3 ...

God's Been Good To Us
Let's Hear It For The Boy
Takin' Care Of Business
A Hard Day's Night
Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy
Researching my options for a slide show song suggestions welcome

No, no silly kids ... I'm not retiring my apron. This year. 

We are discussing our options though.  

Condo? The Farm? Big city? Double-wide? Kenya? 

Motorhome? 3rd Rock From The Sun?

For now we'll take it one day at a time...

Soon enough we'll be cruisin' down the highway.

4 ...

Here's a sampling of what Brown did for us.

5 ...

Life as we know it

Cadence unstoppable

Measuring in days

Life as we know it.

Interpret as retirement and/or republican

Teach us to number our days aright

That we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalms 90:12

6 ...

We interupt this countdown ...

Significance of today's photo

Grover & Thelma

Happy Birthday Mom!

Boy, it was hard to come by a picture of just the two of you! But it doesn't mean we don't cherish a ton of memories. I was blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law, but I think Mark wins the prize. And I'm sure he would agree if he had a blog. Check your e-mail!
So enjoy this day ... the both of you. Celebrate the seasons of your life and get ready cuz we're gearing up for Road Trip '08.

Mom,
I put up some Snow Village pieces yesterday, one of which is called Grandma's Cottage! While I sit here early this morning and reminisce ... all my memories are warm. Maybe it's because I'm borrowing the bathrobe you forgot, or the light from that miniature house reminds me of your constant love and understanding. I wish you a great day, in your little cottage, with your favorite farmer, and no wind. 

I love you.

7 ...

Diggin' around for these old photos

brings to mind a 1000 words ... some of which are:

  8' couch, Atari 7800, Global thinking, 

Dude haircuts, Sleepers ... Should I go on?

(On FB there's a run on 'Grover' has a halloween costume) 

The retirement relevance of today's post:

This UPS man always had time for his kids.

I have done what is mine to do ...  St Francis 

8 ...

Give credit where credit is due.

Ya know the old saying, "We'll always have Paris"

With regards to UPS, I guess you could say, 

We'll always have the paycheck.

Unless, of course, they go under.

We are grateful!

Being rooted and built up in Him, 

strengthened in the faith as you were taught, 

and overflowing with thankfulness. 

Colossians 2:7

9 ...

Have scanner, will post.

For those of you reading from afar and don't know my history ...

On Halloween my UPS guy will retire after 31 faithful years. 

And yes, he'll be dressed as a Fed-Ex driver for the day!

Whatever you do ... do it all for the glory of God.  

I Corinthians 10:13

10 ...

...and nine, eight and seven, 6 & 5 & 4--

The countdown's getting lower every day.
And you can bet I'm gonna post a picture each and every one of the 9 business days left.

So much to write about ... so little time.

Also, ya gotta love havin' the iPhone/Pod/Camera along on a walk.

Back-Up

Disclaimer: I'm posting over on iWeb again. You can read this same post there and hear the song "Little Pilgrim" by Chuck Girard. Click here.

The pop-up window flashes out it’s warning.
It has been fifteen days since you backed up Julee Ann’s MacBook Pro!
The button choices are simple:
Back-up now.
Ask me again later.

The small still voice is not as blatant.
Do you love me?
Julee, do you love me?
Then feed my sheep. Take care of my lambs.

Since I call myself a follower of Christ then I’m one of which he speaks. I need to feed myself on the Word and tend to my spiritual life. Sheep are stupid animals. I’m a sheep. I need to return to the fold.

I’ve been fooling myself. Whenever anyone asks, (and it seems everyone I met this weekend did) What church do you go to? I hem-haw. Usually I tag team Mars Hill in there somewhere, because we do actually go there once in a blue moon. Do you know how often a blue moon occurs? I'll tell you; about once every 2 & 1/2 years.
Then I tell people that press me, “I didn’t really give up on God, just church." More lies.

Saturday night, a few short hours after the conference, I was sitting in my den waiting for the 5:30 Willow Creek Anniversary Celebration to appear live on the big Mac. The sun was setting and my dirty windows did nothing to diffuse the glory and splendor at dusk, that rare warm October day.
My feelings were palpable and I held it together until Chuck Girard broke into “Little Pilgrim"
Here's where you might want to click over to iWeb

Little Pilgrim
walking down the road of life
I find that in your heart
You’re just a lonely one
For you see, upon that very road
My search for good and truth had it’s beginning
You take a little turn to the left
You see what that path has to offer you
Then ya gotta make it back to the main road
Anyhow
Then you have all that time to make up for
And it’s a sad thing to realize you’re all alone
That you’re on your own.
Again
Little Pilgrim
Walking down the road of life
You try to follow others who are just like you
I was looking in that same direction
But all I ever found were others who were searching
Just like me
And we didn’t find the way
Or the answers
To the questions that were buried deep down in our souls
All we found was the way of man had no answers
Anyhow.
Oh don’t you wonder now?
What your trying to prove?
Oh don’t you wonder now?
Where that path has taken you?
I know that deep down in your heart
You are just like me
What you’re seeking?
Is a better way?
And you’re reaching out for temporary resting places
And you’re glad to find
A little peace of mind
Here and there
But it won’t last long
‘Cause you’ll have to move along
Until someday when you’re resting in the arms
Of the only one who can help you.
‘Till you give your heart
and your soul
and your body
and your mind
and your life
To the Lord
It’s a glad thing to realize
That you’re not alone
Anymore
That you’ve found your way
Back Home

Truth is I have settled for the spiritual status quo, and have come to realize there is no such thing.
So my journey takes a turn. Again.
The writer’s conference was going to be a learning curve for me. Learn how to write better.
What God spelled into my hand like Helen Keller (metaphor by Angela Blyker) had nothing and everything to do with becoming a better writer. What I actually carried away from the conferences was this: I’m at the end of my "Julee Ann" rope. “I” is not cutting it for me anymore.
I made the right choices. I raised good kids. I don’t live above my means. I deserve it. I don’t need community, church, or spiritual accountability

Wrong.
He must increase and I must decrease. My writing is a metaphor for my faith (once again, thanks Angela), and honestly they both stink at this point in my life.
There is labor involved, I must keep working at it everyday, every hour. There is no easy way to get published, and there is no easy faith. I should be devouring scripture like a wanna-be author bookmarks and highlights the writer’s market guide.

Click here to read an excerpt from the gospel of John. I simply must reiterate the last verse.

Jesus did many other things as well.
If every one of them were written down,
I suppose that even the whole world
would not have room for the books that would be written.

I have two choices:
Do I want to go back and rekindle my first love?
Or do I want Him to ask me again later, Do you love me?

Breathe

Don't let your eyes get used to darkness

The light is coming soon.

Don't let your heart get used to sadness

Put your hope in what is true

No matter how the wind may blow

It cannot shake the sun

Lay your sorrows on the ground

It's time to come back home.

When the future seems uncertain

Like the coming of a storm

Your loving Father carries his children

When they can't walk anymore.

Words & Musib by JJ & David Heller

So much to tell you about ... but first things first.

Go here and download this album (for free, although you can donate)

JJ Heller

Is it me, or is this not beyond beautiful songwriting and performing?

Happy 16th Birthday to my nephew Austin!

Thanks to cityfarmer's facebook album for 2nd photo. 

Talk to ya later ... hopefully today.

October 8 & 9

Figured out through the comment grapevine that yesterday was Victoria's birthday.
Hope your day was a happy one. Come over anytime.

Happy 26th Anniversary to Ruth & David! Too bad we can't all celebrate at a Chicago baseball stadium. Maybe next year.

Let the Redwing Games begin.

Six Degrees Of Separation

Because we discovered Willow Creek in the theatre and they’re celebrating 33 years as a church I guess we could be considered amongst the originals.

I Thought The Sun Rose In Your Eyes

Ask me on Monday about my journey back to church.

Speaking of Jesus, Christmas, and music …


Almost time to put up the village ... celebrate good times, c'mon.

Storm Cellar

Basement is too nice of a word for the dank room beyond the door with a wooden Z. The room’s cement floor angled ever so slightly and rain seepage always found it’s way to the drain leaving  crooked and wet paths. Giant left over oil drums housed long thick wooden planks, which, we huddled under during the all too often and always violent midwestern tornado season. After years of holding the harvest’s bounty and way before a basement remodel, the room was nothing more than a man-made storm shelter. We couldn’t get down from the upstairs fast enough when our parents gave the call to head to the basement. Not once do I remember Dad squatting with us under the homemade barricade. No, his position was just outside the cellar door watching the sky. It was in this room of nothing in the southwest corner of the farmhouse where we huddled together in our shoes and pajamas. It was there we felt safe.

 
Sometimes the storms aren’t F-5’s or Category 3’s that do the most damage. 

They’re a tremor in the hand, which used to be strong. 

They’re human attempts at unconditional love that rip through the heart leaving little hope in its wake. 

Questions and prayers left unanswered turn into aftershocks. 

Bitterness gone unchecked and dreams never realized find the path of least resistance, but never the drain. 

It's hard to decipher between tears of loneliness, regrets or mistakes. They’re inseparable in their mocking, like the rain pelting at the windows, or is it the wind? 

Unfairness in a world gone mad floods over the soul like a tidal wave, choking out measly efforts to change the world and dash our quest for inner peace and true happiness. 

A stalled heart.

And always, lingering on the reality horizon is the beginning of the end in the unstoppable circle of life.

 
At the edge of despair, I look up and see the Father standing guard, watching the sky.

If peace be in your heart

The wildest of storms is full of solemn beauty

The lightening flash shows but your path of duty

Each living creature tells some new and joyous story

The very trees and stones all catch a ray of glory

If peace be in your heart.

Charles Francis Richardson

Applesauce! The Midwest '08 Tour

Party Line

Sometimes I get glimpses into the world I've created in my head.  

Fridays at Happy Hour.  A couple of Chicago apartments.  3 hours with a friend I haven't seen for 25 years. Sunday afternoons on the porch when all the kids are here. Late nights or early mornings on the farm. And in the 1 & 1/2 hour phone conversation I just had with my nephew. 

I've probably said this before, but I long for a simpler space and place in time. I want to walk down a brick-lined street at dusk just before the gas lamps need to come on, and yet you can see their unnecessary glow.  In this perfect neighborhood of camaraderie, the roast beef aroma lingers as your family waves me in for pie and percolated coffee.  Maybe you live in a brownstone and we chat for a bit while you throw a couple of wet dish towels over your fire escape wash-line.  Like the honeymooners, when Norton comes in without knocking and Alice and Trixie share a telephone that they lower and raise via the kitchen window.  

I continue down the tree-lined street always to the same destination; a mom & pop owned coffee shop where the neon sign flashes, Open and everybody knows my name.  We sit outside for three seasons and then every paned window gets decorated in fake snow until it's rubbed off or replaced by red hearts.

Internet cafe's have not been invented in this world of which I envy.  People talk and you can see their eyebrows lower or their eyes twinkle. They shake hands and hug when you walk in.

We all stay awhile and share life stories, opinions, and they tell me straight up when they disagree with me or if I have spinach in my teeth.  We discuss politics, sports, theology, the hereafter and whether we think it will rain next week.  We mention how blessed we are and speak about brave actors, soldiers and missionaries who walk their talk.  We ask questions about each other's family and how God has shown Himself since we last saw each other.  You can sense if my heart is hurting and take no notice of the outward appearance.   You say "When do your parents head south?" And I say "How's your mama and them?" because your fathers have passed on. Then we solve global crisis and claim it's a wonderful world. After all.

We entertain ourselves with each other. Did you hear about the  new grandbaby or the wreck out on 65 where everybody walked away? The TV gets only three channels and at midnight goes straight to rainbow screen after the National Anthem.

 

In my idyllic world I attend church  just beyond city hall and the theatre marquee. Church is just church, nothing special 'bout it but the Gospel.  The steeple and cross, it's beam to warn and warm.  If we haven't connected yet during the week, I'll likely meet up with you in the vestibule. The Church which welcomes all and never waivers from the truth.  The church which preaches repent and treat others the way you want to be treated, like a giant moral compass, held up for all the villagers to see.

There's the library on the corner and a 5 & 10¢ store with a soda fountain counter ... 

I guess it's kinda like that here on the blog, without the voice inflection. And the human connection.