And The Greatest is This

Religious views always differ from person to person. Always.

The idea of faith never changes.  Faith is Believing.  Christian, Catholic, Baptist, Lutheran, Muslim, Cherokee or voodoo… it all takes faith, believing, trusting in something other than yourself.

To not have a religious view or faith in someone other than yourself still requires a faith.  A faith of yourself, a trust that you are right.  Life takes faith.

1 Corinthians 13

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become a sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have no love, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.  But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part.

But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face.  Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love these three; but the greatest of these is love. 

Life takes love.

Mark 12: 31

And the second, like it, is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no other commandment greater than these.

Faith, Hope, Love.  It’s all we got.

Faith is not about which pastor you follow, which books you read, or how many lines of scripture you can rattle off.  Religion is not about being perfect or about being better than another.  It’s about faith, hope and love.  It’s about living your faith, showing it through you actions and leaving the judging to the one who is truly in charge.

We hope to inspire, hope to change, hope to grow.

We love with all we have, and have the faith that we shall be loved back.

And the greatest is Love.

 

{This is an oldy from a different blog I used to have, but seems extremely relevant today, so much so that I couldn’t find one part that I wanted to edit}

True Story

It was a dark, damp, creepy morning.  Braving the elements I crept outside, giving my all, to make sure my faithful canines were well taken care of.  My Belgian Malinois on one side, my Australian Cattle dog on my other side.  Carefully we made our way down to their yards, cautiously keeping our eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

Quickly it leapt from the shadows, some mysterious creature, with fangs a foot long, dripping with crimson.  I could tell it wanted my precious four-footed friends, and I was prepared to stop it.

I leapt towards it, as it snarled at me, grabbing it’s gnarly, slimy fur in my fingers.  I pulled and pushed, as it slashed at me with its dagger like claws.  I punched, and jabbed, as it fought back.

My canines faithfully snapped at the horrific creature, as it fought me with all its might.  But I commanded them to stay back out of harm’s way.  The creature pounced on top of me, crashing me to the ground, its rancid drool, hanging dangerously close to my face.  I closed my eyes, preparing to deal it one last brutal blow.  And with all my might I shoved my fist deep into it’s gut, sending the rabid creature screaming into the woods.

{I swear that’s what happened yesterday.  Honest to gawd and such.  That’s why my leg is all black and blue.  That’s why I can’t move any muscle in my entire body.  Honest.  Because we all know my husband’s lovely dog is so well-trained that he would never run after a damn shadow and knock me into the air, to land square on my back.   Ugh.}

The end.

 

~Free Stuffs~

I’m in the middle of stepping up my “goods” on Etsy.  By stepping up I mean my arms are falling off from working on full sized blankets, cable knitted scarves, and snazzy things that take lots of work.  And all of this takes oddles of time.

While I’m taking oddles of time to make all of these detailed, anal retentive type objects, I’m working away in the mornings on basic items to fill my shop.  Because you can’t sell things if there’s nothing to sell, and yada yada yada.

And this is where the Free Stuffs come in.  While all this madness is going on I need to still consider promotions, getting my name out there and stuffs.  ’Cept between everything else I seem to be running out of “free” time in which to promote.  So I’m turning to you, and waving free stuffs in front of your nose.  ;)

I have these:

 

That are getting ready to enter my shop soon.  They are 100% cotton, hand knit, workout/yoga headbands.  Less than 2 inches wide, these are more like the nylon ones you’d buy at the store, than the big thick ear warmers you normally see.  The cotton is gentle on hair, and absorbs sweat, while fully washable.  The cinch part can go on the top of your head, or at the back of your head, depending on your tastes.

I’m looking for a few bloggers who’d like to try one out in the color of their choice, then blog them up, and possibly (possibly meaning reviews and blogging them up with no giveaway is fine too) give one away to their readers.  You don’t personally need to pick one out for you!  It can be for your daughter, grand daughter, whomever.

If you’d like more information please feel free to contact me at jemily383 (at) gmail (dot) com.

Thanks!  *hurries back to work*

I’m Cancelling Summer

I couldn’t be more excited.  I’m cancelling summer!  Yup, you read that right… I’m cancelling the whole dang thing!

Okay, so I’m not actually cancelling the season known as summer, that would be crazy talk, and it’s my favorite season.  I’m cancelling MY summer, my demands, my expectations, my normal go-to plans.

I’m calling off the usual spring rush of starting seedlings, and buying new chicks. I’m calling off summer camp for the boy.  I’m calling off the massive dreams of finally fixing up our yard.  Done.  Deleted.  Ain’t gonna happen.

I’m letting the sunny days free fly around here.  We’re gonna do, or we’re gonna do not.  We’ll sip lemonade, and not worry about catching that dang bus for summer camp.  We’ll roll in the grass, and practice our taekwando moves in the sprinkler.

I’m going to play in my garden, and flip the bird to the dang drought we’ve been predicted to have, once again.  No buying seed, no buying plants.  It’s a season to create pretty walkways, and fences, and dance with the kids.

We’ll doodle in notebooks, and color with chalk on the driveway.  We’re gonna grill, and burn our tongues on marshmallows.  That ugly coop, it will get finished someday, and when it does, we’re gonna paint murals in it, with finger paints… because we can.

I’m going to create.  And I’m going to have that date with me, under that big shade tree, while I throw that stupid to-do list into the bonfire.  Because I am cancelling summer.

 

 

 

What If

I’ve been thinking a lot lately.  That’s the kind of thing that happens while you sit at your desk, knitting until your fingers and wrists go numb, watching millions of images load ever so slowly on your dino-dial-ups for Pintrest.  There’s been topics fluttering in my mind, words to mash out on this blank screen… but knitting doesn’t work well with typing.  You loose your count and your train of thought all at one time.  Trust me.

And it’s hard to work on this, when you need to work on that.  Priorities wrestle with wants.  Needs fling mud at desires.  Options and choices wrestle in the jello pit that once was a functional brain.  Everything fights you, time, budgets, noises, small people wanting things.

It’s like the first time I looked into selling handmade goods on Etsy, they say, “Choose one medium”.  Choose one.  Like that’s possible for me.  I can knit, crochet, draw, paint, sew, quill, carve, stamp, shape… not that I have valuable skills in every form, but choosing one is like asking me if I want to keep my right or my left leg… um, all please?

I want to do it all, because what if I choose the wrong one?  My hobby is hobbies.  But I want one to be mine.  Or at least three.  Maybe four.  My hard limit is at nine, honestly.

And somehow this all links back to writing.  What if.  I mean really, what if?  What if while I’m busy training dogs (or not so busy, thank you economy), and knitting my fingers off to pay the bills, supporting my writer friends, promoting them, blogging about nothing, chasing kids, trying to make a garden/homestead on a rock bed, pretending I know how to sing for the fake band… What if, deep in my computer’s files, laying in wait, is the next big thing.  And in my interview with Ellen (because Oprah erks me to no end) she asks how long it took me to write this book, that instantly sold out, and the movie rights were bought before it was even published… I have to say, twenty years.  And I have to admit that for 19 of those years it was sitting there in my computer’s memory, because I was too friggen scared/hard on myself to even try.  And she’s going to laugh and call me cute, while holding up one of my washcloths and make some cute joke about loving Jesus and drinking beer.

Okay so I doubt that’s how anything would unfold.  But what if?

But where’s the time?  And where the frick, is the confidence?  Because all I know is that them washcloths will not make themselves.  And sitting here, typing about what if’s does not pay the bills.

*pours more coffee*

~A Quick Short Story~

She took a deep breath, and told the boy, she’d never let go.

She ignored his warnings.  The promises of the demons lining the road ahead of him.  The mountains, valleys, and rivers that blocked the way.

She’d walk it all with him.

Her heart, her soul, would be trampled, bruised, and scraped.  A casualty of his pains, not the victim.  She couldn’t turn away.

The path would be cold, and lonely.  Covered in shadows, and bitter winds.  It would hurt, and she would be hurt, but she’d never let go of that boy.

And maybe he was right, maybe one day, together, they would reach the end of that path.  And they could both laugh, together, at the trials they had conquered, the fear they had tackled.

Then together, hand in hand, they would continue down the next one, towards the next mountain that needed to be moved.

And then the next one.  And the next one.

And she would never let go.

The Day that was Yesterday

We’re just going to go ahead and ignore the fact that I didn’t post anything yesterday.  Only because in actual reality, I did write, several things in fact, I just declined to push that pesky “publish” button.

Honestly, I wrote tons, tons and tons… on facebook chat.  It counts.

I was simply having a Monday, disguised as a Wednesday type of day.  I mean really, my day started with everyone waking up while it was still my “momma’s quiet coffee time”, then my mom called to inform me she had my dog’s ashes, then our “basement/farm” cat never came back from his nightly “romp” (he came back this morning), then I got a huge case of “nobodycaresaroundhereandI’mprettysuremychoresaregoingtoeatmealive”.

As I was crying it out on chat with a dear friend, I hear mad honking outside.  I love how the UPS guy always drives through at the toddler’s nap time, and has to blast his dang horn to announce his arrival.  So he pulls out a box, with a florist name on the side.  And I seriously thought when a certain friend sent me a note about something special heading my way, that this was that, and I was seriously surprised.

So I lug the box inside, and open it up, to find my husband’s name on the card… and then I lost it.  The day crumbled me into a mushy pile of tears.

I promptly grab my phone and text my husband, “You big jerk head.”  Then I went to take a picture of the flowers, to send to him with a note on how his timing was perfect and made me cry…

But my phone died.  Like dead died.  Like wouldn’t function to save my life.  All he got was, “You big jerk head.”

Yup.  No joke.  That was my day.  Granted, hilarious by that point.

An hour later my phone was up and running, with a text, “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”  And by that point I was laughing hysterically, because there was nothing else to do.

Yes you may laugh at me now.  ;)

And because obviously I need a new phone before I start some sort of world war with incomplete text, I’m having a “Day Before Chocolate Goes on Sale Day” Sale over at my Etsy shop, White Goat Ranch.  Use the code, “BEMINE” and get 15% off of your entire order!  Today only!  (Counts on Custom orders placed today as well!!!)

~Commercial Break~

 

 

http://www.whitegoatranch.etsy.com

Now we’ll take you back to your regular blogging….

 

A Monday Ramble

There’s some very good benefits to giving up on the whole “real writing” deal.

Like stats, I can finally give up on checking the dang stats every time I publish a new post here.  Sure I still look, but it’s easier to shrug them off now.  Also, it’s a tad bit easier to pull something out of nothing for NaBloPoMo, I’ve lost the worry over “What will Blogher want to see?”  and “What will they feature, or better yet Syndicate?”  And there’s the daunting, “Oh my gawd, people will see that post and think I’m crazy for even thinking I could be a writer!”  Lost that one too.

I needed a huge dose of “I don’t care” a very long time ago.  Because I always cared, always, and I cared too much.

Which is a confusing mix of inner voices, because all the time when I was striving for this goal or that, letting my feelings get tied into who did what, and why not me… the whole time I was battling whether or not any of it was even the path for me.  Mental punishment for both trying and for not trying hard enough.

Now I get to sick back and laugh at it all.  And it feels good.  I don’t have to care anymore.  I can just enjoy putting words out into the interwebs… or not.

Granted, quitting something before you even really step out and try it on, probably isn’t the best “Go me” moment.   Because when you get down to it, blogging and writing, are a whole heap of sameness, yet couldn’t be further apart.  There’s such safety hiding behind little blurbs of thoughts, but writing, as in sending your works out to someone specifically, waiting for them, hoping they choose you… yeah.

Maybe one day I won’t be able to hold back those little voices in my head who want to walk down the aisle of a bookstore and see my name sitting on the shelf.  But for now, I’m happy to be free from them.

~Ten Things~

I’m tongue tied this morning, or more so finger tied.  I’m tripping over thoughts as I try to type them, and I’ve already wasted too much time this morning staring at this blank screen, so let’s make this easy, shall we?

Going with the theme this month from BlogHer, 10 things I love in no particular order as they randomly pop into my head:

1. Waking up early, and having what I call “A Date with my Brain”.  Aka, me time, with my coffee and complete silence.
2. Warm rains.  The kind you can stand out in without freezing your arse off.
3. Sketching with thick paper and a super sharp pencil.
4. The smell of a stable.  Something about the mix of leather, hay, and horse hair gets me every time.
5. Letters from friends, real ones, in the mail.
6. Giggles from the children.
7. Fresh warm bread with butter.  Has to have butter.
8. Sitting at a fire.
9. Throwing rocks into a river.
10. Opening a brand new, fresh, analog, book.  Aka, one made out of paper.

Quick, what’s ten things that you love?