Love, Baby, Family

About twenty people attended Baby's early birthday party in the Bastrop area yesterday, mostly relatives on Son's wife's side, with Fiorella, Husband, Daughter, Fio's brother and his wife also in attendance. The barbecue was delicious and the company congenial. Never in the annals of birthday parties has a child ever received so much attention and well-wishing--or so many thoughtful gifts. Never has a house rung with so much laughter and goodwill.

Husband and Fio don't have many relatives in central Texas, but no matter what happens, Baby will never be alone because, thanks to the good God, her son married into such a large, loving, caring family.

Miscarriage

The heroine of Fiorella's telenovela had a miscarriage, which opened wide the memory gates that time had built around Fio's own miscarriage.

She remembers how, with her dripping blood all along the way, she and Husband had to wind their way alone through the entrails of the dimly-lit night-time hospital because her obstetrician didn't show up at the back door like he said he would. How she didn't know she was having a miscarriage and went into surgery thinking the doctor would make her bleeding stop and all would be well. How afterwards she was assigned to the maternity wing because the other wards were full, and some senile old nun doddered in and asked what she had, then turned huffy when Fio said she had a dog and a guinea pig. How when it was time for her to leave, the staff member helping her down the hall said the hospital wouldn't let her have a wheelchair because then she'd  feel sorry for herself. How one of her neighborhood friends told her that the miscarriage was God's way of saving her from having a deformed baby.

There are some of the better memories Fio has. The worst are even worse.

Ganging Up On God

Fiorella, a frequent Facebook contributor, winces every time she encounters an intensive, often gaudy, post asking people to pray for themselves or for others. She will, of course, ask for blessings on everyone who is having difficulties of any kind, but as you know, because of her Missouri Synod Lutheran upbringing, she does it privately, in her closet, not making a public display, "as the Pharisees do." Fio also cringes at prayer requests that imply God responds to popular demand, that the more people that are asking Him to perform a miracle, the better the chances. Fiorella can let both of these viewpoint pass--only God knows God--but she'll nail her own 99 Theses to the church door disputing the idea that God can be controlled by "holy ones"--priests, pastors, saints, etc.--that if the right person prays for a miracle long and hard enough, God will give in and grant it.

That "pastor" who thought he could cure his granddaughter through intensive prayer was operating out of his own ego. It was a power struggle. His granddaughter died because he tried to control God rather than laud His mercy for providing a medical treatment that could have saved his granddaughter's life. Fio prays for him, that he will seek God's love and forgiveness, as must we all.

Germinating

While I am on this earth, I want to make good use of my time. I want to draw and paint and decorate. I want to compose, write poems and stories, to learn languages and communicate. to be a good mother, wife, and friend, to be an instrument of God's love in all I do and say. And that's just for today.

Day/say, decorate/communicate--does Fiorella feel a poem coming on?

Happy Ending After All

Postscript:
Fio's wonderful neighbor, Mike, spotted her overturned wagon across the fenceline, and when he couldn't find her body, he took the wagon home, pumped up the tires, oiled whatever it is that wagons need oiled, shined it till it glittered, then left it in front of Fio's front porch, loaded with rocks, like a birthday present. May God bless him and his wife because Fiorella will never be able to return their many kindnesses in a million years.

 Moral of the story: Mother Nature can be a bitch, but good neighbors are God's precious gift.

Armed for Christmas

WARNING: This is not Fiorella's usual joyful Christmas message because she is deeply concerned about the state of the world, her country, and her family. Her children are going through perilous passages in their lives, her country has turned itself over to an out-and-out crook, and her world is being rampaged by madmen who use religion as an excuse to kill and destroy. Ignorance is celebrated. Corruption is the name of the game. Hate and anger ride the air waves.

Where are laughter and fellowship? Where are goodness, mercy, honesty, and compassion? Where is love? Fio can only pray that God will prevail, and she hopes you will also.

Fiorella Wants Her Card Case Back!

Fiorella is very upset, screaming upset, crying upset, cursing upset, throwing things upset, questioning God upset. Her card case, the one she got at the New York RWA conference in 2015, the one that has her two credit cards in it as well as her business cards, is gone, gone, gone. She and Husband had bought a few groceries at H-E-B yesterday evening, and apparently when they took them to the car, she put her precious card case in the tray of the small cart they had used, then did not retrieve the case when she parked the cart back at the store. She realized what had happened fifteen minutes later and drove back to the store, but no one had turned in her card case. She is now offering a $100 reward for its return.

Why is this happening to Fiorella? She is a good person, a nice person, someone who works hard, who gives and gives an gives, who pushes herself to do better every day in every way, a person who prays for others, who tries to help others, who puts up with a lot of crap, who has the patience of Job. But every now and then she cracks, and this is one of those times.

And she asks again--why, God?  Doesn't Fio have enough on her back right now?

Politics and God

As, one by one, Trump's choices for governmental positions are announced, Fiorella prays all the harder that either the recounts or the Electoral College will propel Hillary into the Presidency. What a wonderful Christmas present that would be to America.

But how in the world did Trump get this far? How did a blustering bully propel himself into being a legitimate candidate? What role did Russia play in the show? Where did the fake news stories come from? And most important, where is God?

Lament

Back to the weeping all the time--while driving, in the doctor's office, at home, at Target, wherever, because Fiorella is afraid. Having lived a life littered with unexpected hurdles and many black pits, Fiorella is the queen of what-if, and everything she pictures as the aftermath of the election is scary. Fiorella's angry too. Those who took the high road are being vilified while those who took the low road have been uplifted and glorified.

Where is God?

New Skill Set

Wow--Fio unleashed a firestorm on Facebook when she said that Hillary had self control and Trump didn't. The debate went vicious, then nasty when a Trump enthusiast sabotaged her timeline by posting fifteen copies of an anti-Hillary propaganda sheet. Luckily Fio woke up in the middle of the night (probably on a nudge from God) and figured out how to take them all down, thus adding a new tool to her electronic skill set.
Fio, who supports free speech even if it disagrees with her, has never had to censor anyone before.

New Skill Set

Wow--Fio unleashed a firestorm on Facebook when she said that Hillary had self control and Trump didn't. The debate went vicious, then nasty when a Trump enthusiast sabotaged her timeline by posting fifteen copies of an anti-Hillary propaganda sheet. Luckily Fio woke up in the middle of the night (probably on a nudge from God) and figured out how to take them all down, thus adding a new tool to her electronic skill set.
Fio, who supports free speech even if it disagrees with her, has never had to do that before.

Trump--The Man Who Would Be God

Fiorella has noticed that the Republican Presidential candidate is not on a first name basis with himself,  instead preferring to refer to himself as "Mr. Trump" or "President Trump," Even more preferable of course, is "God Trump."
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Have you picked up the pattern?  Whenever The Donald is in an uncomfortable situation--like visiting a black church, or being a guest on a talk show, or shuffling off to Mexico like a trained bear--he is totally non-reactive. There is no identification with his audience, no crossing of wits with Jimmy Kimmel, no meaningful discussion. The man has has no empathy, no wit, and no brain.
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Trump's FB ads have been a weird cross of hucksterism and begging.  They've also been amateurish--grammar errors and bizarre photos.  Fio suspects Trump and the Trumpets are making the videos themselves in the old Apprentice studio in Trump Tower, then billing the Republican National Committee big bucks for their "labor."

Here and There

Fio doesn't know which is worse, the Trumpery or the Duggary.
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Fiorella is a repository of secrets.
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If Fio had her way, the whole world be safe, sound, and secure, and all the drama would be restricted to fiction.
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Each baby is God's gift of another chance for the world.

Double Thanks

Dear Diary,

Instead of taking Sonia Dog to the vet the next morning, Husband took Fio to the emergency room.  Yes, Sonia was much recovered, but Fio couldn't seem to catch her breath.  By the time she reached the hospital, she was breathing just fine, but she spent three hours in a treatment room being checked out for everything from congestive heart failure to blood clots, eventually receiving a clean bill of health.

All Fio can say is that the whole episode was weird, and that she thanks God it wasn't more serious.  She is also thankful that Sonia is up and running.

Amen.  Amen.

On the Run

Buckle your seat belts because Fiorella is about to take you on a harrowing ride--her own.

She woke up a little late and hurried to get herself ready to drive into Austin and have brunch with Friend Evelyn at 10:00, then lunch with Friend Paula at 11:00.  But halfway down the road, she realized that although she had her laptop and list-for-the-day with her, she'd left her purse at home. Her purse--the little clutch that contains a small Kleenex packet, her drivers' license, her credit card, her insurance cards, several pens, and extra cash.

But, pressed for time, she didn't turn back. Instead, Fio drove very carefully and prayed a lot and reached Starbucks at 10:05.  But where was Friend Evelyn?  Come to think of it, had they actually set that date and time?

Fifteen uncomfortable minutes later--remember, Fio couldn't buy anything--she departed Starbucks. Where to go?  Maybe Half Price Books.  She'd sit in one of their plushy chairs and read.

But the plushy chairs were no more.  In their place were long tables.  Fiorella sat down at one of them  and opened her laptop--which a nice Japanese man hooked into wi-fi for her--and started working on her novella. During a pause, she read the fine print on a placard on the table and learned that the tables were for customers to sit down and read at, for book clubs to meet at, and book signings to be held at.

BOOK SIGNINGS!  Maybe God had driven Fiorella to Half Price for a purpose!

PS:  Although Fio ran twenty minutes late because she got involved in her novella, she did make it to lunch with Friend Paula.

 

Heaven's Choice

"I ain't riding off into the sunset, ever.  I'm a real believer in the Lord's will, and He's got something else He wants me to do," former Lt. Governor David Dewhurst recently told the Houston Chronicle.  Dewhurst said he's thinking of running for mayor  or starting up a large public venture. The article is accompanied by a picture of the newly made-over 69-year-old--smooth forehead, clipped hair, rejuvenated face and all.

You can tell Dewhurst is campaigning in Texas because he's using backwoods grammar and claiming he's one of God's chosen.  But Fio thinks that, while God can forgive bad grammar, there's a special place in hell for false prophets.

Theological Viewpoint

Churches can be very nice, but they are not sacred unto themselves. A church is a meeting place, not where God's lives.  God does not dwell therein or thereon. God is uncontained.  God is everywhere. Thus no place or site is any more sacred than any other.

All places are sacred.

Consider . . . .

The big bang theory is real--yes, the universe developed from the explosion of a single point.  But what existed before that single point?  God is real.
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Fiorella has read that atoms are few and far between out there in space.  So, what's between them?  Multiple dimensions are real.
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Fiorella has had the experience of walking into a situation, suddenly feel very light and floaty, and knowing exactly what was going to happen next and that she could control it.  Time is not real.

Good Friday

For friends and family
For love and laughter
For talents and skills
For hope and opportunity
For all things beautiful and interesting and exciting and new and true
For material goods, fortitude, and endurance
For life, safety, and health
For yesterday, today, and tomorrow

For the existence of this country, of this world

For your comfort, love, mercy, forgiveness, and promise of eternal life through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which we commemorate today

I thank Thee, Lord

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

It's amazing how fast "just one glazed doughnut" becomes a dozen.
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Fio wants someone to invent windshield wipers that will turn on automatically, then adjust their rhythm to the amount of rain falling on the car window.
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Maybe people die because they don't want to be old anymore.
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Once the unthinkable has happened, one realizes it can happen again.
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The universe is logical, and that logic is God.