Isn't it wonderful that Facebook can restrict an account because it goes against "community standards" without delineating what their community standards are. I shared a post that someone else shared about the doctor who uses hydroxychloroquin to treat CV-19 with great results.
Facebook considers that hate speech. If it was hate speech, then why was the post there in the first place. It should have been removes as mine was. Now I am in Facebook quarantine for 30 days.

What’s Up Doc

Again, it was that dreaded time in my life where I would suffer through vile and fearsome prep for a colonoscopy. Because my gastroenterologist found several polyps on a past scope, I was being scheduled for the penetration every year. The colonoscopy procedure itself isn’t bad. The anesthesiologist will sedate me into a twilight sleep. It is the PREP that is the most torturous part of the deal. I don’t believe water boarding is not much worse than this.

The marathon started on the day preceding the test with only clear liquids all day, then the prep.

There are two types of preps and I’ve had them both. The first option is the Go-Lytely prep. The pharmacy issues a gallon jug with a grainy powder inside. Instructions advise to fill it with water, drink all of it. Bon Appetite. The flavor is strangely reminiscent of very salty lemonade with an extremely weird aftertaste. Instructions tell you how much to drink, when, and what to drink with it. Many people, including me, get nauseated with the bloated feeling before the jug is empty. That may mean that there is debris left behind in the colon. Finding that surprise doesn’t make the gastro doctor very happy, it means extra work for him and the nurses. Or the patient isn’t happy when the test and the prep has to be rescheduled.

The second option for the prep is called SUPREP. The appearance is less daunting. The box contains two innocuous looking 6 bottles and an empty cup. Instructions say to empty one bottle into the cup, add 10 ounces of cool water, then drink it, to be followed by two more of 16 ounce glasses of water. The SUPREP has a salty cough syrup flavor, not one to be savored. The encounter with the bottle starts at eight PM the day before. This encourages one’s bowels to move. I already had diarrhea and no encouragement was needed. I reigned from the throne most of the night. My second encounter with the infamous bottles was at 4 AM, four hours before my test. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.

The doctor found another polyp, so the annual pilgrimage will continue. I will have a reminder of this test for several days. The first poke for the I.V. blew and a hematoma developed. The bruise is quite noticeable. Safe at home for now, butt I’ll be back in a year.

The Stroke of Love

The small clapboard building was the center of the community located near the head of a valley in the backwoods of Tennessee. Families could only reach their homes by foot or riding their mules. Single-file trails were the only passages through the mountains. Running water came from springs or streams. Indoor plumbing was nonexistent.

On Sunday, the clapboard building was a church; on weekdays a schoolhouse. Pews were backless, plank benches. They had no preacher, so elder Haden ministered to folks of the rural community. His messages were always Hell-fire and brimstone. Each sermon spoke of an angry God who wanted to punish sinners, preaching of a harsh and judgmental Father.

In school were eight children in five grades, taught by a single teacher. Layton Chance was an outstanding pupil, reading every book he could lay his hands on. When he’d read every book in the community, he walked nearly six miles to borrow books from a nearby town’s library. His appetite for knowledge earned him a reputation and a scholarship to a Bible college.

After years of sermons on an angry God, Chance discovered the attributes of a loving Father. He learned that God sent his Son, Jesus, to die as ransom for man’s sin debt. Chance graduated, carrying the message of God’s love in his heart.

Back home Chance found that Haden was still preaching sermons about a wrathful God.  Chance attempted to breach the walls of a vengeful God, but Haden fought back.

“If you’re going to try to teach that love foolishness in my church, I will throw you out.” Then he addressed the rest of the congregation, “Listen to him and you can leave the church as well.”

Chance countered, “Brother Haden, 1 John chapter four reads ‘God is love.’ It doesn’t just say God loves, it says God is love. He sent his Son, Jesus to die for our sins. That’s a Father’s love, not someone who hates mankind.”

“Out, out!” Haden screamed. Spittle flew from his lips.

Chance had just turned to leave when Haden collapsed. Chance helped the other men of the church carry Haden home, then stayed by Haden’s side.

The stroke left Elder Haden weak. Chance worked Haden’s farm and his own, often eighteen hours each day. After many weeks with help, Haden was able to walk to church.

As he entered the sanctuary an expectant hush fell over the small congregation. A fly buzzed overhead. Haden shuffled to the pulpit. Pulling himself erect, he said, “God is love.” Turning, he took a seat on the plank bench.

America’s Sins

There was a time in history that America was a God fearing country. The first men and women came to our shores seeking religious freedom; searching for the ability to worship God without interference from a king or government.  The foundation of the Constitution was based on biblical principles that God almighty decreed in His Word. The Constitution of the United States is the document that separates a freedom loving people from people in the rest of the world.

America has been blessed and the face of God has looked favorably on our nation to make it a powerful entity and a haven for the oppressed. God’s allowed our country to intervene when evil men attempted to rule the world. America has given the lives of its men and women to secure liberty for those who were being enslaved.

Year after year, America has turned its back on God and year after year God has been saying, “I love you. Come back to me.” The government has been straying from the principles on which our nation was created. Too many politicians have come to rely on their own strength and wisdom instead of seeking the face of God who is the source of all wisdom and strength.

Morality is on the decline and depravity is on the rise. Government cannot legislate morality. If the heart remains unchanged, laws will do little to restrain evil or to limit its effects.

I believe God has been showing His displeasure by the increase of earthquakes and weather disasters. When mankind is unwilling to recognize the Creator of the Earth and the weather concerns, but gives credit to “Mother Nature” or “Climate Change” it will only increase. When men do not give Him the credit for Creation nor see it as a pronouncement of judgment, God will continue to weigh those people and allow that nation to be brought down in defeat.

History shows that when a country removes God from its daily life, other than to think of Him as a servant; only to be called on when something is needed, that country fails. God will use the same hands that He produced years of blessings to also deliver the wrath of His judgment on the people of that nation.

It is time for Americans to be less proud and more humble. God is the only strength and refuge in times of trouble and fear. He is our buckler and our sword. God can bless America again if only we turn to Him and seek his forgiveness and face.

Woo Hoo Tuesday

Tuesday was a busy, but very enjoyable day. In the morning, I moved to another level on Candy Crush. Later I went to lunch with several senior citizens. Ha, ha, they were fellow high school classmates that try to gather once month for lunch and to talk. The Covid 19 panic put the kibosh on our get togethers for a bit, but we’re back together again. It’s pleasant to reminisce and relax. This gathering is less formal that the class reunions and we’re able to laugh and talk about trivial things. Joking and laughing between bites is the norm. I had a steak sub with fried onions and fries. Our leader, an Annette Funicello look-alike had a massive plate of spaghetti and meat balls. Take home boxes were needed. When I got home, my daughter Anna was there. She’d missed church Sunday morning because of a sinus headache and missed receiving a gift from a friend. She wanted to know what it was. I refused to tell her, so she had to come over and find out what it was.

My daughter often feels warm in church and carries a collapsible fan in her purse. One of her friends saw her waving it and bought a battery operated fan. She gave it to me because Anna was absent and noy knowing was bothering Anna, so she came to my house to find out. She searched my home, but had to wait because the fan was still in my car.

Our annual picnic for the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society was later on Tuesday evening. I decided to take two cheese balls. One I bought which was port wine and cheddar, the other I was made from scratch: cream cheese, horseradish, cheddar shreds, and bacon, but when I went into the kitchen to open the cream cheese, Anna had seen  it on the counter, thought I’d forgot to put it away, and put it in the fridge. I got the cheese mixed using, muscle, a potato masher, and smooshing the ingredients together.

The rain came. It was a real downpour. I was worried about the picnic, but knew that we would be dry inside a finished barn where we usually set up the banquet tables. It’s a beautiful place with the patio area overlooking a small lake that has a pair of beautiful white swans and a couple of cygnets. The hot humid air had cooled with the rain, and it was a wonderful evening.

Scars and Stars

As we age, we look back over our past at our youthful days, to our days of learning, and of listening to instruction what do we remember? Do we remember the painful lessons that we’ve earned or do we remember our accomplishments? The scars of the past for the most part have healed. They are no longer painful, covered with a thick protective layer of skin. Sometimes they itch and we look at them remembering the not-so-intelligent thing we did.

I’m not talking about actual physical scars, although there are those times our stupidity has given us scars from burns, cuts, broken bones, or other physical injuries. The scars I’m talking about are seen by no one else but us. These are emotional scars because of something we’ve done that was embarrassing, illegal, or irresponsible; the things that if we would have a do-over we would make better choices.

Then there are star moments; things that we’ve accomplished and are proud to share. I’ve told other people to keep a journal of their accomplishments, when they’ve done something special or meaningful. Usually I share this tip when I know the person is having a bad day and feeling like tossing in the towel. It could be one of the scar days, self-inflicted or by one caused by someone else. Who caused it, it doesn’t matter but when the day is drawing to a close, I tell them to pull out that scrapbook of better and read a few items. It may just lighten the load.

I know when I write my blog, I often share my star moments. Many of my scars are still not sharable and I have yet to really evaluate them. They are a part of what has made me who I am today, but they are in the past. All are covered in blood. Not my blood, but the blood of someone who died a long time ago. A person who sacrificed Himself to redeem me, to pay the price for sins He didn’t commit and to pay for the sin debt He did not owe. This sin debt was one I was unable to pay myself.

How can I explain that when I see His scars, I only see stars? His blood has covered all my scars, never to be recalled again. Although I still have memories of those sinful scars, Jesus died on the cross of Calvary nearly 2000 years and has removed my sins as far from me as the east is from the west.