Out From Under the Umbrella

playing in the rain


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Friday Funday!

I heard this song on the radio a little while ago and now it’s stuck in my head! Ahhhhh!

Everybody who reads here knows I’m a 70’s music kinda woman. But what can I say?  My music tastes are ….um…eclectic.

I found this parody of it that’s pretty cute, too!

Have a great Friday, everybody!  And, as always, feel free to share whatever tune is stuck in your noggin.

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Addicted to God

I was reminded of this post as I read Zoe’s blog post this morning and the subsequent comments. Addictions are hard to break.

Out From Under the Umbrella

When we became a Christians it was because we loved God and we loved Jesus.  Our pastors and the Bible promised us that they loved us first.  After all, Jesus had sacrificed himself for us and for all mankind.  God loved us enough to give us breath and then he loved us enough to make provision for our sinfulness.  Not only that he made the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth and everything in it for our use and pleasure.  Though we never actually heard his voice, though we never saw him we knew he was there because his word told us so.  We believed.  That’s right, love was the reason for it all.

What next? Now that we were Christians what were we supposed to do?  Read our Bibles, pray, and go to Church?  We did.  Faithfully.  Beyond that what was there?  Reading the Bible and praying and…

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Free Association.”

red-mud-puddle

Anyone who has read here for very long knows that I’m from Small Town, USA.  Make that Southern Small Town, USA.  Home of red clay.

When I was a kid I got into soooo much trouble one day after a big rain.  We had a trench, more like a ditch, that ran the length of our property.  It was full of the reddest clay dirt you’ve ever seen.  Some of the neighborhood kids and I thought that a game of war involving said red clay as mud bombs would be cool.  It was.  Now those are some cool IED’s. We built mortar shells of red clay and lobbed them back and forth at each other, ducking, and dodging, and hiding behind things.  For hours.  It was a blast (pun intended).

The shit didn’t hit the fan until my mother saw me, though.  See, I decided if I was going to get all wet I should probably wear my swim suit.  That brand new one that we’d just bought the day before.  That brand new white swim suit.  Which was now ruined because red clay does not come out.

What I learned that day carried me far beyond that childish mud slinging incident.  You see, one of the “perks” of living in Small Town is that everybody knows everybody.  And everybody knows everybody else’ business.  If they don’t, hell, they’ll make it up.

The thing about mud slinging, though, is that anytime you want to sling it you’ve got to get your hands dirty, too.


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Solidarity, Unity, Humanity

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I don’t watch a lot of news.  Just enough, usually, to catch up on the day’s events.  But much like during the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks on America I have found it compelling to watch the news following the attack on Charlie Hebdo.  I grieve with the French, the Jewish, and Muslims who have suffered great losses.  I grieve the lives of those snuffed out by an ideology which tolerates no other.

If you’ve read much here you know that I am not a believer.  I don’t believe in any kind of deity.  However, I will defend the right of others to practice the faith of their choosing. Up to a point.  When that practice crosses over to extremism, violence, and abuse I feel we all, every one of us, has a duty to oppose it.

Having watched much of what is transpiring in France – the prevailing attitudes and multitudes flooding the streets I am inspired as I was after 9/11 that the future is brighter in spite of those who would have it another way.

“Go on doing with your pen what in other times was done with the sword.” – Thomas Jefferson

“The tongue is mightier than the blade.” – Euripides

“The pen is mightier than the sword.” – Edward Bulwer-Lytton

There will always be those who seek to silence those with whom they disagree whether by might or by intimidation.  There will always be radicals who take their ideals to extremes.  There will always be bullies.  They only win when they have achieved the silence of those with whom they take offense.  There is freedom of speech but clearly it is not free.  It comes at a great price.

I hope the time has come and will not fade away, as is the way, to unite in solidarity against this radical extremism.  I hope the time has come that people, regardless of race or religion, will stand together as humans.

No, I am not a believer, but je suis juif, je suis France, je suis Charlie Hebdo, je suis muslim.  Today I am human. Today I am a humanist.


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A Bird in the Hand

On Christmas Day TheBrit came running into the house shouting for me.  I was upstairs getting dressed to go out to my sister’s house for Christmas dinner.  “Ruth! Ruth!! Come quick!”

“What in the world?  I’m trying to get ready.  Give me a minute,”  I responded standing at the top of the stairs looking down at TheBrit who has his hands cupped around something.

“I need your help!”  He opened his hands and exclaimed, “I just rescued this from Scamper and Stumpy.  They were out there fighting over it.”

Now, Stumpy you see, is a three legged cat.  Try as  he might he’s not quite fast enough to catch a bird.  But Scamper can, and does, on occasion.  When he does Stumpy tries to take his catch off him.

The poor little bird was a little shocked.  And one of his wings was…not broken, but not 100% either.

So I took the tiny bird from TheBrit’s hands, who immediately got the camera and started snapping pictures.

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A Bird in Shock

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Sweet little birdie

I’ve done a cursory search and haven’t been able to identify the species.

When TheBrit was done with his picture taking I took the little fellow a good ways away to a tree with some brush around it and let him go. We waited a bit and went back to check on him. He was still in the spot I’d left him.  I don’t know if that was a good thing or not.

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Then on New Year’s Day, as I was walking past the bird feeder to go and cut some flowers, there he was – that beautiful red cardinal.  I knew it was too much to hope for; that he would hang about long enough for me to go back in after the camera.  When I emerged ready to snap his visage he was gone.  Eluded me again!  One day…

By the time I’d returned there were these – everywhere –  which I’m fairly certain after a quick Google search are Brown House Sparrows:

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