Safety Bubble?

It's really easy to sit in our bubble of safety. These past few weeks, I've been reminded that sometimes the bubble pops. When it pops what are you gonna do? Who are you gonna praise?

The last week or so we have seen in the news the beheading of Christian men. They knew that "All that live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." 2 Timothy 3:12. These men and their families knew what that could mean. That one day that verse could be put in action. Here in a America, we are blessed way beyond measure. We have no "real" persecution. Yeah, we may have problems at work or at home. Those shouldn't be taken lightly either. My point is are we worried someone will kill us? Or our families? No. I know my little problems don't compare. I do know, I take so much for granted..everything even God.
As Christians, we are not promised a good and safe life. We all like to skim over 2 Timothy 3:12. (Ok, I don't know about you all but I do.) When we look at the definition the word shall, according to the dictionary. "It means future tense." In other words it's inevitable it will.

What makes us so special in America that we think we will never suffer persecution? Is it because we're from America, that we think it gives a get out of jail card type of deal? We have fallen into this trap (even as Christians) that we can do whatever we want and there'll be no consquences. We all want to live in the moment. Forget about tomorrow. The problem is tomorrow comes. I'm not saying that God is sitting in heaven, pointing and shaking his finger at us. In fact psalm 116:5 says, "The Lord is merciful and righteous, and our God is full of compassion." He isn't some tyrant waiting for us to fall and letting all "the bad" things happen. He is full of comapassion. Isn't that a lovely thought? That He is sympathetic to us?

If your a Christian and reading this blog, I just a want you to think of our brothers in Christ. Think of how they felt. Being scared but being full of joy because Christ was there. Romans 8:38-39. They were praying (more than likely) praying for the men who stood above them ready to kill them. Already had forgiven those men. I know I have a hard time forgiving for the most stupid things. I can be determined, OK well stubborn. Then to imagine how the men who murdered the Christians, could be so full of hate and anger. It makes me so sad for them. That they know no other way. Maybe it's my motherly instincts but I just want to love those men. Show them another way. Am I the only one?

So my question from this blogpost is when the bubble pops who or what are you gonna serve?

Christmas in February?

Our weather in North Carolina can be down right bio-poplar. Changing from one season to next the following day. So this past week we have had one cold a bad I mean one of the coldest winter's in North Carolina. For me it's felt like the coldest. Last winter we had snow. Which is fun fun because we don't get it every year. Plus who doesnt love snowcream? Maybe Christmas should happen in February. Just a thought. This winter on the other hand we have had ice. The kind from the puddles in your yard have frozen over and your nine year old brother says, "Look at me I'm skating!" Then you wish at that moment you didn't live on such a busy highway. So that you could join him. Then maybe again it isn't such a good idea to be doing that. Then you now know that strike of fear your parents must have had when you did the same thing. Though the ice can be fun to pretend your an ice-skater or in your little brothers case, survivor man. It did leave people without any electricity. We were very fortunate to not have lost ours. It was very pretty to look at. The trees from a distance looked just like snow had fallen on them. Looking at the beauty does make you stop and look at the wonder of it all. As much as I love the winter (yes, even the cold days.) I'll be happy when spring shows herself. So in till Then (or the next blog-post) this bookworm is going to wrap up in a blanket and read another chapter. 

Healthy Comfort

  When I was younger my mom decided that the family needed to try the "What Would Jesus Eat" diet plan. (My parents were still married at that time.) I remember there being lots of eggplant and zucchini in the house. Then this yucky weird bread popped up called, wheat bread. Now up to that point we ate what southern people ate, white bread. We grew to love wheat bread, though. To this day I'll take wheat over white bread. Mom  wasn't having this cooking - something - different for everyone kinda of thing anymore. She even found this "healthy" gross whole wheat peanut butter cookie recipe. They were such nasty tasting things! Along with this the staple to any southern home our sweet tea wasgone. Nope no more of that either. We were all gonna be healthy no matter what! It's funny now because I'm the one who is let's try this healthy cheesecake made out of cashews and she's the one saying how nasty that is.
    It's hard to be healthy in a world that every or just about every commercial is burgers, pizza, fries (OK I looovee french fries) and ice cream is what we see. Then we have people like the First Lady and celebrities telling us to eat healthier and to move more. Why? When we have been taught that everything is entitled us. So if we want to the lose the weight go have the surgery. We are also being taught the easy way out is the best way. It's hard to lose the weight, believe me I know. It's even harder when you lost a significant amount of weight and gained it back then try to lose it all over...again. I know it is tough. It's way easier to put it on. But no pain no gain, right? Or is that saying becoming a myth? Our great-grandparents use to work from sun up to sun down. They ate biscuits and most everything fried and lived to be in there ninetys. What changed? Are we to concerned with weight and our keeping up with what everyone thinks is the perfect size? That we have neglected being healthy and happy? Or are we to busy equating food with health instead of love?

writing doodles

From the time I can remember I held a pen or a pencil in my hand along with a notebook in the other. I was the weird nerdy kid that when my parents asked at Christmas time what I wanted from old Saint Nick, I would reply with "pen and paper,please." I wanted to write. (Well I'm not that great drawing.) I remember the first story I ever wrote. It was based off my great-grandmother. She had 10 siblings and the stories she told always held me captive. All my grandmother's childhood stories did and still do. Some days I'm itching to write all theses stories and even thoughts that float around on head. So I thought I would practice up here with blogging and all. My random musings.