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I Cast No Stones…

Thoughts From the Porch: It’s finally Fall in Texas. I was greeted by temperatures in the forties, a crystal-clear morning, and the song of birds that haven’t been around our area since last year. I haven’t put pen to paper or keyboard to screen in a bit. I had a tinge of disappointment when I realized this is the first October entry and there were only a couple for September.

It’s been a difficult couple of months. Margaret went to the hospital on Labor Day, came home two weeks later, and is back in the hospital again. The only good news is that this time it’s for a broken leg. We were heading to the porch when Maggie decided to bolt out the door, knocking her over, and breaking the tibial plateau. Apparently, this a rare break and she’ll have to keep pressure off the leg for the next twelve weeks. Leave it to us to try and be unique…

Anyway, my trips are once again between home, hospital, and Opal’s Farm. It’s an all-to-familiar cycle I hope to break (no pun intended Baby!) soon. We’d certainly appreciate your prayers…

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I found this gem in my morning meditation. Dorothy Day was the founder of the Catholic Worker movement. She spent her life ministering to “the least of these” – addicts, the homeless, the marginalized, and broken people. She often wrote in her diary of the temptation to give up. She also wrote of the reason that kept her going.

“Yes, I see only too clearly how bad people are. I wish I did not see it so. It is my own sins that give me clarity. If I did not bear the scars of so many sins to dim my sight and dull my capacity for love and joy, then I would see Christ more clearly in you all. I cannot worry much about your sins and miseries when I have so many of my own. I can only love you all, poor fellow travelers, fellow sufferers. I do not want to add one least straw to the burden you already carry. My prayer from day to day is that God will so enlarge my heart that I will see you all, and live with you all, in his love.”

Her honest look at herself – “the unwed pregnancy, her quick temper and often biting tongue – that allowed her to show grace to others.” (Phillip Yancey, What Good is God?). When I practice brutal honesty with myself I too, find grace much easier to extend to others.

I’ve often heard others quote Jesus, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone” but all-too-often I fail to put those words into practice. When I do, however, I find a peace I never dreamed possible.

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Dogs Don’t Just Eat Homework

I have no idea why this posted as “Auto Draft” but here’s the real headline…

Thoughts From the Porch: Last night filled with great music, hot coffee, and a chance to check the emails filling my inbox from the last few days. It may not be most folk’s idea of a great Saturday night but it’s fine by me. To sit and get caught up, especially in air-conditioned comfort, is a golden opportunity indeed.

I get a LOT of emails. Most get a quick scan and deleted but there are a few newsletters I read religiously. Pet MD sent their weekly update. Anything benefitting our fur babies is of utmost importance. We strive to be the best pet parents possible and always look for helpful tips to keep our pets in good health.

As a writer of content and copy I know the value of a great headline. This week’s Pet MD had one of the best I’ve seen – “What Should I Do If My Dog Ate Weed?” It got my attention right away. I’m not sure I would’ve been asking that question publicly. I did notice that it said weed and not “my” weed. You know, just in case…

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To be honest, I never thought of asking that question, but apparently, marijuana toxicity in dogs is on the rise; especially in states where it is now legal. Although I no longer indulge in THC (I’m in recovery, not judging), I imagine I would be mildly pissed if my dog ate my weed. From what I understand, the dime bag is a thing of the past…

How do you know if your dog ate your weed? According to PET MD, Clinical signs include:

  • Incoordination
  • Sensitivity to loud noises
  • Low heart rate
  • Dribbling urine
  • Dilation of the pupils
  • Low or high body temperature”

I would personally add to the list empty packages of Oreo cookies and Hostess Twinkies scattered about the house, a lack of motivation to chase the squirrel ten feet away, and an abnormal fascination with the television. Just saying…

During my younger and far more foolish years I had a Golden Retriever who once ate half a pan of THC-infused brownies (where they came from, I’ll never tell!). Had I known the potential for life-threatening illness I might not have had such a good laugh (after my initial anger over the lost and somewhat expensive brownies, of course). The THC made her quite content to lay on the edge of the porch and watch the cars pass by. I assume she enjoyed the rest of her evening. I know I did.

If I’d known then, what I know now…

Fortunately, my dog survived her momentary intoxication without any ill effects. In fact, she slept it off until the next afternoon. However, I did notice she was unusually attentive to the sound of storage baggies opening. Had I known about weed toxicity back then I might have been a bit worried, but all’s well that ends well…

The take-away from all this is don’t get your dog high, no matter how much they enjoy it, either intentionally or unintentionally. It’s not good for them. Store your weed (and your cookies) out of reach. Keep your weed and your pet safe and secure.

Have a great weekend my friends…

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“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Down On the Farm: Happy Labor Day to you all! Many folks get today off. There will be family get-togethers, barbeques, pool parties, and end-of-the summer celebrations. Please take a moment to remember why this day became a national holiday 125 years ago today. It was to celebrate the common worker and recognize the difficult, and often dangerous work of the American Labor Movement. If you’re saying thanks for the BBQ and a long weekend, take a moment to say thanks for our predecessors that made this day possible.

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Happy Birthday and Thank You…

Thoughts From the Porch: I slept in an extra hour this morning. You see, I turned sixty-one years old at about 2:58 AM. Happy Birthday to me, right? It had more to do with my body feeling my age rather than any secret celebration. It’s been brutally hot for the last couple of weeks. It simply caught up with me last night. Such is life…

I’m unsure of whether it was the oppressive heat or completing another trip around the sun that made me a bit reflective this week. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but I am right where I’m supposed to be.

I never thought I’d be farming in triple digit temperatures in my sixties. My goals were much different in my youth. But life has come full circle. Dreams have come true in ways I never imagined. My friend Charlie says I’ve found my ikagi: my reason for being and the thing for which I get up for in the morning.

I was born on the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation. The sixties, and unfortunately, the seventies and eighties, shaped much of my perception about success. I wanted to change the world when I was in college. Idealism isn’t all that unique for college-age. However, idealism doesn’t make one wealthy and that’s what everyone else deemed success. So, I traded idealism for pragmatism and chased whatever I thought was pleasing to others. I got lost somewhere along the way.

I won’t bore you with the details. I will tell you I was in my fifties before life ever began to make sense. That’s only because God began to make sense. Not the judgmental, punishing God of my youth, but a loving, forgiving God: one whom I could trust to have my back. The relationship I have with God today is the foundation for the life I get to live. It’s changed my perceptions and made me whole.

If the metric for success is salary, celebrity, or how many followers one has on social media, then I surely missed the mark. If, on the other hand, it’s about doing what you love and the people in one’s life, then I am rich beyond measure. I get up in the morning and know the day is a success even when it doesn’t feel like it, and it doesn’t at times. I’m still responsible for the bills. There’s usually more month than money…). I rarely understand how we make another month financially…

That being said, I trust God will take care of us even when I can’t possibly see how it’s going to be done. I show up, plant seeds, and water what comes up. It’s like that at Opal’s Farm. It’s like that in my life. I’m always surprised by the harvest.

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Words That Pull the Trigger

Thoughts From the Porch: We sold out early at the farmer’s market Saturday. We sold much of the week’s harvest on Wednesday, so we were a bit light for Saturday’s market. Our normal crowd was a bit smaller due to the rainy morning. Even a few of our farmers took the day off for other pursuits. Hopefully, everyone enjoyed a much-needed break from summer chores. I know I did.

Our friends Melvin and Janice called Friday night to invite us up to Lake Murray for a camping weekend. It was a perfect Saturday morning to leave market early and head to Oklahoma. Cell service is almost non-existent there. Spending a couple of days unplugged from everything is a periodic necessity. A couple of days in a quiet campsite with good friends is just what the doctor ordered!

Life is full of small pleasures. My Sunday morning meeting was covered by someone else, so I slept in for a change. Upon awakening I made the coffee and headed for some serious porch time. I made the mistake of checking out my CNN app and discovered twenty-nine people had been killed in two mass shootings just hours apart: one in El Paso and the other in Dayton, Ohio. It was difficult to separate the horror and sadness I experienced from the rising fury toward the hatefulness of the crimes.

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 I wanted to write about it but growing older (and hopefully wiser) has allowed me to hit the pause button on such occasions lest I speak or write out of anger. I tend to say things I later regret or that are misunderstood. It makes apologies and amends to others for my emotional outburst extremely difficult. So, I’ve mulled this over for the last couple of days before sharing my thoughts.

Same story, different day…

The storyline has become all-to familiar. Another mass shooting. The news covers all the vigils held to honor the dead. Finding relatives of the fallen or hospital room interviews with survivors are a ratings bonanza. There’s an outcry against gun violence. Politicians and political pundits from both sides of the aisle pontificate on how to prevent this from happening again, just as they did the last time and the time before that. What happened Sunday will happen again today, tomorrow, and so it goes.

According to data collected by the non-profit organization, Gun Violence Archive, (as of August 4th, 2019) a mass shooting is defined as “an event where at least four people, not including the gunman, were shot”. By this definition, there have been 292 mass shootings in last 219 days of this year alone. I’m no math wizard but according to my calculations, that’s 1.3 mass shootings a day.

We simply don’t hear about most of them. It seems only a large body count is newsworthy. Maybe we’ve become numb to “average” shootings. Many occur in communities most folks ignore anyway. Sadly, if this weekend’s events are like previous mass shootings, the media will play with the story for a few days until another ratings booster comes along…

Words can kill just like bullets

The FBI is unsure as to the motive of the Dayton shooter, but are treating the El Paso event as an act of domestic terrorism based on white supremacy. The shooter’s motives were clear so he several hundred miles to carry out a planned attack on immigrants because of the “Hispanic invasion of Texas”.

The “Hispanic invasion”. “Those people”. “Go back where you came from”. All words and phrases coming from the highest office in the land. All words that spark hate, division, and most of all, fear. When asked what we can do about the problem with those people, someone shouted, “shoot them” and everyone present laughed. Except for one 21-year-old from North Texas. He took those words literally…

I don’t know what to do about gun control, red flag laws, or mental health issues and gun violence. I don’t know if the present occupant of the White House will change his words, but maybe we should hold him accountable for those words. Words kill. They accounted for at least 22 of the deaths this weekend. Hateful words, attitudes, and divisiveness pulled the trigger as much as the gunman did. Donald Trump is as complicit in the El Paso shooting as the gunman.

What I do know is to counter hateful words and actions with love and grace, despite my anger and sadness. The grace shown to me by a loving Abba will guide my actions. I’ll not allow hate and division to interfere with loving and uniting others, especially “the others”.

What I know for certain is, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Edmund Burke (in a letter addressed to Thomas Mercer). I won’t be quiet, nor will I sit still.

Will you?