as well. Most of my music is happy. I mean I programmed it! But then I forget that sometimes I put some sad ones on there too. Like right now I am enjoying “Mr. Orson Brawl” by 100 Monkeys. (Excellent indie band).But earlier I listened to “Sky Blue and Black” by Jackson Browne. Oh that song is so haunting. Not sad exactly, but when you are a bit under the weather it clutches at you. It is in your soul and your spirit somewhere that it affects you, but probably closest to your spleen.
    See, some people think your spirit is located in one place in your body, I think your mind is the seat of the soul which is your personality, your likes and dislikes your adoration of certain people and your aversion to broccoli, whether you hate math or love to read Tolstoy... I mean, think about it, the mind and the brain are two very different things. You can change your mind, but you can't change your brain. But I think your spirit utterly infuses every part of you, I think it is in every corner of you, every cell, every hair and every finger! When you die and it leaves, it flies out of every cell in your body. When your soul and spirit (they are a package deal) go we cannot imagine all they take with them. Every bit of the essence that is ‘you’ is in there. Everything that makes you laugh or cry, makes you happy or sad, your personality, everything flies away…….But that is just a theory, try not to think about it.     
     Oh, dang! Pffft! My MP3 just died. Well that certainly makes the cheese more binding, and the night quieter. But that is not a bad thing either. Silence is a beautiful thing. I don’t hear a lot of it these days, which is fine. But sometimes don’t you just crave it? I do. Silence rests the soul and the mind. Did you know that scientists say that the same cells that are in your brain can be found in your intestines? It’s true. See what I mean? So, is that why people say they get a “gut feeling”? And, is that why paying your bills each month can be nature’s laxative? I believe so. That's your soul which is intertwined into your spirit, which  is everywhere you are baby!
   Ha Ha, I bet I sound all “New-agey” here, well I’m not! I know that these days being a fundamentalist sounds like a dirty word, but I am very fundamental in my Christianity. Still, I think about these things. No haters please. No scathing posts. If you don’t like my blog don’t read it. Sorry, I am cranky, it is the coughing; I may have just dislodged an eyeball……
     All I am saying is that; all we know, even all the big brains like Einstein and Hawking and the Professor and Mary Ann…no wait sorry…I lost my train of thought….okay, all the collective knowledge of all of humankind could fit into a thimble compared to what is to be known out in God’s vast universe. I do however hold the Bible as the true word of the Creator of the Universe. So, if I believe that animals go to Heaven, and there is nothing in the Bible to disprove that, then I know my little Otis will be waiting for me (my little pug baby we lost a year ago).
    See these are the kinds of things I sit up thinking about late at night. Now add to that this Mutant-Commie-Viral-Invader and my mind just gets ever-so creative. Like for instance; in your life, what has been the best decade so far? Think about it. Is it right now or do you hearken back to the good old days?
      I liked the eighties a lot. Again no nasty posts please. I am not saying I am a Boy-George, or Wham lover. I am just saying I liked that time a lot. I liked the music, I liked that phase of my life, poor and stupid, but happy. Raising our children and Wang-Chunging, and truly feeling with all my heart that it was Hammer-time….
       I am not saying that now is not good too. There is so much beauteous grace all around me. There are so many possibilities. Who knows what God has in store? I trust that there will be spring, and days of golden light. I trust that I will walk in the foamy ocean again at sunset. I like it then, when the waves, pink and gold and silver flow over my feet. I trust that I will get to enjoy the way it looks when I stare up through the bower of wisteria leaves above me in our backyard and the sunlight filters through just right. I think about all the ideas for paintings that I have and I know that I if I am fruitful and busy, I might get through a tiny fraction of them in my life-time. But, alas I am not always so busy or fruitful. Still, now is good.
   Now I get a chance to tell people about Jesus and try as best as I can to mirror the love of God (even in the screaming-baby-check-out line). Now is the moment I am in. It’s all I get for sure, which is kind of suck-y if you are sounding like a cat coughing up a fur-ball. But, it is still okay. Even with a nasty case of Commie-Virus-Mucal-Invaders, I know that life is a gift. I mean, just listen to “Sky Blue and Black”…..P.S. Jesus loves you very much……tee-hee... snuck it in on you! I have to go now. It’s time for more medication.

Commie-Viruses and Talking Turkeys

     The night before Thanksgiving I felt it. Creeeping up, all sly and villainous. *gong-sound* It was The Crud. I think I may have mentioned that I have fibromyalgia. Just like I may have mentioned that I like to paint, or hate snow….Sorry, I am now about to redundantly, obnoxiously revisit my ailment. Oh Lord, I am becoming just like those old people you edge away from at the doctor’s office that will tell you about their prostate or their acute angina, before you have a chance to bury your nose in a dog-eared Golf-Digest magazine from 1994.  They may have acute angina, well I have nice knees. Big deal…..
     Now where was I? Oh yes, about me…..I could feel it, so I knew it was coming with an agenda. My fibro usually dulls my spider-senses to these things. I always feel flu-ish and poopy anyway, so I often can’t tell I am getting something new until I am embracing the toilet as though it were a long lost relative, or I have begun to stumble around, clutch my head and moan. For instance, when I went to get my flu shot they sent me home with no shot, because I had a fever hovering around 100 degrees. Huh….I have low-thyroid so I usually have the temp of a cadaver after about three hours gone. Around 95-96.6 so this was like really having a temp!   
     So, anyway this new hypo-gurucus headed straight for my lungs. *gong-sound* It did not pause in my nose, except to trick me into thinking it was a mere sinus headache…..no it came charging in the night before Thanksgiving and set up shop. I pictured all those little green blobs, like on the commercials, full of attitude and mucous. Grrr. I took all kinds of home remedies. They did NOT work. “E-mergency” is a sham! Teas are useless. Viruses scoff at these drinks and use them in their little tiny hot tubs. They use zinc and vitamin–C as party Hors D'Oeuvres. “Have another zinc on toast!” They laugh gaily.
   This morning I got up feeling like Godzilla was stomping around in my chest. It makes you move ever so carefully. I could hear the turkey making noises in the fridge. Oh sure it is headless and plucked, but it still demands to know who is going to put it out of its naked shame. A golden brown turkey is a happy turkey.
      My daughter had to work, that let her off the hook. Jacob (our youngest) would have tried to shove it in the microwave on high for 3 minutes and say “Waaaa-Laaaaa!” (I know it’s voila, Shudd-up!) Dennis (our oldest)  poked at it a couple of times through the netting in a puzzled manner. Poor little Charly had a look like a deer caught in headlights; first Thanksgiving at the in-laws and that is a lot to ask of a new little bride. My hubby would have tried, bless him,  he would have. But we won't discuss the outcome of that in my delicate state.
   Well the turkey may have been talking, but it wasn’t going to hop in the roaster by itself. So I did my thing. Hey, I wore gloves, and coughed into my jammie shirt. At this point I had the chills and thought of climbing in right along with it, but I knew it was too tight a squeeze... Well, as I was up anyway, I staggered around and made a bunch more stuff, which I hear is pretty good. But, everything has a weird taste to me. Charly helped me, bless her little bones. Great deviled-eggs, girl…so I hear….but nothing seems right to me! *gong-sound*
     My Mom and Step-Dad were supposed to come; but one croak on the telephone and they backed out faster than Sarah Palin refusing a White House dinner party (NOT that she would be invited, unless there was also a knife-thrower for the dinner-show) take that as you wish, I am non-political……But later, I made up a care package for my parents and they grabbed it and ran like rabbits.
     Word is they thought it was yummy too. Either I cook wicked-good when I am sick, or everybody is humoring me! How will I ever know?... I think I got a scald on that bird though! The fam was actually changing into their meat-pants. Oh you wicked, wretched virus...you ruined my fun, but you didn’t ruin theirs. Ha Ha!!!
     I hear all viruses come from China! I believe this is some sort of Commie-Plot, "HA! You Capitalistic Pig. We send you the swine flu. May your big American turkey have flavor of boot-leather. May your decadent gravy have many lumps….."   *gong-sound*
    I looked around on Facebook today. Some of my friends had fancy tables and lots of family pictures. I did actually get showered and dressed, but only because as I was cutting off all of  the trappings from the turkey, frozen meat and ice went into my eyeball and hair. If someone had dared to pull out a camera they would have immediately been pureed into the celery spread. Eventually, in the afternoon we all finally grabbed a chair, said grace and dug in. Not a flower on the table!
     We watched the episode of WKRP where Mr. Carlson, as a publicity stunt, throws live turkeys from the back of a helicopter. My favorite line ever is, “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.” I enjoyed that especially in an attempt to bum out my commie-virus. I am sleepy now due to medication and don’t want to talk to you anymore. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t want your prayers for good health and the death of the commie-virus, I desperately do. I just want to go lay my weary bones down. Let sleep knit the raveled sleeve, and all that.
     And, about your Thanksgiving, if you had flowers on the table and wine glasses, divoon! If you all dressed in your finest and all the kiddies were adorable I am glad. If Norman Rockwell would be envious, I salute you. And, I am very thankful you had it my lovely, lovely friends. Now I am going to bed and hope for a light coma. Nothing serious, you understand; just a wee bit of obliteration until morning. *faint, faint gong-sound*

Happy Thanksgiving!

     To all of you who are new to this magnificent country; those visiting, those immigrating, and those hiding in the trunk…We would like to take a moment to perform a public service and explain this glorious tradition which we call, “Thanksgiving”.
  According to Wikipedia, the absolute rock-solid source for all your information needs:  “Thanksgiving Day is a harvest festival celebrated primarily in the United States and Canada. Thanksgiving was a holiday to express thankfulness, gratitude, and appreciation to God, family and friends for which all have been blessed of material possessions and relationships. Traditionally, it has been a time to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. This holiday has since moved away from its religious roots.
     In the United States, Thanksgiving Day falls on the fourth Thursday of November. In Canada it is celebrated on the second Monday in October.
      The precise historical origin of the holiday is disputed. Although Americans commonly believe that the first Thanksgiving happened in 1621, at Plymouth Plantation, in Massachusetts, there is strong evidence for earlier celebrations in Canada (1578) and by Spanish explorers in Florida (1565).Thanksgiving Day is also celebrated in Leiden, in the Netherlands.”     As we can see, The Canadians get theirs over with earlier. Wikipedia would have us believe it is always the second Monday in October, unless it is a leap year or the Prime Minister is feeling cranky. Ours supposedly has to do with some pilgrims and Indians. We don’t know what the Canadian’s story is. We could check that out on Wikipedia too, but we don’t want to, so if you would look into it, that would be great, thanks.
    And who knew about Leiden? We suspect Wiki is just making that up. We have serious doubts that there even is a “Leiden”. All though we are fairly sure there is (are?) a Netherlands, they just sound like they should be lower on the map that’s all.
   Plus, can you believe the “Precise historical origin of the holiday is disputed.”??? Nobody shared that piece of information with us in grade school when we were tracing our hands to make turkeys and making silly hats out of construction paper and glue….Also; apparently the Spanish were Giving Thanks WAAAAY earlier down in Florida! But do they ever get any credit? Heck no! It is not like chips, salsa and quesadillas are traditional Thanksgiving Day fare. If we were the Spanish government we would write a harshly worded telegram to the President every November asking “What is up, Por favor????”
     Anyway, foreigners, here is what happens on Thanksgiving Day; Friends and families spend the day in prayer being ever-so-grateful to God for all of their blessings. Then, they dress up in their best clothes (That’s right! Just like in the commercials!) And they sit down to a beautifully adorned table that Grandma and Mom have been decorating for days: a gathering that puts Norman Rockwell to shame. (Foreigners, if you do not know who that is, look him up on Wikipedia, apparently he is famous for the Mona Lisa)
     Anyway, Dad used to have to go out and shoot the turkey himself, but no more, thanks to the magical turkey fairies! We just go and buy them straight from the store now, just as God intended; featherless, headless, with their own heart, neck and gizzard stuffed up their butts and frozen harder than a Titanic ice berg. (However; we are very suspicious of the “gizzard” and believe it is something the turkey fairies made up as a prank) So, this leaves extra time for Dad to help with all of the holiday fixins’…..just ask him! Often he will actually go and retrieve the turkey-shaped, lumpy, bowling-ball-type-thing for you, straight from the freezer!
     Traditional fare includes; homemade pies, home-grown corn and yams (which are really only sweet potatoes with an attitude) homemade rolls and freshly churned butter. And, a highly suspicious dish made from green beans and french-fried onions, which we are pretty sure the pilgrims did not enjoy----at all. After the hearty feast Americans will often sit and string dried cranberries in preparation for Christmas or whittle by the fire. Dad and the kids usually shoo Mom and Grandma out of the kitchen to do the clean-up work.
     Ha-ha foreigner, ask any American and they will tell you that we are pulling your leg! (Please adjust your Lederhosen and, or, Kilt). Oh sure, lots of families still do many of the traditional “festivities” if you count; football, two minutes of parade, interrupted by six minutes of commercials aimed at your children, causing them to shriek every few minutes, “I WANT THAT FOR CHRISTMAS!”, large quantities of malt beverages and horribly uncomfortable family arguments with relatives you avoid like the plague for the rest of the year, “traditional”.
   Also we are “joking” (big fat liars) when we spin the yarn about the men helping. Oh some will try….they will bring a plate or a bowl to the women in a puzzled manner, as though they had never set foot inside an actual kitchen before in their lives. They will even try to help “load” the dishwasher by doing it completely wrong, their eyes glued to the television as they drip gravy from the dangling plate onto their shoes. This causes the dog to follow them around in an excited manner for the rest of the day. But, since they will only be moving to the couch to groan and undo their belts, it’s a sort jaunt for Rover too.
   But, now is the time for confession dear foreign friend (we are friends, right?). The only thing “home-made” on our table this year will probably be the stains on the cloth from last year….We usually have Mrs. Smith or Sara Lee make our pies. Also; we throw away enough tinned cans in our house on Thanksgiving Day to create a metal sculpture in the town-square back in your homeland (Trust me; it won’t matter where that is.) We have actually seen butter-churns in quaint little antique shops, and laaaughed! Yes, sadly we are a fraud and a sham. Seriously, if we could afford a caterer we would dance wildly around our house, giving all kinds of thanks!
     But really the question is; are we really thankful? Do we really remember on this day where all of our blessings come from? If we remember that all good things come from the hand of God then it doesn’t matter what our feast looks like. It doesn’t even matter if our pies are home-made. Or if after dinner, Uncle Harland keeps asking all the kids to pull his finger.
    Sadly, Wikipedia was right when it stated that the holiday has moved away from its religious roots. This can be a very scary world (is that why you chose America?) and we need to remember where our blessings come from every day. We need to live in a state of gratefulness and appreciation for everything we have because it could be gone in a heartbeat. That’s what the pilgrims knew, and we are sure, the Canadians, Spanish and the Leidenians as well. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!!!!!

For My Mother

     My Momma told me it is time to write a new blog. She says I have left the old one on here long enough and she is bored with the ads. She is my biggest fan. She clicks on all of the ads to make me a smidgen of money. But in the process she has actually explored some good sites and found some really interesting things. I, myself, am not allowed to click on my own ads. This is true. Google gets very testy if you do that as a blogger and will take away all of your pennies.
    At this stage in my life I try to do what my Momma says. I tried hard as a child, but would often forget what she asked me to do approximately 2.5 seconds after she asked…..At first she just thought I was being disobedient. But I remember the day (here, I was about eight or nine) when I could see a sort of comprehension steal over her face. She looked at me with a mixture of wonder and pity and said, “You really do completely forget. You really aren’t trying to disobey me….” And she was right. I have always had the memory of a gnat, which I made even worse in the 70’s, if you are receiving my drift.
    Now, speaking of the 70’s; I did turn into a rotten teenager. I wasn’t so much openly rebellious as I was a sneaky little (bad word). My sister was a child of the 60’s, openly a hellion; she drove my mother to the brink. I watched where it got her: in to ever so much trouble. I decided; that was not the way of the Tonya. No, the way of the Tonya was stealthy, tricksey, sly and slippery, much like a bad Ninja only much clumsier. My poor Momma. If it burned, I smoked it. If it was liquid, I drank it. (Well for the most part; I did avoid rope and Draino). And I lied like a dog. I would lie just for practice. It was sort of my only sport, as I was not an athletic child. If it suited my purpose and kept my parents in the dark…then I fibbed.
     My point in this is not to share my misspent youth, but to tell you about my amazing Mother. She is the loveliest thing. I wish I could take back all the youthful shenanigans I inflicted upon her. If I could take back every gray hair I gave her over my ridiculousness she would be, well salt & pepper actually, because my sister was an equal stress-producer for our Mother as well. (Disclaimer; Sorry Sissy but you were…..sometimes my sister reads my blog…)  
    My Momma loves with the heart of God. She loves openly and forthrightly. She doesn’t judge us, and if she does, then she keeps it silently to herself and does not criticize. Her advice is 99% spot-on. Sorry Mommacita, but every now and then that 1% does show up. Remember when you thought it would be a good idea for me to join that organization (which will remain nameless) even though you, yourself would not join a group with actual people in it, of any kind, even if they offered you large sums of money? Remember how I quit after two mind-numbingly agonizing meetings? Remember how you thought it was funny that they kept calling for over a month asking me why I quit? Right there….boom! There’s your 1%.
     Mommy, we have both noticed that whatever I write about in my posts determines the ads, right? So I thought I would put some interesting words in here, in hopes that you have some much more fascinating ‘clicks’.  Here it goes: Leprechauns, Whales, Antiques, England, The Louver, The Aegean Sea, The Holy Lands, Faeries, Tom Jones, George Clooney, Diamonds and Rubies, Jerusalem, Maxfield Parrish Skies, Willa Cather, Fire Flies, Beautiful Parks, Pumpkin Cheesecakes and Elephants.
     I wish this was a better tribute to you Mom. I wish I could write better about every little beautiful thing you do. I wish I could write about all the time you actually spend on your knees in prayer for us, and how you see the achingly beautiful things in this world, and how, without being one bit suicidal, how you long for the next one. I wish I could explain better about how, no matter what happened in my childhood, I always felt safe if you were there. I wish I could really describe how you get so tickled when you see people fall down. And, how you can’t help it, but it makes you laugh until you cry. And, how your granddaughters do the same thing.
     Thank you, Momma. Thank you for all the sleepless nights you spent over me, and all the hard work. Thank you for all your generosity; both materially and of spirit. You bless me every day, and I realized that I had a forum where I could say so. So I am. I pray God’s blessings on you. I pray health to your bones and joy for your spirit. I pray goldenly happy days for you with no loneliness. I pray that you really know, deep down how loved you are. And, I pray that you get some new killer-good ads on here to click on!!!  

Tonya Willman ©2010

Who Will Remember?

    In this world, in the eons of time that people have lived upon this planet their numbers have become like the sands on the shores. Like the stars in the sky. Too many to even begin to comprehend or know. Oh, we can read about a few of them in history books and biographies and in God’s great word. But really, even then, we can only know small facets of their lives. Each person is so unique, whether you liken them to a diamond, or a snake, good or evil. Each person has facets. And even the best of story tellers can only show you the very tiniest view into the window of that person’s life.
     Everyone wants to be remembered, but only a few are dusted off from the sands of time now and again to be recollected and studied. Hated or admired. Let’s take you for example; the person reading this right now. You are somebody’s child, possibly sibling, spouse, parent, aunt, uncle, friend…. This list could go on much longer. But let’s say you are a wonderful parent. Your children grow up and know that. Your actions and their stories teach your grandchildren that you are a wonderful grandparent. And someday your great grandchildren will learn that too, even if you have left this world by then, they will hear the stories.
      But then, your great, great grandchildren may not know as much about you. If you are still alive by their adulthood, they may know that you really don’t know a person from a pencil…But they hear that you used to be heaps of fun! Now we come to your great, great, great grandchildren. You are a story that periodically gets told. You could be pieces of furniture or paintings or some ephemera that your family has saved along with some aged photographs. Some people love antiquity, they might be fascinated; most will acknowledge your life only in passing.
   Oh sure, if you were Churchill, or Einstein or Madame Curie, or even Stalin or Hitler the family would pay you a lot more attention, and probably try to design a theme park around you or at least a Museum. Wow, let’s say you were Elvis or M.J. you would have your own legacy in Graceland/Never-Never Land…for a while.
   But time passes even for the most interesting and extraordinary people. Every minute somebody leaves this planet with a fascinating story. Most of them never get told. Some get remembered for a time, most fade from memory within one to two generations. All of that history and all of those enthralling, and intriguing life stories passing from memory. That includes you. Sorry, but it does. Beautiful souls leave every day, like passengers boarding train after train. Who will remember that this one put out the food for the birds and that one took soup to the sick or helped clothe the needy?
   Some people will do anything to be remembered; famous or infamous, noteworthy or notorious. It means a lot to a lot of folks. But Even if you are remembered for a while, nobody is going to remember everything. All the funny things you did. All of the challenges you overcame. All of the thoughts that you never shared because you didn’t think anyone would care, or they were too private, or you were too embarrassed. All of the dreams and aspirations, and real reasons and intentions behind your actions and decisions that made up the sum total of your life. Because no one can know them all, even if they were to work on a biography about you every single day as their own life’s pursuit.
    Well that is not entirely true. In fact; it is not true at all. There is someone who remembers it all. He knows and He keeps track. Not on some big score card; here’s a total of all the good, here’s a total of all the bad, nope. But He really knows your life. Every single detail. To Him you will NEVER be forgotten.  For all of eternity your life will be fascinating and of the utmost importance to Him. Of course you know I am speaking of God. You know I am saying that Christ knows you intimately, whether you choose to acknowledge Him or not. But how can it be? Millions get wiped out at a time in catastrophes….Countless forgotten people through time, turned to dust in this world, beyond remembrance. He cannot possibly care, or keep track. Oh yes He can, and He does.
    What about the ignorant serf that died eight hundred years ago in a plague? What about the gang members today that look at life as something to waste and pour out on to the ground like a flat soda? That person? Who cares, he was a gang member. Drive-bys happen every day. He made no contributions. He did not matter. SO not true. That person mattered. That serf, that gang member mattered. God will not forget them, ever. His word says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” Jeremiah 1:5. It also says that He knows how fragile we are, He knows how short or how long our time here on Earth is. He knows the exact day we will die. That is not the point.
    The point is that; that place within us that needs to be special, needs to be remembered is the place He set up for Himself. Jesus said that He is so interested in us that even the hairs on our heads are numbered!!!
    If you don’t like to think about your own death because it scares or depresses you, you are not alone. If you feel like all of your days, and work and tears and laughter and the very essence of who you are will be forgotten, take heart, they will not.
    Life in this world is fleeting. The Bible says we are like the grass that springs up and then quickly withers away. But, oh what is waiting beyond!  And everybody will meet Him and He will remember every day, every thought, word and deed.
     If that scares you ask yourself why. God’s word says, if we know Jesus Christ as our redeemer we do not have to fear. We know that He paid the price for every bad thing we have ever done. We can come joyously and boldly before God. We can sit with Him as He talks with us and remembers…..everything.  
    

Shiny,Happy People~~~

     I absolutely believe my family is insane. Doesn’t everyone secretly and sometimes not so secretly believe that? You look at the families around you. And, oh sure you see some incredibly dysfunctional situations. Families so launched that they make the clan in “Deliverance” look like the Osmond's (Whom I think are actually extremely peculiar, and possibly cloned. Note to Marie: get another gig. We know you’ve lost it okay?)
     But, we all know those other families. Everyone is doing swell. They are the shiny, happy people. When you talk to the matriarch’s and patriarchs; aka/people your own age, they always tell you about how Robert is now a brain surgeon and of course Dustin, that little rogue, has become head of the CIA. They all seem to be doing great.
     Oh sure, everybody may live across the country from each other but they just fly, at will, in to visit one another any old time. How is little Katie doing? Oh she is great! They say. She has married a lawyer who charges $1000.00 per hour and they have two adorable children and get their photos done professionally every three to six months. They all look better than any television commercial family out there and everyone has 100 mega-watt smiles, even the newest baby’s two lone teeth gleam as though professionally whitened.
   There are many ways that you can be subjected to all this good news while your family is trying to figure out how to get that oil change and set of tires they’ve had their eye on. Some families will always subject you to the Happy Christmas card photo along with a folksy “family” newsletter about how Jennifer and Todd are now picking out their 5.4 carat rings for the upcoming nuptials. (Registry at Nordstrom’s) So you go to the web site and you realize you would have to take out a small loan for the salt and pepper shakers, but you might be able to pull off purchasing a full place-setting if you sold a kidney.
    You can also get all the news that is fit to print on Facebook. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy Facebook. I drive my family crazy with it. Well, even crazier than they already are! But there is nothing that will grind your self-worth under the heel of humanity more than to find out that the people you always suspected were perfect in high school are jetting off to Paris for a quick family “get-a-way”.
     And because everyone will have one of those cell phones that can do everything except launch the space shuttle, they can also take professional photography quality pictures with some sort of “Black-Droid-Berry-Tooth”. So, you get subjected to 5,493 vacation photos that have been shared or tagged every 9.3 minutes. Oh look! There is Rupert and Laura in the Louvre…and somehow they have gotten special permission to fondle the Mona Lisa! Look how fun! Rupert is such a wag. Don’t drop it Rupert! Oh and Laura will write several LOL’s and say isn’t he a stitch! Yes, Laura he sure is!
     But you are not bitter. You know that it takes all kinds of families to make up this world. And so what if you occasionally feel trapped like a rat in a maze because you live in a tiny little crack-of-a-town that that has you in an iron grip?
      Because what if, just suppose, that behind all of the gloss and shininess they are as crazy as you are? What if they hold on to their children’s accomplishments like the shine on their new Lexus because secretly Jeffery wears a dress or little Ryan has been caught repeatedly in the garage eating the dry dog food straight from the bag along with the King Charles Spaniel, and now that young Cindy is in high school she gets straight F’s, dresses in black and will not eat anything but strawberry Pop-Tarts and sticks of white chalk?
     Families work SO hard to look “normal” and “Successful” and the first thing everyone wants to know is how all of yours are doing. Ahhh, your family; you love them. You are completely proud of them. And yet you find yourself hedging ever so slightly. Oh you would never claim that they had just won the Pulitzer Prize. But you want to be shiny too, yet you know you are really not terribly shiny. You are just an average family that actually counts running to the Wal-Mart as an “outing”.
      You have three rotten dogs that constantly track crud all over your Pergo floors which you couldn’t wait to get, but now they mock you. Oh sure, you started out buffing out every little spot, but you drove yourself and everyone else in the house completely mad. So now you pay no attention to the Rorschach blots they leave everywhere. And you really only notice them when people drop-in and so you try to look at it all through “their eyes.” But don’t do that. I urge you. You will only want to fling yourself off of something very tall. Also do not think about the constant, incessant clicking of 48 dog toes racing to the lone dropped Dorito, just put it right out of your mind.
   So you sit and you take the time to remember that your children can make you laugh until you pee your pants. And your husband works like a dog every day so that he can provide, and come home and share his life with you. You remember that your oldest child is incredibly talented and amazing and has a wit that is sharp as a knife. You remember that your middle child is like gold, precious and lovely and funny and a total pain in your butt. You remember that your youngest is grown, but is still your baby. This one was different and the love and the labor that went into it was all worth is because he shines like a diamond. And then you think about the new additions; the daughter-in-law that is really, truly your friend and the grand children that are wild and woolly and beautiful.
    Even as life hits you from every direction, you begin to see that you do too shine. Yes you do, in your own way. And you know that all though you will probably never need plug adapters or a passport, because you are more likely to tour Alpha-Centari than you are to tour Europe; it is okay. No one else has exactly what you have. And what you have is good. It is what you were given from God. It is up to you to do something shiny with it.
     And I do not mean shiny like Laura and Rupert’s photos, I mean shiny like the things that stand the test of time and count in the next world. Shining thankfulness for the average craziness all around you, for the love and the tears and the pain and the laughter and all the macaroni and cheese. The shine of gratefulness is the brightest light of all and makes for the happiest people, no matter how unsuccessful or successful the world may deem you. Well, look there----- you are one of the shiny, happy people after all…. Tonya Willman ©2010    
  

What A Day I'm Having....

     So why is it that when you are having a good day, and all is right with the world…you get whapped with the rolled up newspaper of life? You’re cruising along doing fine, and are actually accomplishing much of what you have set out to do. But then, one silly thing happens and sometimes that is all it takes to make you wish that you could go curl-up like a boiled shrimp and contemplate your navel for a few hours.  
     Sometimes you can just shake certain incidences off, “no big deal” You say, smiling serenely, but the Powers and Principalities will have none of it, and this causes a cascade of poopy, if you will, that begins that downhill roll, picking up momentum, until it turns into a giant avalanche of crud.
     I am a person that truly lives within my emotions. This is not good folks. Oh I envy the analytical minds out there that can just swat away the flies of irritation that like to buzz around us as though we were their own personal garbage dump. But this is not my style. No. At first I will wave it off. Trying to remember all of what I know as a Christian, trying to let the Lord take the situation.  And sometime, lo-and-behold it happens…glorious peace. That is when I am really walking in His Spirit.
     BUT, some days just aren’t that victorious. Some days you don’t see the flies beginning to circle until you suddenly find yourself wishing for some existential Raid! Some “annoying-person-be-gone” Spray, or some industrial sized “incident” traps that will just “Snaaaap” up the situation and, poof! It’s gone. Oh the verminous junk the Powers and Principalities likes to pitch at you.
     Still even as I write this, I begin to calm down. I recognize myself for the dork that I am. I say to myself, “What is your problem? Do you live in a tin-shack or a mud hut? Do you have to haul your brown water in a jug on your head every day for two miles? Do you live in a country where you cannot fart without someone chasing you down in the name of someone else and beating you senseless with sharp sticks?
     Are you the blind woman in the rose garden? Are you the deaf man at the symphony? Are you the piteous individual with their jaw wired shut at the All You Can Eat Shrimp Buffet for $5.99 (beverage and dessert included)? Answer: No, of course you are not, you ungrateful feeb. At once this puts many of the difficulties of the day into perspective.
     Now here; I am talking about the typical kind of flies buzzing day, not those medium-gall and bitter-bitter-wormwood kinds where you find yourself pleading before a judge or watching the doctor stripping off his rubber gloves in a worried manner, or the bank calling to remind you that if you have not vacated by Monday they will be stopping around with the attack dogs. Those kinds of days are somewhere in between the mere annoying and the black and gaping maw. Still you definitely deserve full sympathy from anyone who will listen. If they choose not to, you are allowed to grab them by the shirt collar until they comply.
     And, by God’s grace, this was NOT one of the “Medium” days. And by “Medium” again I mean somewhere in between the “Crud avalanche-fly-buzzing” and the “Severe Retribution of the Sharp Stick.” And since this was merely; an existential fly buzzing, avalanche of poopy, kind of day I give thanks.
     After all; Now, good food is cooking and family surrounds me, and I just got a hug and a note with my name on it from my five year old grandson! So really to complain would be like griping about getting a splinter from the life-boat on the Titanic.
    This was a very cathartic blog post. The kind of blog that may make you say: “Why did she bother?” But it is the kind that gives me back my piece of happy. It shows me glimmers of wonderful. I need that. I need to be reminded on the general “poopy’ days that things could always be a million-jillion times worse and that all of those little flies eventually fly away. And I need to learn to stop living with my
emotions right out there for everyone and everything to tap-dance on. That is my bad. That is where I fail. If I always let everybody else’s whims and emotions control me then I am the prisoner of everyone. Not a good way to live! Not healthy and God is working on that in me.
      Of course, since the last paragraph I have found myself in an argument with my grandson on what he has written on a piece of paper. He started to cry, but I held my ground until his Dad stepped in and refereed. Call me Grandma Wank if you wish, but sometimes you have to stick to your guns….

Tonya Willman ©2010

EPIC HALLOWEEN FAIL!!!

Halloween is always such an interesting evening. I know that you cannot hear the actual irony in that statement, but trust me it is dripping from every word. I loved it as a child and had fun with it when my kids were young. Then I went through a time when I felt that its origins were too dark for my faith and broke my children’s hearts by not letting them go out. They were older anyway, so I compromised and let them dress up and pass out the candy.
The bribe was that they could keep any of the candy that was left over. They were thrilled; (more irony, in case it alluded you). Plus, they turned into Scrooge McDuck. If they could have given out actual individual candy molecules they would have.
When our youngest one got old enough, Bill came and asked me as a personal favor to him to let our little guy go out. Little man looked so freaking cute in his Proto-Clown outfit from Pre-School that I folded like a cheap tent. My older children are bitter to this day…..
Well I told you all of that to tell you this.
My resolve continued to stay the consistency of Jello in the matter and so we just give out candy every year, as long as I can give out a Halloween riddle/joke tract with it. I am the queen of compromise! The problem is that every year we only have a smattering of trick-or-treaters. Last year I think there were only two. Of course we always have the prerequisite giant trick-or-treaters that come late. They are big, with deep bass voices and in need of shaves. They just randomly smear stuff on their faces to count as costumes and they shove big California-King sized pillow cases at you. Their voices sound like a cross between Darth Vader and Barry White as they demand what they know you will eagerly give. The unspoken threat of egg-goo and TP lingers heavily in the air, along with their after-shave.
Well, this year I somehow lost my mind….I completely forgot that we barely have any children show up. There have been lots of new kids in the neighborhood, so I was hopeful that they were not all at a parent/school sponsored “safe” party…You know how those can screw things up! We had Nestlé’s Crunches and Tootsie Rolls and the tracts all ready.
I don’t know why but something came over me. I decided I needed a ‘costume’. But, I didn’t want to be uncomfortable, so I used my best “lounging” dress ( I refuse to call it a house dress!); red paisley, and I ratted my hair high and wide! I used tons of wax and spray until a force-5 hurricane would have had no effect. I painted my stubby nails black and put on lots of dark trashy make up. I coaxed out my cheek bones. They tend to hide under the padding, but through the magic of make-up, waaa-laaa, there they were! I Put on dangly red ruby earrings and tucked a bright silver headband in my hair to make it stand up even better! And I painted my lips as ruby red as I could get them with the lipstick I have. I was stunning. I was Mrs. Roper on crack! (If you are too young to get the Mrs. Roper reference…..too bad!) I waited…no kids.
So, I made grilled cheese. It was yummy, but I had also eaten off all of my lipstick and forgot to reapply it. Hubby stayed up with me for a while. (After allowing himself one laugh, he held his tongue, he is a strong man) I even watched the live ‘Ghost Hunters’ Special. It was like watching paint dry. Hubby went to bed and youngest son, now 20, was in and out, alternately watching stuff in his room. He offered very little help at all when children actually did come, causing the dogs to believe they were protecting us from the Nazis.
I had a princess come… adorable, and a little fireman who was so realistic, I almost asked him to check the wiring. Then a couple of non-descript, generic little kids who rivaled Charlie brown in their plainness. And of course the big giant, pillow-case wielding, aftershave (possibly patchouli) drenched goobers.
 Well, as they say, “The evening wore on” and I became bitter that no one noticed MY costume! Then I realized the bright red lipstick had tragically been eaten off. Maybe with the raccoon eyes and wild hair, I just looked really ill. I did notice the couple of mothers who came with their children edging carefully out of the gate. But, they had nice big smiles plastered on their faces. Oh, I don’t know, maybe the kids were just too hopped-up on sugar to notice.
So I trailed around here and did my stretches. I had a leg flipped up over the chair arm, and was stretching towards it when the little fireman and his mom came. They left quickly….
I channel surfed and came upon a Discovery Health Channel show that looked kind of interesting. It was called “100 orgasms a day” Apparently these women are tragically afflicted with a medical condition that causes this. I was curious from a scientific stand point, and it was the Health channel after all, but I passed for several reasons because; A.) I feared the wrath of God. B.) My youngest son kept wandering in and out and C.) I have a glass pane in my front door. All I could picture was some poor child peeking in and seeing me sitting there looking like Beetle Juice, watching this informative yet inappropriate show. It could have put the kid into therapy forever.
 To be fair, it seemed like they were just going to talk about it all in a very scientific way and show nothing unseemly, but I just couldn’t take the chance. PLUS, you have to ask yourself; would I watch this with Jesus sitting here??? Obviously the answer is in the question.  And speaking of questions; I had a few things I really wondered about on that show too. Like what if the affliction should come upon them in, say, the DMV?  Oh well it is all for the best. Ignorance is bliss you know.
So I finally just turned off the porch light and went and scrubbed the wax out of my hair and all the make-up off and I informed my family that this is totally IT!!! THE last time. Lights out--curtains pulled. And something in the DVD player with happy bunnies and squirrels that don’t even hint at orgasms. This was the most EPIC HALLOWEEN FAIL EVER!!!!

Tonya Willman ©2010

Titanic's Amazing Preacher

This is an excerpt from The Berean Call newsletter. I am fascinated by all things that have to do with the Titanic. But, I had never heard this story about this amazing man of God. If you know Jesus; as you read this ask Him where you can talk to somebody about Him today. Hopefully it wont be under such dire circumstances, but it is important for us to care this much for each person we meet.
If you do not know Jesus please remember that He is right there waiting for you. If you don't know Him and you want to know more about how to come to Him and why you need to, please email me:
blue.parrish.moon@gmail.com
TBC Extra
Unlikely Hero

by Paul Wilkinson

John Harper [a Baptist pastor from Glasgow, Scotland] had...spent three months ministering at Moody Church in Chicago, during which time the church had experienced "one of the most wonderful revivals in its history." He had not been back in Britain long, however, when he was asked to return and continue his ministry. Harper quickly made arrangements for himself and his six-year-old daughter, Nana, to travel back to America on board the Lusitania but decided to delay their departure for one week so that they could sail on a new ship which was about to make its maiden voyage-the Titanic.

The Titanic struck an iceberg at 11:40 pm on April 14, 1912. As the call was issued for passengers to vacate their cabins, Harper wrapped his daughter in a blanket, told her that she would see him again one day, and passed her to one of the crewmen. After watching her safely board one of the lifeboats, he removed his life-jacket and gave it to one of the other passengers. One survivor distinctly remembered hearing him shout, "Women, children, and the unsaved into the lifeboats!" Harper then ran along the decks pleading with people to turn to Christ, and, with the ship sinking, he called upon the Titanic's orchestra to play, "Nearer, My God, to Thee." Gathering people around him on deck, he then knelt down, and "with holy joy in his face," raised his arms in prayer. As the ship began to lurch, he jumped into the icy waters and swam frantically to all he could reach, beseeching them to turn to the Lord Jesus and be saved. Finally, as hypothermia set in, John Harper sank beneath the waters and passed into the Lord's presence. He was 39.

Four years later, a young Scotsman by the name of Aguilla Webb stood up in a meeting in Hamilton, Canada, and gave the following testimony:

I am a survivor of the Titanic. When I was drifting alone on a spar that awful night, the tide brought Mr. John Harper of Glasgow, also on a piece of the wreck, near me. "Man," he said, "are you saved?" "No," I said, "I am not." He replied, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." The waves bore him away; but, strange to say, brought him back a little later, and he said, "Are you saved now?" "No," I said, "I cannot honestly say that I am." He said again, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," and shortly after, he went down; and there, alone in the night, and with two miles of water under me, I believed. I am John Harper's last convert.

In a tribute to Harper, which was published in 1912 under the heading, "The Three Themes of a Hero," William Andrew of Glasgow noted that the three themes of John Harper's preaching had been "the Cross of Christ, God's marvelous grace to man, and the soon coming of our Lord Jesus Christ."

1. George Harper, "My Brother As I Knew Him," in Moody Adams, The Titanic's Last Hero (Belfast: Ambassador, 1998), 55, cited in Wilkinson, "You Shall Be My Witnesses."

2. See, for example, "A True Story from the Titanic," http:www.corkfpc.com/14.html, cited in Wilkinson.