Ba’al Breaker -- July 16, 2011

This sermon was done the day before my 60th birthday party, with all three of my sisters present. I was rather fearful...

Call to worship

1 Kings 18: 20, 21

20 So Ahab sent unto all the children of Israel, and gathered the prophets (of Ba’al) together unto mount Carmel. 21 And Elijah came unto all t

he people, and said; “How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered him not a word.

We've taken over putting the messages on the church marquee. It has become our little mission, taking pride in choosing the message, carefully getting the letters out of their bins to form the words. Sometimes, in attempt to speed the process, we leave letters, or even whole words there that we’ll need for the new message.

In our most recent experience, having left two “SS” from the word Moses, it was quite a quick realization that one must be careful just which vowel is left on the line ahead of those SS or passers-by’s horns begin to honk.

While researching for the next message, I fell upon one that struck me. It struck me that it must be similar to those times when we just let the Bible flip open to a page and read the first text as an inspiration, or for solace. Today, I will try to take heed of its advice.

"Biscuits and sermons are both improved by shortening"

Dearest Jesus,

Please give me the strength to deliver your message for I know that what I preach is not from myself, but by your grace, and that I am just your lowly messenger. God said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” so let his light shine through me this morning.

Amen

Ba’al Breaker

In 1^st Kings 16 a story begins about a king of Israel thatwent astray. Ahab wasn’t the first king of Israel who went astray, nor was he the first king of Israel who went astray following a woman.

But 1^st Kings 16 is one of those chapters somewhat

like the “begats” where unless you are trying to figure out a timeline, you pretty much skip over the someone “reineth for this many years” stuff. But it is also a time where this or that evil king besieged this or that Philistine encampment.

When I was young, whether I understood which king was which, I knew what “besieged” meant and my imagination conjured up all kinds of battles with swords and spears and a few catapults.

When I spoke a few months ago about Jonah, the King of Israel was Jeroboam the 2nd. His son, Nadab occupied the throne of Israel for only a few months when his general decided to slay him and take over.

The idolatrous worship introduced by Jeroboam had brought upon the guilty offenders the retributive judgments of Heaven; and yet the rulers who followed – Baasha, Elah, Zimri, and Omri – during a period of about forty years, followed the same fatal course of evil-doing.

It continued to be pretty exciting, way better than most Hollywood epics. One King whipped another in a battle, only to have one of his trusted captains kill him. Then that guy got drunk and someone else snuck in with a dagger and set himself up as a ruler. One of these guys ruled for only seven days before he was off’d. It was a mess. Omri is said to have made Jeroboam look downright saintly.

King Ahab was the son of Omri.

By the way, Israel was split at this time, and over Judah was a God-fearing man named Asa – all of the texts in the books of 1^st and 2^nd Kings use the years of his rule as reference points.

Ahab took as a wife the daughter of the king of the Zidonians, a rather persuasive young woman by the name of Jezebel.

Zidon was on the Mediterranean coast, about 25 miles north of Tyre, 20 miles west of the Sea of Galilee, named for Noah’s grandson, Sidon, the first born after the flood. This was the land of the Phoenicians and Philistines, necessary to the area not only for fish but for corn and grain. King Hiram is referred to several times in the Bible, mostly in helping set up trade.

Historically, Phoenicia is known for a number of major inventions, developing methods for sailing vast distances and for the color purple. Important why? Because all of royalty needed their dyes to get their clothing just the right color. That highly sought dye actually comes from the mucus of the murex snail prevalent in the Mediterranean.

Both David and Solomon had made treaties with the area, more than likely looking for that very color dye that God called for in the temple drapes.

But back to our friend Ahab. To stay in Jezebel’s good graces, Ahab joined her church. He want so far as to build many altars and temples to Ba’al, and in a grove on the side of nearby Mount Carmel, he built a series of altars to Ba’al, where a long forgotten altar to God already existed. Mt. Carmel literally translated is “God’s vineyard.”

Throughout the Bible, the term Ba’al (pronounced bääl, bäl, bal) is used to indicate any number of false gods by the Hebrews. For our story, let me assure you that Ba’al is the storm and nature god of all Canaan, considered the “ruler of the universe.” Ba’al was the source of life and fertility, the mightiest, and the lord of war.

Comunities had his name as a prefix – Baal-peor, Baal-hazor, Baal-hermon, and powerful folk, had his name as a suffix – Hasdru-bal, Hanni-bal, and in the feminine, Jeze-bel. It was I suppose an automatic “in” with their god.

The same neology is pretty evident in the name Ba’al-zebub…

Now where have we heard that one before?

1 Kings 16:33 “…and Ahab did more to provoke the LORD God of Israel to anger than all the kings of Israel that were before him.”

The next thing we read is that Elijah the Tishbite from Gilead is standing in front of Ahab.

According to the Books of Kings, Elijah lived in the 9th century BC during the reign of Ahab, his name means “Yahweh is my God,” and he was a prophet in Samaria. According to Wikipedia, “Elijah defended the worship of Yahweh over that of the more popular Ba’al.”

How Elijah walked into the palace so easily is beyond me, but there he was, suggesting that it was just about to get very dry in Israel. It was a bold move, but he did it, saying to Ahab, “As the LORD God of Israel liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word.” 1 Kings 17:1

No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth, God whispered in his ear to get out of there, to go east, and it wasn’t long before Elijah had his sleeping bag rolled out beside a small stream that eventually flowed into the Jordan River. Ravens brought him bread and meat morning and night.

The drought that he had proclaimed eventually caught up to Elijah, and his own source of water dried. So God told him to head for Zarephath and there he asked a widow for some water. As she was getting it he called out and asked for a morsel of food as well.

I can see this poor woman pretty clearly. She didn’t know it, but here in front of her was the man that her entire country was blaming for the miserable famine. Ahab had sent spies and detectives everywhere in search of Elijah. She had the very man that topped the most wanted list. Had she known, she might have turned him in for the reward money. Yes, I can see her, hand on her hip, and with a full attitude, and deservedly so.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” she said to the road-weary traveler. “I have no bread. In fact, I’m out here gathering sticks to build one last fire. My young son and I have only a little flour and a little oil. I’m going to make a small loaf, we’re going to eat it and with nothing left, we will just wither up and die. And you are asking to take away even that!”

But Elijah coaxed her into making the bread for him anyway. His assurances were completed with: 1 Kings 17:14 “For thus saith the LORD God of Israel, The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the LORD sends rain upon the earth.”

And that’s just what happened. Every day, every meal, the minimal ingredients never ran out, and though the menu was meager, God never allowed them to go hungry.

Then the widow’s sickly son died. Of course, she cried out and threw Elijah directly under the bullock cart. He passed on her sorrow to God who saw fit to bring the boy back to life.

Even considering the months of bottomless oil and flour, when she saw what Elijah had done, the widow proclaimed, “Now by this I know that thou art a man of God, and that the word of the LORD in thy mouth is truth.”

Some time in the third year of the drought, God told Elijah to give Ahab the word that he would send rain. We live in an arid region ourselves, where water is not in huge supply. We have to conserve somewhat, with rationing on watering our most common factor. But consider three years without rain, or snow, or dew on the leaves. The small rivers and streams would be gone, and Washoe Lake would be but a memory.

There were still followers of God in Canaan, and Elijah ran into one. It was Obadiah who managed Ahab’s entire castle. He had saved over 100 of God’s prophets when this dry spell started, hiding them in caves from Jezebel’s pals.

Elijah told Obadiah to tell his master that he was ready for a sit-down meeting. Obadiah was skeptical. After all, King Ahab had sent word to every surrounding country to Get Elijah at all Costs. He’d heard stories of similar set-ups where Elijah failed to show up and the messengers had been killed. But Elijah gave his promise, and God’s word, that the time had come.

The promise was upheld and with cross-armed piety, Ahab said to Elijah, “Art thou he that troubleth Israel?” 1 Kings 18:17

I have this scene etched into my brain. Ahab rode up with a few hundred of his closest friends, all in full battle garb, pretty much ready to make Elijah a grease spot in the desert. Meeting this war party was a hairy little old man, in a tattered robe, leaning on his walking stick. One man against so many.

Elijah stood his ground in front of this great entourage and answered, simply, “I have not troubled Israel; but you, and your father's house, you have forsaken the commandments of the LORD, and have followed Ba’al.” 1 Kings 18:18

Following that proclamation, which had to rock Ahab back on his heels and cause gasps from all of Ahab’s company, Elijah laid down a little challenge. Ahab nodded in agreement, and withdrew to put the plan into place.

The headlines in the newspapers were huge. “Broken Down Old Man Challenges Prophets of Ba’al!”

The newscasters interrupted “Good Morning Samaria”, “All My Deities” and the Grecian Game channel with special bulletins.

Ahab held press conferences.

The big showdown was to happen on Mt. Carmel.

When the big day arrived, thousands had made the trek to Carmel, with folding chairs, picnic lunches and their favorite beverages. Many purchased those horn noisemakers and T-shirts that already proclaimed Ba’al victorious.

Odds-makers felt it was pretty lopsided – one old geezer against 850 of Jezebel’s best. There were 450 prophets of Ba’al, ready to get under way, and another 400 prophets of the groves and altars to Ba’al. Unlike Elijah, they were well fed, well dressed, and well equipped. Of course, none had been able to bring rain over the past three years, even though countless offerings had been made to Ba’al.

But Elijah had an ace up his sleeve, an unseen ally that made him rather confident.

After the impressive marches and the playing of the national anthem, Elijah stood and reminded everyone of the rules, then said so the multitudes could hear, “If the LORD be God, follow him. But if Baal, then follow him.” 1 Kings 18:21

Then he sat down.

Elijah watched in bemused respect the ceremonial antics the many prophets of Ba’al performed. They chose a bullock, cut it into pieces, lay it on the wood on their altar but did not light it. They called on Ba’al, and any other gods that came to mind, but nothing happened. They danced, chanted, yelled and danced some more. They cried out, “Oh great Ba’al, source of all life, bring down fire and prove you are our mightiest hero!” Their gyrations became more and more passionate and outrageous. They leaped up on the altar. I have to believe several tried to throw lit matches into the kindling.

By noon, even dancing in shifts, the prophets of Ba’al began to tire. Elijah finally spoke up. His sarcasm is quite apparent even after 3000 years.

“Maybe you guys should shout louder? Perhaps your god is on vacation – a far-off journey and he just can’t hear you? Maybe he’s in the outhouse? Oh I know, he’s asleep – yell really loud so that he can hear you.”

It says in Patriarchs & Prophets page 109: “From the time of Jeroboam's death to Elijah's appearance before Ahab the people of Israel suffered a steady spiritual decline. Ruled by men who did not fear Jehovah and who encouraged strange forms of worship, the larger number of the people rapidly lost sight of their duty to serve the living God and adopted many of the practices of idolatry.”

Over and over, the Bible proclaims that there is one true God. Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, the life". John 14:6

That day, the assembly was witnessing a "my God is bigger than your god" showdown. They were seeing the manifestations of their incorrect choices.

Elijah sat back down and was amazed at the actions of prophets of Ba’al. They went at it for another six hours, and when Ba’al remained silent, they began to cut themselves with lances and knives as was the custom in their worship. Their frenzied behavior must have been a sight to see, a show worthy of “World’s Stupidest Human Tricks” or some such.

When the time came for the evening sacrifice came, Elijah silently stood, and quietly said, “my turn.”

He called out for everyone to come close. With help from believers, Elijah chose twelve stones, to commemorate the tribes of Israel and he repaired the altar of the Lord that had been unused and broken down for so many years. He asked for a deep trench to be dug all around the altar. He stacked wood on the rebuilt altar, then placed the bullock on top.

While he worked, there was certainly a lot of mocking from all of those Ba’al prophets. “C’mon old man, show us what ya got! Your God ain’t nothin’! We’ve been doing fine without him.”

When the preparations were complete, Elijah uttered the strangest of requests. He wanted many barrels of seawater brought up on the mountain and poured on the altar. They did it three times so that everything was well soaked, and the trenches were overflowing.

The crowd murmured. The prophets scoffed. But when Elijah reverently approached the altar, everyone hushed.

There was no whirling, flailing or screaming. He turned his face skyward, raised his arms and in a loud voice, he began. 36 “Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy word. 37 Hear me, O Lord, hear me, that this people may know that thou art the Lord God, and that thou hast turned their hearts back again.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light so intense that it terrified all but one man. The lightning strike, or whatever God sent that day, started a blaze that burned the wood, the bullock, the rocks of the altar, the sand and for dessert, licked up all the water in those trenches.

It only took an instant, and thousands were awestruck at the sight of the few wisps of smoke rising from the little bit of nothing that remained. They fell on their faces in worship and began to chant, “The Lord, He is God, the Lord, He is God.”

And yes, it rained that night, but that is another story.

God wants us to know that He alone is God. The Scriptures are full of examples that culminate in God's ultimate sacrifice through Jesus Christ. Unfortunately, there is another who desires to keep us following false gods, whether Ba’al or dragracing or television or the pursuit of anything that we place higher than our relationship with him.

2 Corinthians 4:4 The gods of this age have blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

Christ’s Object Lessons Page 56 The Spirit of God is ever seeking to break the spell of infatuation that holds men absorbed in worldly things, and to awaken a desire for the imperishable treasure.

Our closing hymn was Showers of Blessing

Heavenly Father, who has given us everything, create in us new and clean hearts, turn us away from our false and worthless gods, and let your light shine through us as we go from this place. We ask to be beacons of your love as we walk through this world of darkness. Let us in some small way share your glory that was so well portrayed on the face of your son, and my savoir, Jesus Christ.

Amen

Phil’s Testimony

Earlier this spring, Donna and I gave our testimonies and were rebaptised into the Carson City Seventh Day Adventist church. The following is the script from that testimony:

Phil’s Testimony

I opened with Mark 13:11 “…do not be anxious beforehand what you are to say; but say whatever is given you in that hour, for it is not you who speak but the Holy Spirit.”

Then I jokingly said that Pastor Torkelson had given me a parameter: “Testimonies should be no longer than 45 minutes,” but that Donna had told me that he had really said, "four to five minutes…" That received a laugh and gave the audience a bit of ease.

I was born into the Seventh-day Adventist church. My great-grandfather, grandfather and two uncles were all Seventh-day Adventist ministers, half of those missionaries to far off lands. So it was no surprise when at six or seven my aspirations included being a “missionary doctor with my own plane to fly to all the villages.” I was the fourth child, behind three sisters.

Presents for my sixth birthday included a poem from my very artistic grandfather, from whom I’m certain I inherited a certain degree of talent. It closed, “Jesus knelt as a boy to pray, At the dawn and the close of day, He was obedient kind and good, And always did just what he should, And so we pray, will Philip be, Just as good and kind as He.”

It was my grandpa Frank Wyman who baptized me. I was nine. During an evangelistic series by Stanley Harris in Seattle, I was very moved to give my heart to Jesus. But I wanted my grandpa to do the honors. I remember how upset my father was when mom called long distance to ask grandpa if he was able to drive the nearly one hundred miles each way to baptize his grandson. He asked me some questions about my beliefs and my faith, and said he would be there that night. So it was that on November 28, 1960, a young boy stood proudly – holding a new Bible -- among a group of much older people who had also been baptized in a small, galvanized tank in the front of the Moore Theater.

It wasn’t too many years later that I saw Joe Walsh and the James Gang, the loudest rock-n-roll band I ever heard, in that very same theater. I had chosen a somewhat different path than the one my grandfather would have wanted.

I mentioned my father’s anger because that was his typical stance on almost everything. He had a very bad childhood, with parents full of hate, and he passed that hate on to all of us. Possibly, because I was a boy, I received more than did my sisters. As I became a teen and developed my own opinions and attitudes, our relationship became acidic.

Today, those beatings might be considered abusive. Back then, it was a matter of sparing the rod and spoiling the child. But it wasn’t the physical abuse that affected me most; rather it was the mental abuse. I could do no right. No matter how hard I tried. And, following the verbal chastisement, there were the swinging fists, or the connecting with my body by whatever he might have had IN his angrily clenched fists.

But there were other things about my father and his mistreatment of my mother, while gaining favor with other women and much worse, which negatively impressed me. I observed behaviors that a son should never see. I knew things for which church elders and pastors anointed and prayed with my father, for which he cried and begged forgiveness, but committed again and again.

It was easy to see why I wanted little to do with the church.

Groucho Marx said many times that he would never belong to a club that would have him for a member.

I did not want to belong to a church that would have my father as a member.

While my father was abusing, my mother was compensating with love. But that was difficult for her too. They fought over his neglect and cruelty as well as her attention and affection. I had to find something else.

I discovered racing, and became infatuated with the sounds, the smells and the awesome power. I made acquaintances there and quickly discovered that I could write a story and point a camera in the right direction. An avocation was born which eventually turned into a vocation.

I had also discovered science and was enthralled with worldly explanations of evolution. Since I read everything I could get my hands on, it was easy to absorb other theories and be sidetracked from what I’d been taught all my life.

During my final year at Auburn Academy I met a young lady who changed my life, but due to circumstances and our youth, lost contact. I headed for many poor decisions and failures, a couple botched attempts at college, divorce, meaningless dead-end jobs.

I was fulfilling my father’s prophecy that I’d never amount to anything. It was a life filled with the experience of hard knocks.

Still, I pursued writing and photography in motorsports, and began to make a name for myself. I produced my own dragracing magazine for four years in the early ‘80s, and though highly acclaimed by its readers, was never a financial success. After it folded, I was sought by others who needed my abilities, bouncing me to virtually every corner and fold of the United States. I often wondered, as I stood on various racetracks on Saturdays, if I shouldn’t be somewhere else.

Once in awhile, when mom would visit me or I would visit her, I’d attend church. And when I lived close enough to Seattle, I attended the Green Lake SDA church every week, and sang in the choir. But my participation was more social than spiritual. However, there was always that strange something that drew me. Several of my choir friends walked after church, often around the lake, and we talked about a lot of things. Often, I shared my cynicism about the flood, creation or something else. One day, a lady named Jane had had about enough and asked me, “What if you’re wrong?” I looked at her for a minute, then she said, “If I’m wrong, so what, I’ve still lived a good life. But if you’re wrong, you’ve got a LOT to lose.”

According to a well-circulated quote, “Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.” I experienced that feeling, and like King Agrippa said to Paul, I was “…almost persuaded” (Acts 26:28) several times.

A few weeks ago, a man at work told me that in a few days, he was to visit his mother in Mexico City. He told me that he was so excited because it had been over twenty years. I asked him why it had taken him so long. He first looked at his shoes, than he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said simply, “I got lost.”

Dear friends, I too got lost. I have been lost for a very long time. No, I was never an axe murderer or a drug addict. But I certainly broke the commandments, and spent way too much of my time watching questionable TV and movies. I teetered on the brink of oblivion for a very long time. My far off jobs and my work habits kept me lonely, depressed and full of anxiety. My doctors searched for answers, and sent me to therapists who fed me heavy doses of anti-depressants and listened to my sorrow. I often considered that the world would be far better off without me and contemplated just how I could leave. But I knew my suicide would hurt my beloved mother so much I could not bring myself to follow through with it.

Instead of “looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith,” the way I had been taught, why had I chosen to look away from Jesus, and his earthly examples such as my mother, my grandpa, my uncles?

One day, after literally a dozen jobs and moves, I walked into a man about whom I’d written stories decades before. He told me that his company had moved to Carson City, and he could use someone like me. I’d always liked him, so over the next few months, we spoke about how I might fulfill his needs. Little did he know just how in need I was at that moment.

My mother had taken a downward turn in health and I had been staying with a sister in Southern California, trying to help out in every way I could. I was also working part time, writing press releases about racecar parts. Eventually, I drove north to see what the job in Carson City might entail. My directions had me on 395 north through town and turning right on College Avenue. I had not been in Carson City ten minutes when I said to myself, “Well, there’s the Seventh Day Adventist church.”

I took the job, moved into a rather derelict extended stay motel and looked around. After I found more suitable housing, mom came to visit and we attended this church twice. We both found it cold and uninviting. Soon after, mom went downhill. For nearly a year, I drove the 450 miles each way every weekend to see my mother. Just two months shy of her 92^nd birthday, she went to be with Jesus. My sisters and I all spoke at her memorial, and when I stood at the pulpit of the Seventh-day Adventist church in Santa Monica, I had an epiphany. Instead of what I’d originally written for a close, I said, “If there is a God and a heaven, and I am a skeptic, I’d like to be there because I want to see my mother again.”

I went through grief and depression at losing not only my mother but my best friend. I sought grievance counseling. Life was very difficult. I wasn’t sure that anything was worth living for. But I thrust myself into work and projects around the house I’d been able to purchase.

My niece Stacey introduced me to Facebook, just so that I could look at pictures of her three daughters. I joined the phenom under protest. Within a week or so, I found old friends from Auburn Academy and was actually shocked to realize it was just a month before my 40^th reunion. I’d never been to one before, and I was pretty stubborn inside about not going. After all, nobody from my class had tried to reach me in forty years, and they probably didn’t care. But I went, and I got plenty of tugs on my heart. When the all-too-short time together ended, the president of our class handed me a copy of “Steps to Christ,” a forecast of just what was already churning inside me.

Through Facebook, I rediscovered my long lost love, we shared our life stories and our love was almost immediately rekindled. Though her life was fraught with tumultuous times, she had never lost her faith and it was quickly apparent that we were on a very happy collision course.

One Sabbath morning, I said to myself, “I want to sit with Donna in church today…” and even though she was hundreds of miles away in Oregon, I found myself walking the few blocks to this barn-shaped building and reading the inspirational words on the marquee.

At the door, Art Wilson grabbed my hand. Inside, smiling faces greeted and welcomed me. It wasn’t the cold place I’d been to the few years before. I sang the songs and listened to the sermon, and returned the following week. My first words to Ron Torkelsen were after that second sermon, and they went something like this: “Your End of Days Revelation Series is a little tough on someone struggling to return…” A week later, I had a long talk about our lives with Jeff Matheson and attended the fellowship luncheon. I’m afraid to say that I was hooked. I worked with Margie and Reuben on a yard sale, and probably bored everyone with constant tales about a wonderful woman that was coming soon.

After that, it just became normalcy. I looked forward to attending church and seeing all the people every week. I learned names and made friends. Donna came and everyone saw that my tales were not those of the fairy variety. It wasn’t long before she was here for good and we were both welcomed with open arms into this warm and wonderful church family.

A few months later, we stood on this very spot and were married after a forty-year interruption. Donna and I have shared children’s stories, I have preached sermons, we have had Bible studies and now we are being re-baptized. Praise the Lord.

I know that my mother never gave up on me, and whether I had forgotten God or not, he certainly hadn’t forgotten me.

I can't believe it's June!

The only thing that is really interesting is that everything that I mentioned in the last installment has come to pass, and then some.

Our together time grows more enthralling and comforting, rolled into one.

Last Sunday, we completed our garden planting plus we added a major quail deterrent -- plastic netting. I had to build a simple structure for that, and it may become a PITA as we try to weed and thin. It will come off just as soon as the little seedlings have grown into something more mature. The netting allows for sunlight, oxygen and water but not for winged beasts.

Actually, "beast" is not really an appropriate description of quail because they are so ridiculously cute. BUT, they do monstrous damage to any and all green leafy things that sprout from the ground, be they flora, fauna or fennel. I'm certain their beedy little eyes see a fresh "salad bar" from great heights.

But they are not getting my beet greens and leaf lettuce THIS year.

We also planted potatoes, radishes, yellow wax and green beans, Romaine and cucumbers. Locals tell us never to plant before Memorial Day, and we have experienced two major snows since our initial planting so we'll have to wait and see.

Most of our annuals and perennials are showing wake-up sins as well, making our yard a festive place once again. And Donna is planning a back-yard party in mid-July, so hopefully, all will be mutually beneficial -- that is the flowers and the people.

Of course, "party" means clean-up my crap piles ASAP, of which there are several. Actually, that is underway already, things I should have taken care of months (years?) ago; non-worthwhile projects and nonessential wood piles among them. No matter the reasons, these clean-ups are good for the property and I receive really beaming smiles from Donna besides.

I'm trying to sell a few things, both large and small, too. We don't need this much stuff anyway. It'll be good to rid ourselves of so much extra clutter, and be able to turn around in and outside of our little home.

Enough drivel for this time.

March, what will you bring us?

I spoke too soon about February... whew!

We had three major snow storms in less than ten days and the white stuff is just barely melting now. Actually, we barely missed another layer of white last night -- it left about a foot at Lake Tahoe, but rained here. That has just added to the drippiness.

The never-know weather department says we'll have 60 degrees within a couple days, and tho' Donna already has a plant-me-now gaze in her beautiful eyes, my skepticism suggests that winter hasn't finished up with us yet.

Planting is not at the very top of my honey-do list at this time. In fact, the project pile is overwhelming me and I'm not really sure just when that will clear itself. Once, it was just the stuff that I wanted to get done. Now, Donna has her priorities as well. Then there is church, where things continue to be asked of us. We are working up a comical musical number for the talent show in one week, which I will emcee (that is a lot of prep work too). Then I have another sermon to write/prepare/deliver in a month. There is Donna's 40th reunion from AA to attend, and her niece's wedding. We "want" to make another trip or two as well. Then there are all the around home projects, mostly improving things (we hope), from painting to construction to organizing. It never seems to end! Oh, there are taxes to do too.

I guess I have joined the masses now, for this is all considered "fairly normal," a term with which I'm not really familiar. Sigh.

Weather Pattern

This winter here in Carson City has been somewhat weird, especially when comparing it to the winter being experiences elsewhere. While the midwest, east and even the southeast have been hammered by extreme snowfall, our world has been mildly cold and mostly filled with sunshine. Oh sure, there have been snowfalls, some wind and bitterly cold moments, but certainly those in the hard-hit eastern portions would gladly trade us.

It has been so nice that never (rarely) have Donna and I even had to second guess a plan for an outdoor venture.

It makes me wonder if Spring and Summer have craziness planned.

Almost ten...

Just one-day shy of our 10 month-iversary, Donna and I can finally say that we went on our honeymoon! It was shorter than we'd wished, and I had just caught a cold before we left, but we saw and shared some of the most breathtaking scenery and had beautiful weather to boot!

We chose Carmel-Monterey area, ate in some sweet little restaurants, saw monarch butterflies in Pacific Grove, lots of sea lions, some gorgeous sunsets and thousands of waves. What a perfect setting!

On the way home, we dog-legged through San Francisco, saw more sights (quickly) and late-lunched with my nephew Reed, the young Dr. Harvey. BTW, the hills in SF were/are a stick-shift challenge, but that would be common sense, right?

All this in 3-1/2 days and 809 miles roundtrip. The feeling of tired not helped at all by the cold.

Recently, Donna and I took in the movie, "King's Speech." We would both recommend it highly.