The Unlucky Rabbit's Foot

My dogs do not like the rain. When the grass is wet they have no desire in the world to go outside. So on this gray and rainy day, one of my favorite combinations in the whole world by the way, imagine my surprise when the doggies I normally force to go outside in the wet weather were gone a full 15 minutes. They have a wireless fence and respect the warning sound they get before the buzz to check their forward motion kicks in. Usually vocal about wanting to come in, I assumed they were sitting on the porch waiting for me to get around to letting opening the door. Then, being an anxiety ridden clown, I began to panic thinking that they had escaped the fence and were out on the highway about to be run over. As dramatic as that sounds I live at the end of a cul-de-sac with nothing but vacant lots past my house. Not a lot of traffic there, you know? So, telling myself they were alright, I went to the door and called them. I heard nothing in response.

It is never a good thing when your kids or your dogs are too quiet, unless of course they are asleep. I called a little louder from the front door and received no response. I went to the back door and called. I heard the jingling of their ID tags and knew they would come to the front door. While silence is seldom a good thing, two dogs licking their chops as they prance to the door sort of confirms your worst fears. My neighbors have goats and chickens in the pasture behind my house. My dogs invisible fence doesn't allow them to go to the neighbors fence, but their chickens often hop over to eat the june bugs in my yard and they are welcome to them. I began to fear my dogs had killed a wayward chicken, so I put some shoes on and went on a search and recovery mission.

There are many reasons I wish I that I was a married woman. Right up there on the list is having to do things like finding the unlucky rabbit's foot and what remains of the haunch and entrails out in my back yard and having to be the one to clean it up. If ever there were man's work, that's it. I immediately began negotiating with God in interest. "If you will send me a husband, I promise to be a godly wife. I'll submit to his leadership and everything, just please don't make me have to pick up dead animals anymore. I don't want to be the one who goes to see what's wrong when the weird noises happen. I don't know jack about how to fix the garage door and don't want the responsibility any more. I can't paint the house and it needs it. There's a litany of things I need and can't do myself and half again as many things I just want because they would be nice. Someone to travel with, someone laugh with...you know, normal things like that. Please don't make me go into the crawl space to determine what that funky smell is either. It's not good for man to be alone? What about crazy aging women like me??DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!!"

All very selfish reasons for wanting a spouse. None of them biblical. I am sinful, but honest about it.

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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