My daughter is a drama queen. With a really big heart. God has BIG plans for this little girl. And so do I.
She has been having recurring nightmares about little kids burning in a house fire. I don't know if it is because of that one night when we were driving down the road and actually saw a house with flames shooting out of the windows and around the roof even before the firetrucks arrived, or if she overheard Johnny and me talking a few days later about a different house fire where a little boy saw the flames and told his mom and they reached the house just in time to save the people inside, or if she learned about Hell at Sunday School (or maybe all of the above).
But her biggest fear right now is fire. She flips out if I light a candle. She starts crying at really random times of the day and asks me if I know of a little kid who got burned in a fire.
Well, of course I have had fire safety talks with her since this all started, and tried to calm her fears about my candles, telling her how super careful I am, and never leave them unattended or near anything that might catch on fire. When that didn't work, and she was scared that I might burn myself, I even did the really cool magic trick where I ran my finger through the flame and proved to her that it didn't hurt because I am SuperMom. I know, that's risky, but I was at my wit's end! You don't know how many HOURS I stayed up with her, wiping away her tears! I had to show her that her Daddy and I know how to handle little candles and we are super careful.
And she doesn't believe I'm SuperMom anyways. She's never seen me fly. And there was that one time, when she asked me a question and I said, "I don't know." Her reply? "Ha! I thought you said you know EVERYTHING! You don't know everything, do you?"
Pedestal destroyed by my five-year-old.
But, surprisingly, the magic trick worked. She is no longer afraid that I will burst into flames if I go near a burning candle. And since I told her that I do not personally know any children who have been burned in a fire, she has stopped asking that question.
So that's her greatest fear at the moment, temporarily subdued. Her previous one? That someone would come through her window and try to take her. Her reasoning? I told her she was the most beautiful little girl in the entire world (coupled with the first time she watched Rapunzel, where the mean Mother Gothel stole the baby and snuck out through the window). After weeks of trying, unsuccessfully, to convince her that no one was going to steal her (because Mommy and Daddy would protect her, because there was furniture blocking her window, because she was too big, because she talks too much - I tried everything I could think of), I finally broke down and told her the one thing no parent EVER wants to tell their child.
I told her she was not, actually, the most beautiful girl in the entire world. She is beautiful, and sweet, and smart, and precious. But there will always be someone more beautiful, sweeter, smarter. I almost cried when I told her that.
Sadly, it worked. And succeeded in breaking my heart. I'm a terrible mother. In trying to help my child, I hurt her, although she won't realize that pain until later on in life. At that moment, she was just relieved that no one would be trying to take her. She no longer fears being kidnapped.
Now, she fears fire. But not for herself, strangely enough. She is afraid of fire for me and for other little children she does not know. Random children. Big heart.
And have I ever mentioned what her one wish would be? We were talking about the Bible story of when God told King Solomon that he could have anything he wanted in the world, just name it. He asked for wisdom. And because he chose wisdom, and not riches and the life of his enemies, God gave him the wisdom, and the riches, and the lives of his enemies. So, I asked Angelyn what she would say if God told her she could have anything in the world.
My daughter said she would ask that God give every person in the entire world their own house. Because there are some little children who do not have a house and a family like she does.
I have never been more proud of my baby girl than at that moment. And a little disappointed in myself. I think I would have wished for a BIGGER house for myself. Well, I know I would have. Read my post about my dream home. I wrote that just a few days before my Baby Girl made her wish.
Maybe, instead of my little girl trying to be like me, I should try to be like her.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Seven Years of Wedded Bliss(ters)
Bliss:
I love you.
- Family grows - A gorgeous 10-pound baby girl with blue eyes and brown hair, just what we dreamed!
- A shoulder to cry on
- A friend
- Second income!
- Family trips to a ballgame
- Watching our baby go through two surgeries before the age of three
- Heart problems
- Job loss
- Several wrecks
- Deaths in the extended families
- Late nights with a sick child
- Disagreements over minor things, and some major things
- Dreams put on hold
- Four moves in five years
- Family movie night
- Sitting on the "Perry Pew" at church with my husband by my side and my daughter in my lap
- Teaching Angelyn to swim and watching her run around laughing and screaming, "No more floaties!"
- Receiving love notes from my kindergartener that read, "I love you Mommy you are the Best and I love you" and then watching her write the same one for her Daddy
- Hubby sees how tired I am and tells me to go lay down and he will tend to putting Angelyn to bed
- Hugs on demand, and sometimes unexpected
- New Dreams
- Amazing jobs
- Anticipated move
- Mommy's Night Out With The Girls
- Family
I love you.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wal-Mart. Nuff Said.
Have I ever mentioned that I hate Wal-Mart? They are always - ALWAYS - out of at least one thing on my list, and they move things around so often that I can't ever just go in, grab something, and run out. Oh, and they never have enough cashiers.
Never.
Ever.
So, my general practice (when I can't avoid going to Wal-Mart because they do carry some things that Kroger does not - assuming it's in stock when I get there), is to leave Angelyn home with Johnny and block out several hours for a "quick trip" to the store.
I try to be patient with the fact that there is an obstacle course made up of buggies left in the middle of the road and crazy people driving the wrong way down a one-way and non-handicapped people trying to figure out why the Wal-Mart wheelchair stops working in the middle of the parking lot (if they were handicapped, why wouldn't they park in one of the bajillions of handicapped parking spaces?).
After applauding myself for surviving the parking lot, I grab a buggy and begin my shopping. But, because of the way they lay out Wal-Mart, I have to start at the back of the store where the soft drinks and laundry detergent are, make my way up the aisles toward the bread (otherwise my bread would be smooshed by my Diet Coke in the buggy), and then go all the way BACK to the BACK of the store at the frozen foods and start my way back up toward the meat, so my cold stuff stays as cold as possible. And then I realize that the vitamins and toothpaste are on the opposite side of the store, so my carefully-planned road map is moot.
Then comes the fun part: Checking Out!! Wooooooohooooooo!
Like I said, there are never enough cashiers. So I choose the shortest line, only to find out what everyone else apparently knew: this is the slowest cashier in the history of Wal-Mart. What would have taken someone else about 5 minutes took this girl 25. No kidding. I timed it. Okay, not really, but it felt like 25 minutes.
I finally get to where I'm next, and the lady in front of me is paying out, when there is another delay (as if her holding up the lady in front of this one to go search the store for a gas card to save her ten cents per gallon wasn't bad enough). The cashier hollers something to this effect: "Hey, Mr. So-and-So, I need dimes!"
Okay, no big deal. She needs dimes. Wait. What? Dimes? So this girl 1) waits until she is completely OUT of dimes to ask for more; and 2) doesn't realize that she can use nickels instead?
By this time I'm just laughing to myself. It's quite funny, actually. I didn't want to embarass her by suggesting nickels, so I waited, patiently.
As she was scanning my items, she said, with surprise in her voice, "Do y'all eat a lot of ketchup?" I was a little confused, because I only bought one bottle (granted, it was the BIGGEST bottle they had), and had to laugh out loud. "Well, yes, actually, we do," I replied.
What I didn't tell her is that this one bottle of ketchup just MIGHT last us a week. I usually get two or more of them. I have even bought the restaurant-sized ones before, the kind with the pump, that's like HUGE.
I left Wal-Mart laughing. Which is much better than how it usually turns out.
Always an Adventure.
:o) Gotta love Wal-Mart!
Never.
Ever.
So, my general practice (when I can't avoid going to Wal-Mart because they do carry some things that Kroger does not - assuming it's in stock when I get there), is to leave Angelyn home with Johnny and block out several hours for a "quick trip" to the store.
I try to be patient with the fact that there is an obstacle course made up of buggies left in the middle of the road and crazy people driving the wrong way down a one-way and non-handicapped people trying to figure out why the Wal-Mart wheelchair stops working in the middle of the parking lot (if they were handicapped, why wouldn't they park in one of the bajillions of handicapped parking spaces?).
After applauding myself for surviving the parking lot, I grab a buggy and begin my shopping. But, because of the way they lay out Wal-Mart, I have to start at the back of the store where the soft drinks and laundry detergent are, make my way up the aisles toward the bread (otherwise my bread would be smooshed by my Diet Coke in the buggy), and then go all the way BACK to the BACK of the store at the frozen foods and start my way back up toward the meat, so my cold stuff stays as cold as possible. And then I realize that the vitamins and toothpaste are on the opposite side of the store, so my carefully-planned road map is moot.
Then comes the fun part: Checking Out!! Wooooooohooooooo!
Like I said, there are never enough cashiers. So I choose the shortest line, only to find out what everyone else apparently knew: this is the slowest cashier in the history of Wal-Mart. What would have taken someone else about 5 minutes took this girl 25. No kidding. I timed it. Okay, not really, but it felt like 25 minutes.
I finally get to where I'm next, and the lady in front of me is paying out, when there is another delay (as if her holding up the lady in front of this one to go search the store for a gas card to save her ten cents per gallon wasn't bad enough). The cashier hollers something to this effect: "Hey, Mr. So-and-So, I need dimes!"
Okay, no big deal. She needs dimes. Wait. What? Dimes? So this girl 1) waits until she is completely OUT of dimes to ask for more; and 2) doesn't realize that she can use nickels instead?
By this time I'm just laughing to myself. It's quite funny, actually. I didn't want to embarass her by suggesting nickels, so I waited, patiently.
As she was scanning my items, she said, with surprise in her voice, "Do y'all eat a lot of ketchup?" I was a little confused, because I only bought one bottle (granted, it was the BIGGEST bottle they had), and had to laugh out loud. "Well, yes, actually, we do," I replied.
What I didn't tell her is that this one bottle of ketchup just MIGHT last us a week. I usually get two or more of them. I have even bought the restaurant-sized ones before, the kind with the pump, that's like HUGE.
I left Wal-Mart laughing. Which is much better than how it usually turns out.
Always an Adventure.
:o) Gotta love Wal-Mart!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Favorite Part of Vacation
Are you coming or going?
For the longest time, I thought the best part of vacation was BEING on vacation. Until this year. I finally realized that while I am on vacation, I am usually disappointed that I am there (although having a great time) and not counting down until time to go on vacation (only three more days of vacation, etc., etc.). What a waste of a perfectly good vacation that is! To always be worried that soon we'll be on our way home, and then it's just "back to the ole grind" as they say in my family (do they say that in yours?).
And why should the "ole grind" be that bad? I finally have a job that I absolutely LOVE. Compared to some other jobs I've had (mostly involving changing dirty diapers or cleaning dirty tables), sitting at my computer, typing legal documents and answering the telephones while sharing funny stories with Abby across the hall, I've got vacation every single workday!
Nevertheless, no matter how wonderful your job is, everyone NEEDS a restful vacation and the casual weekend adventure (even if said adventure is played out between the bindings of a book while I sit soaking in a hot bubble bath on a Saturday evening).
So, last week, my family took a vacation.
And when I say "my family," what I really mean is my almost-ENTIRE extended Perry family. I believe there were 25 of us in a cabin, together, for an entire week. Twelve FAMILIES (think small children screaming and racing up and down the stairs, shooting each other with water pistols) under the same roof!
Scared yet?
In my personal opinion, with a couple of exceptions, that is the BEST way to have a vacation! Granted, it was a twelve-bedroom, twelve-bath chalet called Morning View Manor at the Preserve Resort, not some dinky little cabin in the woods. And it was set on the very top of a mountain the Great Smoky Mountain range, just outside of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. The view from the many balconies looked very much like this:
Heaven.
With our own little suite for Johnny, Angelyn, and me, and a car to help us escape when we got "cabin fever," we had a great time. Thanks, Mamaw, for such an awesome vacation home, and for being the Matriarch of the most AMAZING family EVER!
But I still caught myself thinking, "only three more days of bliss, and then it's 'back to the ole grind'". Ugh! Get out of my head! I spent the 52 weeks before vacation counting down to the day we left, and spent the week we were gone miserably counting down until we had to return. Thankfully, while we were there, Mamaw reserved another cabin for us for next year, so I have something else to count down to.
But why do I always have to be either coming or going? Why can't I just BE somewhere and enjoy myself?
Looking back on the week, we had a blast. I taught Angelyn to swim, she rode a horse, we went to shows and museums and drove around the mountains "getting lost" and seeing how long it took to get back, we went "bear hunting" at Cade's Cove, Johnny ziplined (you won't catch me DEAD hanging by a wire over a mountain valley!), and we all just had so much fun.
But that's just it. I'm looking back. I need to learn to quit counting down to the next Fun Time and create one here, now.
I don't want to come or go. I want to be.
Today, I may not be in the hills of Tennessee, but I am in my favorite state in the U.S. I'm home in Louisiana, with sunny skies and green grass (well, mostly - we are in a record drought, you know) and fabulous heat and humidity. I have a husband who loves me, a child who wants to be like me when she grows up (so she said this morning), parents who still look after me, and one amazing church to go to tonight.
"This is the day the Lord hath made. I WILL rejoice and be glad in it."
"For I have learned that whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content."
For the longest time, I thought the best part of vacation was BEING on vacation. Until this year. I finally realized that while I am on vacation, I am usually disappointed that I am there (although having a great time) and not counting down until time to go on vacation (only three more days of vacation, etc., etc.). What a waste of a perfectly good vacation that is! To always be worried that soon we'll be on our way home, and then it's just "back to the ole grind" as they say in my family (do they say that in yours?).
And why should the "ole grind" be that bad? I finally have a job that I absolutely LOVE. Compared to some other jobs I've had (mostly involving changing dirty diapers or cleaning dirty tables), sitting at my computer, typing legal documents and answering the telephones while sharing funny stories with Abby across the hall, I've got vacation every single workday!
Nevertheless, no matter how wonderful your job is, everyone NEEDS a restful vacation and the casual weekend adventure (even if said adventure is played out between the bindings of a book while I sit soaking in a hot bubble bath on a Saturday evening).
So, last week, my family took a vacation.
And when I say "my family," what I really mean is my almost-ENTIRE extended Perry family. I believe there were 25 of us in a cabin, together, for an entire week. Twelve FAMILIES (think small children screaming and racing up and down the stairs, shooting each other with water pistols) under the same roof!
Scared yet?
In my personal opinion, with a couple of exceptions, that is the BEST way to have a vacation! Granted, it was a twelve-bedroom, twelve-bath chalet called Morning View Manor at the Preserve Resort, not some dinky little cabin in the woods. And it was set on the very top of a mountain the Great Smoky Mountain range, just outside of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. The view from the many balconies looked very much like this:
Heaven.
With our own little suite for Johnny, Angelyn, and me, and a car to help us escape when we got "cabin fever," we had a great time. Thanks, Mamaw, for such an awesome vacation home, and for being the Matriarch of the most AMAZING family EVER!
But I still caught myself thinking, "only three more days of bliss, and then it's 'back to the ole grind'". Ugh! Get out of my head! I spent the 52 weeks before vacation counting down to the day we left, and spent the week we were gone miserably counting down until we had to return. Thankfully, while we were there, Mamaw reserved another cabin for us for next year, so I have something else to count down to.
But why do I always have to be either coming or going? Why can't I just BE somewhere and enjoy myself?
Looking back on the week, we had a blast. I taught Angelyn to swim, she rode a horse, we went to shows and museums and drove around the mountains "getting lost" and seeing how long it took to get back, we went "bear hunting" at Cade's Cove, Johnny ziplined (you won't catch me DEAD hanging by a wire over a mountain valley!), and we all just had so much fun.
But that's just it. I'm looking back. I need to learn to quit counting down to the next Fun Time and create one here, now.
I don't want to come or go. I want to be.
Today, I may not be in the hills of Tennessee, but I am in my favorite state in the U.S. I'm home in Louisiana, with sunny skies and green grass (well, mostly - we are in a record drought, you know) and fabulous heat and humidity. I have a husband who loves me, a child who wants to be like me when she grows up (so she said this morning), parents who still look after me, and one amazing church to go to tonight.
"This is the day the Lord hath made. I WILL rejoice and be glad in it."
"For I have learned that whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content."
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Charlie Perry
My hero.
Taught me to roller skate in his driveway. I must've been 6 or 7. He held my hand and taught me to go slow until I was sure of myself. Caught me when I fell.
Watching him, without even realizing I was watching him, I learned the importance of service. Serve he did. He served by putting around the Campgrounds in his little overalls, fixing whatever needed to be fixed. He served by sitting at the Tape Ministry booth in Bro. T. W. Barnes' church in Minden, Louisiana. He served by helping my dad build a new house. He served by mowing lawns, driving grandchildren around, chaperoning Superintendents, and doing just absolutely whatever needed doing. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I subconsciously choose to idolize him after he passed away and choose to block out the imperfections, but I just don't recall ever hearing him complain.
Except when it came to laziness or waste. As a kid, I remember seeing him go to each of his nine grandchildren, asking which one of them left a half-full can of Coke on the table. When none confessed, he grumbled for a while about the importance of money and the sin of wastefulness (remnants of the Great Depression Era?). In a gentle, caring, grandfatherly sort of way. To this day, I think of him every time I see a half-full can of Coke abandoned.
My Papaw would sit in his rocking chair after a long day of work, waiting for a beebopping little rugrat to scurry by, and he would bribe us with a quarter if we stopped long enough to sit on his lap and gave him a hug. I would give every penny I have ever made if I could go back for another one of those hugs.
I remember fussing because he would let us ride in the back of his truck, but he would never go over 25 miles per hour. BORING! Couldn't even get a good breeze in the hot, humid, Louisiana summers unless you were at least going 40!
But we were all safe, and we were all cared for, and we all knew it.
I see a lot of my Papaw in my dad. And in my brother. Not much in myself, but I pray there is still hope for me.
I was so proud when Bro. T. F. Tenney made a donation in memory of my grandfather at Camp Meeting last night. Of all the wonderful people he could have honored, he chose Charlie Perry. Out of respect for Papaw's dedication and service.
If I remember the history correctly, Papaw drove the then-Superintendent of the Louisiana District of the United Pentecostal Church to view the site of what is now the Campgrounds in Tioga. My Papaw and Mamaw spent every single one of their vacations at the Campgrounds. By the time I was not-quite-old-enough to enroll in Youth Camp, my grandparents were regular fixtures, Papaw in his overalls, working on electric poles, Mamaw sitting in the office answering phones. All of us Perry grandkids had "special privileges" at Youth Camps. We just thought we were really something when we could sneak in to the tabernacle to get front-row seats when everyone else waited in line outside in the heat!
Well, we WERE special. We were Perry grandkids! Even before we realized how blessed we were, we could sense it.
We buried my grandfather the day my daughter turned 18 months old. I felt a deep loss over the fact that Angelyn will never know Charlie Perry the way I knew Charlie Perry. But I was wrong. She will know him. Through my memories. Memorabilia. Pictures. Stories.
And through my dad. My other hero, who lives to serve others, and who now putts around on the Ol' Campgrounds, fixing whatever needs to be fixed.
Long Live the Spirit of Charlie Perry, Dedicated Servant.
Coming Soon: "Renaissance Man, Howard Kesler"
a tribute to my other grandfather
my other hero
Taught me to roller skate in his driveway. I must've been 6 or 7. He held my hand and taught me to go slow until I was sure of myself. Caught me when I fell.
Watching him, without even realizing I was watching him, I learned the importance of service. Serve he did. He served by putting around the Campgrounds in his little overalls, fixing whatever needed to be fixed. He served by sitting at the Tape Ministry booth in Bro. T. W. Barnes' church in Minden, Louisiana. He served by helping my dad build a new house. He served by mowing lawns, driving grandchildren around, chaperoning Superintendents, and doing just absolutely whatever needed doing. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I subconsciously choose to idolize him after he passed away and choose to block out the imperfections, but I just don't recall ever hearing him complain.
Except when it came to laziness or waste. As a kid, I remember seeing him go to each of his nine grandchildren, asking which one of them left a half-full can of Coke on the table. When none confessed, he grumbled for a while about the importance of money and the sin of wastefulness (remnants of the Great Depression Era?). In a gentle, caring, grandfatherly sort of way. To this day, I think of him every time I see a half-full can of Coke abandoned.
My Papaw would sit in his rocking chair after a long day of work, waiting for a beebopping little rugrat to scurry by, and he would bribe us with a quarter if we stopped long enough to sit on his lap and gave him a hug. I would give every penny I have ever made if I could go back for another one of those hugs.
I remember fussing because he would let us ride in the back of his truck, but he would never go over 25 miles per hour. BORING! Couldn't even get a good breeze in the hot, humid, Louisiana summers unless you were at least going 40!
But we were all safe, and we were all cared for, and we all knew it.
I see a lot of my Papaw in my dad. And in my brother. Not much in myself, but I pray there is still hope for me.
I was so proud when Bro. T. F. Tenney made a donation in memory of my grandfather at Camp Meeting last night. Of all the wonderful people he could have honored, he chose Charlie Perry. Out of respect for Papaw's dedication and service.
If I remember the history correctly, Papaw drove the then-Superintendent of the Louisiana District of the United Pentecostal Church to view the site of what is now the Campgrounds in Tioga. My Papaw and Mamaw spent every single one of their vacations at the Campgrounds. By the time I was not-quite-old-enough to enroll in Youth Camp, my grandparents were regular fixtures, Papaw in his overalls, working on electric poles, Mamaw sitting in the office answering phones. All of us Perry grandkids had "special privileges" at Youth Camps. We just thought we were really something when we could sneak in to the tabernacle to get front-row seats when everyone else waited in line outside in the heat!
Well, we WERE special. We were Perry grandkids! Even before we realized how blessed we were, we could sense it.
We buried my grandfather the day my daughter turned 18 months old. I felt a deep loss over the fact that Angelyn will never know Charlie Perry the way I knew Charlie Perry. But I was wrong. She will know him. Through my memories. Memorabilia. Pictures. Stories.
And through my dad. My other hero, who lives to serve others, and who now putts around on the Ol' Campgrounds, fixing whatever needs to be fixed.
Long Live the Spirit of Charlie Perry, Dedicated Servant.
Coming Soon: "Renaissance Man, Howard Kesler"
a tribute to my other grandfather
my other hero
When Church and State Come Together
I live in the South. In the heart of the Bible Belt. There are churches on every corner of every town, big, small, medium. Churches in the swamps, churches in people's homes, churches downtown and uptown and everywhere in-between. Baptist, Catholic, Assemblies of God, Pentecostal, Jewish, Mormon, and all others under the sun. And I love it.
This week is the 97th annual United Pentecostal Church Camp Meeting at the "Ol' Campgrounds" in Tioga, Louisiana. I had the privilege of attending last night among more than 7,000 others. Wednesday night is always Family Night, and my family shows up from all over. This year, there were some fantastic Puckett People from Kentucky there.
Also in attendance were Gov. Bobby Jindal, Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne, Secretary of State Tom Schedler, State Attorney General Buddy Caldwell, and numerous Representatives and other elected officials.
Yup, it's election time again, folks. And politicians are to large, Southern church meetings what ants are to Jolly Ranchers.
Usually, during "politickin time" at Camp Meeting, I am preoccupied with looking around to see how many friends and family members from around the state (and the nation, in fact) I can find, making mental notes to go speak to them when the service is over, catch up on things. Not so when Gov. Jindal speaks.
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I heard him at a previous Camp Meeting, and remember that he doesn't give a politician's speech at these sorts of services. The man preaches. And he could hold his own with many charismatic preachers today of all denominations. Amazing gift with words, expressions, the ability to connect with his audience. And a passion for God like I have never seen from a politician before. He is good. Yes, it's election time, and yes, he is in election mode, and yes, he is a politician. But if you hadn't known his name or face last night, you coulda sworn he was a Pentecostal preacher! I kept waiting for someone to start running the aisles and jumping the pews! I'm ashamed of the fact that I actually held back from doing that (was sort of wondering what the Troopers would do, to be honest). And I was a little bit fascinated with the fact that my husband was absolutely glued to Gov. Jindal.
His words were worthy of repeating. Unfortunately, I'm not great at remembering word-for-word, so forgive my paraphrasing, and please forgive if I mix something up. But the gist of his message was that we need to wake up and fall on our faces before God, asking his help for our country. He spoke of a famous man of the past who said that America has the right answers, after we try out everything else. He said that Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all of the alternatives. And he said that now that we've tried everything else, it's time to go back to what we KNOW will work: prayer!
I don't think he and Pastor Anthony Mangun coordinated their sermons, but boy, were they on the same page! Bro. Anthony's sermon was about the three ingredients to a successful family: prayer, fasting, and the Word of God. He said that prayer can change a nation. For Example: Mordecai, Jonah, David, Samuel, and the list goes on and on. I like the illustration of Samuel. Samson was incredibly strong, performed many amazing feats, killed many men, but the Philistines kept coming. It wasn't until the prophet Samuel prayed that the Philistines were no longer able to come against them. Prayer can do things that strength, words, elected officials can't. Bro. Anthony closed out his sermon with a challenge for men and women to get back to what really matters. The "this is a football" Lombardi speech.
Wake up, people, and start praying again!
The one phrase that stuck out for me? We can't yell about there being no prayer in schools when there is no prayer in our churches and our homes.
Wow.
And whoops.
Okay, I'm awake.
This week is the 97th annual United Pentecostal Church Camp Meeting at the "Ol' Campgrounds" in Tioga, Louisiana. I had the privilege of attending last night among more than 7,000 others. Wednesday night is always Family Night, and my family shows up from all over. This year, there were some fantastic Puckett People from Kentucky there.
Also in attendance were Gov. Bobby Jindal, Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne, Secretary of State Tom Schedler, State Attorney General Buddy Caldwell, and numerous Representatives and other elected officials.
Yup, it's election time again, folks. And politicians are to large, Southern church meetings what ants are to Jolly Ranchers.
Usually, during "politickin time" at Camp Meeting, I am preoccupied with looking around to see how many friends and family members from around the state (and the nation, in fact) I can find, making mental notes to go speak to them when the service is over, catch up on things. Not so when Gov. Jindal speaks.
I heard him at a previous Camp Meeting, and remember that he doesn't give a politician's speech at these sorts of services. The man preaches. And he could hold his own with many charismatic preachers today of all denominations. Amazing gift with words, expressions, the ability to connect with his audience. And a passion for God like I have never seen from a politician before. He is good. Yes, it's election time, and yes, he is in election mode, and yes, he is a politician. But if you hadn't known his name or face last night, you coulda sworn he was a Pentecostal preacher! I kept waiting for someone to start running the aisles and jumping the pews! I'm ashamed of the fact that I actually held back from doing that (was sort of wondering what the Troopers would do, to be honest). And I was a little bit fascinated with the fact that my husband was absolutely glued to Gov. Jindal.
His words were worthy of repeating. Unfortunately, I'm not great at remembering word-for-word, so forgive my paraphrasing, and please forgive if I mix something up. But the gist of his message was that we need to wake up and fall on our faces before God, asking his help for our country. He spoke of a famous man of the past who said that America has the right answers, after we try out everything else. He said that Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all of the alternatives. And he said that now that we've tried everything else, it's time to go back to what we KNOW will work: prayer!
I don't think he and Pastor Anthony Mangun coordinated their sermons, but boy, were they on the same page! Bro. Anthony's sermon was about the three ingredients to a successful family: prayer, fasting, and the Word of God. He said that prayer can change a nation. For Example: Mordecai, Jonah, David, Samuel, and the list goes on and on. I like the illustration of Samuel. Samson was incredibly strong, performed many amazing feats, killed many men, but the Philistines kept coming. It wasn't until the prophet Samuel prayed that the Philistines were no longer able to come against them. Prayer can do things that strength, words, elected officials can't. Bro. Anthony closed out his sermon with a challenge for men and women to get back to what really matters. The "this is a football" Lombardi speech.
Wake up, people, and start praying again!
The one phrase that stuck out for me? We can't yell about there being no prayer in schools when there is no prayer in our churches and our homes.
Wow.
And whoops.
Okay, I'm awake.
Blogged Down
I decided to keep my blog light-hearted, simple, not over-preachy, not politicky, and not too-Mommyish. My blog was very boring. A little too forced, not quite real. So, now, I will just be me.
If I offend you, please forgive me. But this is my blog. You can choose not to read it if you wish. Because I'm not writing this for you. These are my thoughts, my prayers, my dreams. I hope that one day, after I am gone, my daughter can read these posts and remember what her mother stood for, and maybe even recognize a little bit of herself in these random, crazy, wishful thoughts.
This is my legacy. Call it my autobiography. I may not have much in the way of possessions, but I do have experiences, knowledge, and hope to pass on to my Angelyn. Along the way, if my words somehow touch someone else, then that is an added bonus.
I appreciate all comments, but please, keep this family-friendly, as little eyes will be watching. A good philosophy for life, actually.
If I offend you, please forgive me. But this is my blog. You can choose not to read it if you wish. Because I'm not writing this for you. These are my thoughts, my prayers, my dreams. I hope that one day, after I am gone, my daughter can read these posts and remember what her mother stood for, and maybe even recognize a little bit of herself in these random, crazy, wishful thoughts.
This is my legacy. Call it my autobiography. I may not have much in the way of possessions, but I do have experiences, knowledge, and hope to pass on to my Angelyn. Along the way, if my words somehow touch someone else, then that is an added bonus.
I appreciate all comments, but please, keep this family-friendly, as little eyes will be watching. A good philosophy for life, actually.
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