Vitamin B12, My Drug of Choice

I went to the doctor yesterday. She asked me how I was feeling and I told her she ought to just take me out behind the building and shoot me. She told me that those weren't the plans she had for me. I handed her the list of complaints I had written out. I was afraid I would forget what it was that I wanted to consult with her about and apologized for having a list. You're fine, she assured me as she systematically went through the list.

"Let me see the new moles....ah, no worries we'll freeze those off." Whew! In my family cancer of every variety runs rampant. I also had a good report from mammography. Since my mother, aunt and both grandmothers had breast cancer that's a huge weight off my chest. Pun intended. Next on the list, remind me what are some of the bi-products of having pernicious anemia? "Mood swings, being emotional, loss of concentration, loss of cognitive abilities, loss of balance, loss of energy...." That's it! I am not making it through a whole month between shots of B12. Those around me notice it too. Then she told me that I could have my shots every two weeks. This is cause for rejoicing. I have been dragging around like I am wearing Jimmy Hoffa's shoes. Not to mention the loss of my sunny disposition......

By the end of my visit with her I had also received a shot of prednisone for my sciatica, an Rx for physical therapy, instructions to stop going to my gym of choice, continued encouragement to lose weight and a much better attitude. All of them were welcome, especially the shot for sciatica although it's sort of a trick. Whatever they give you to numb you from the burning effects of the prednisone is what really brings instant relief. The prednisone will take a while to work.

This morning I am wired for sound, have energy to clean, garden, cook, travel and quite possibly show Buzz Aldrin how to really cut a rug on Dancing With the Stars. Unfortunately I still have a body that can only do modified versions of these activities. However, having the 'want to' is a blessing all on its own. It struck me as I sat down to write this that my doctor's plans for me weren't any better than God's plans for me. Do you think if God wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck we would take his promises more seriously?

Jeremiah 29:11
11 'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.

James 1:25
25 But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the {law} of liberty, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man shall be blessed in what he does.

Zephaniah 3:14-15
14 Shout for joy, O daughter of Zion! Shout {in triumph,} O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all {your} heart, O daughter of Jerusalem!
15 The LORD has taken away {His} judgments against you, He has cleared away your enemies. The King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst; you will fear disaster no more.
(NAS)

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

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