Amendment to Thursday's Post

If you read Thursday's recipe for flawless peanut butter fudge and tried it, you may be mad at me today. Yikes. I made a batch Thursday evening. You might recall  I said I would drop it onto a pizza pan by tablespoons for a change.

Hmmph. It was too runny for that. I went ahead and put it in a baking dish, and it is - as always - delicious. But it has never gotten as firm as it should.

The only thing I can think of that may have happened is . . . I noticed when I was using the "less expensive" peanut butter that it was oilier than the most popular brands. It was the first time I didn't use Jiff.  I'm guessing that's the reason it didn't firm up.

So, add to that recipe . . . use the good stuff!

God bless.

Recipe for Peanut Butter fudge.

For starters I've got to tell you that I am not one of the "wonderful-cook-grannies" I have a few specialties that are pretty good if I do say so myself. But I haven't earned a reputation for making all these wonderful things that grandmothers are supposed to be able to make.

In fact, I sometimes have to call my son (who is a gourmet cook) and ask him what to do, or where did I go wrong.

But this stuff is flawless. Easy. Fast. No-boiling-on-the-stove-until-the-exact-moment-of-perfection-flawless! All you have to do is follow directions. But they're so e-a-s-y.

Ingredients:

1 lb box of powdered sugar
2 TBS butter
1/3 cup milk
1 cup creamy  peanut butter
1 cup (more or less) pecans. (optional)

Directions:

Dump sugar, butter, and milk into a mixing bowl. - DON'T MIX
Micro the above on high for 2 minutes
Beat well until combined.
Micro for 30 more seconds.
Add peanut butter, and mix well until completely combined. (This would be when to add the pecans.)
Spread in glass baking dish and let cool.

That's it! It takes about 15 minutes, max. And it's every bit as delicious as the tough-to-make stuff.

Next batch I'm going to drop it by tablespoons-full on a pizza pan instead of spreading it in a pan. And wrap the pieces. It might slow down our consumption. But then again, maybe not.

And remember - gluttony is a sin. Bwahaha

Navigating Amazon.com

Several folks have emailed me to ask why they can't find "Ian's Song" on Amazon. I checked it out, and sure enough, typing the title in exactly the way the book is listed does not bring up "Ian's Song." The first thing to pop up is "A Horse with Wings". Second: "Song of Time", third: "Finding Home." Scroll down, and finally in the fourth position is "Ian's Song."

I called Amazon to inquire about this, and was told the words Ian and Song are too common. Ouch. I love that name.The three books preceding mine are written by Ian Somebody or they had the word song in them. This combined with number of sales are the deciding factors. I didn't realize this. I thought if you  put the exact name in, the exact book would pop up. Who'd-a-thunk?

"Pastor McAlester's Bride" pops right up. As does "Winnoby Cabin." That's because, says the lady in the know, "Pastor McAlester's Bride" has more words in it, and therefore the computer has more to work with. And Winnoby is not a common word, so there's no competition for number one spot there.

But, she also told me - really stomping on my toes here - anybody who knows their way around the  internet . . . and the Amazon site in particular knows that if you put quotation marks around the title . . . you will get exactly what you're looking for.  

I didn't know that. Did you know that? Let me know if you didn't.

It'll make me feel not quite so dumb.

2 Chronicles 7:14

I began this blog anew yesterday - August 23. I have a long way to go to build it back up. And I apologize to those who were reading it, but grew discouraged when day after day, week after week, nothing new was posted.

I have a new maxim. It goes like this: I'm Lynne. I make mistakes.

And boy, have I been making my share of them of late. Regarding the verse of scripture I'm featuring today, I am admitting my ignorance of the Scriptures. My only comfort is . . . I must have a lot of company, because our pastor built a whole message on what I'm going to say today.

Many, many posts have been made to Face Book asking people to claim this verse. And pray.

2 Chronicles 7:14 . . . and My people who are called by My name humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. NAS

Each time I read that post, my heart would break. How, I asked myself, can we get the very people who are trashing God's word to "turn from their wicked ways"? Try though we may . . . we haven't been able to change enough minds about abortion, homosexuality, same-sex marriage, etc. to make a difference. They don't see themselves as sinners. And our nation is going down the tubes.

Perhaps some of you have felt the same way. Yesterday it was pointed out to me where I was missing the whole point. The Scripture says "My people who are called by My name." WE are the ones God's speaking to. Not those we battle against. WE are the ones who must turn from our wicked ways. But, we don't see ourselves as sinners, either.

When WE, God's people, humble ourselves (lose the pride of "being right"), pray, and turn from our wicked ways. (gossip? hurtful remarks? cheating? lustful thoughts? adultery? - all those "I'm not hurting anyone else with my actions" sins) They are just as wicked in God's eyes as those things we consider "major sins." We don't have to clean up the nation. We only have to clean up our act.

As God's people, we need to humble ourselves, turn from our wicked ways, and pray. We have to remind ourselves that "with God, all things are possible." And God will take it from there.

A NEW DAY, A NEW DAWNING (This blog site remodeled for your improved enjoyment)

It's been so long since I've posted to this blog, I'm not sure anyone will see it. But I must write it in order to give this new day a dawning. (I'm having a little trouble navigating the site. Bear with me. It will all come back ,. . . sooner or later)

There's nothing more boring than reading about illness and hospitalization . . . so I'll keep that part as brief as possible.
 
So far, 2015 has been nothing but a blur. I can't remember what, if anything, I accomplished in January and February. And I'm not just saying that. It's the truth. I carelessly tripped on a wire and fell on Feb. 22.  Broke my hip.  I spent February 23 to March 18 in the hospital and rehab, and when I got home, I had no idea where I'd left off.
 
I spent those 24 days, first in a state of oblivion, which progressed into a sort of euphoria, and finally settled into contentedness. I had no responsibilities other than to eat, sleep, and perform an hour's worth of "torture" at the hands of the therapists each day. Staff made my bed and brought my meals.
 
I developed a playful relationship with the therapy staff, pretending to hide when they came after me. I made friends with roommates, therapists, nurses, and administrative staff. Some of whom I've kept in close contact. And I'm sure they will always be a part of my life.
 
I never turned on my TV (And was blessed with two different roommates who didn't either.) So, I spent a lot of time reading and praying. And mentally cataloging those things I'd neglected. (One of which was my blog.) And unlike everyone else there, who couldn't wait to be released, I was a little sad when it came time to leave.
 
Maybe partly because I knew what to expect when I got home.
 
Twenty-four days  of work, piled on my desk. Not to mention the backlog that was there before I left. Since that day I've been catching up in sort of a robotic mode. And I can - at last - see the light at the end of the tunnel. (I sure hope it's not a train.)
 
So, here on the 235th day of 2015, I'm beginning anew. Starting with my blog.
 
I'm not changing the name, because it's a constant reminder to me - and hopefully to those who read it - that we can take no comfort in the ways of the world. And we are safe only in the arms of Jesus.
 
But I'm changing my style to include many eclectic subjects about which I 've wanted to write, but didn't seem to fit my self-imposed pattern.
 
No more self-imposed pattern. Whatever God lays on my heart . . . I will lay on you, my readers. Sometimes it may even be a recipe. (But not for Devil's Food Cake. LOL)

I know some folks will be curious about the change of featured covers. I'll explain that, too.
 
Right now I'd like to write about a certain verse of scripture that's posted on FB with abandon. What it means and what I used to think it meant. But I've kept you pretty long already today. So, I'll save it for tomorrow.
 
Be blessed.
 
   
 
 

Why Do We Fight So Hard?

Have you ever wondered why Christians fight so hard to keep from going home? In prayer and in church, we express our deep need to see Jesus "face-to-face." Yet when the rubber meets the road and it looks like we might get our wish, we start furiously back-tracking.

"Years ago" I prayed a desperate prayer. (It's okay to talk about the outlandish things we've done in our lives, as long as we preface it with "years ago." Few of us would admit the outlandish things we did yesterday, or the day before.) Looking back, I'd say it was a foolish prayer, but at the time it seemed appropriate.

I told God "If this is the best it's ever going to be, I wish You'd call me home now." Within weeks I became desperately ill. Whether I was "sick unto death" or not, I'll never know. But I was scared. I was sure God was answering my prayer. And, of all things, I did an about-face. I asked Him to forgive me for uttering that prayer and heal me. More than anything in the world, I wanted more time on earth.

I was pretty young at the time. Whether or not God had allowed my illness to come on me, who knows. But I imagine He was smiling and shaking His head, saying "Make up your mind, child."

I know of a church-going man in his mid-90's who was hospitalized and near the end. He begged his children to do whatever was necessary . . . but to please not let him die. (As though they had the power to keep him alive.) In time he did, of course, die. With  his pastor at his side. I think he'd made a decision for Christ years earlier . . . so why the abject fear of death?

This man's experience made me think about the extremes we go to in order to spend another year, another month, another day in this place. A place that's becoming more and more intolerant of us and of our God.  Which begs the question . . . at what age, or at what point in our spiritual maturity do we finally fully grasp the scriptural truth that to live is Christ and to die is gain. GAIN . . . that means it's better there than it is here.

There is no existence that can transcend being in the presence of our Lord and Savior.

In case you think I'm sounding suicidal . . . may it never be. I would never rush God. But neither will I throw any roadblocks in His way if He decides it's my time, nor fight the inevitable in an attempt to keep this aging body reluctantly operating. If  Jesus doesn't come before, I may have another twenty years on this planet. But I will spend every minute of that time in sweet anticipation of what is to come.

Where do you stand on this subject?

Just Passin' Through

This world is not my home. I'm just passing through. THANK GOD.

Jesus is my Security, my Resting Place, my Peace, and my Hope. When the things of this earth get too weird and unsafe for my mind to fathom . . . and they are indeed weird and unsafe, not the same world I grew up in . . . I turn to Him and He reminds me that He has everything under control.

The Good Potter

By guest author, Amber O'Fallon
Copyright 06/24/2013

With an almost reverent touch, the potter lifted the precious piece of clay and placed it firmly in the  middle of the wheel. He'd waited a long time for this very special clay. It would be molded into something  wonderful. The motor was purring as it waited, in neutral, for the master's  touch that would set it in motion. There's something approaching spirituality in the molding of a lump of clay into something beautiful.

After patting it with a small bit of water to keep the clay pliable as it was worked, the potter reached down, flipped the switch, and the wheel began to turn.

The potter turned and left to get a cup of coffee, calling over his shoulder as he left the room. "Make wise decisions."

As the speed of the wheel increased, watery bits of clay began to fly in all directions. The precious lump, so carefully placed in the middle of the wheel began to spread from the centrifugal force. Soon the main body of the lump dislodged and began to shift toward the outer perimeters of the wheel.

Splat! The clay flew from the wheel, hit the workbench, and plopped into the trashcan.

Ruined!

The potter, enjoying his coffee, heard a noise and rushed back into his workroom. Wet clay residue was still flying from the speeding wheel. The room was a mess.

How had this happened? Hadn't he done everything right? He used the best and most modern equipment. Bought the very best raw clay. He had great love and expectations for that lump of clay. Yet, instead of molding itself into something beautiful, it had fallen into ruin!

Pretty ridiculous, right? No one is that dumb.

So why would anyone expect a tender, pliable child to be able to mold itself into something wonderful? The potter must be present, and hands on for the end result to be a thing of beauty. There's a current trend to allow children to make their own decisions at a very early age,  so they'll be able to make wise decisions as they mature. But common sense tells us children don't make good decisions. It's a learned ability, like reading and writing. They have to have a pattern of wisdom to follow and lean on. If they're not carefully molded, they'll fly apart and fall into ruin . . . like that hapless lump of clay.

Children are facing bigger problems . . . fiercer enemies . . . than we did. More than ever, they need a potter.

A good potter. A present potter.

Boston Ferns

Every spring I buy at least one Boston Fern. And every summer (early in the summer) I throw it away because it has been scorched and dried out by the sun. In spite of frequent watering. Yet if you hang them where there is no sun, they wither.

This year I found the perfect setting. A part of my front porch gets a minimal amount of sun, but a good deal of daylight. Wow. I'd finally found the secret to a happy, healthy Boston Fern. It was  thriving, and I was proud. 

Then one day, I reached the spout of my little green watering can in and out flew a bird. I pulled up a chair, stood on it, and peered in. Right where I was getting ready to douse the plant there was a hole dug in the dirt, and a deep bird nest with two tiny eggs in it. To water the plant would be to soak the eggs. Now, if I understand correctly, bird eggs are porous, and if they're submerged in water, the egg can't "breathe."

What is more important, a Boston Fern, or  two potential baby birds? No contest. The plant is history!

We've been listening for a sign of life, and this morning, while having our coffee a mere three feet from the location of the nest, we saw the Mama drop into the plant with something in her mouth. Nano-seconds later, the sound of baby birds squealing for breakfast. I couldn't see them, but I knew their  little beaks were wide open to receive!

The plant is looking awful. But there's always next year.

Somehow I think I'm supposed to fit in the theme of this blog, "The Battle is Real."  Well, it is. And we must fight the good  fight without ceasing. But along the way, don't forget to appreciate the creation God has blessed us with. Like the sound of newly-hatched baby birds, squealing for their breakfast.

No Condemnation

Romans 8:1, NAS: There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

WOW!

Are you aware, as I am, that a seemingly good message from the pulpit can mess up your relationship with the Lord? For years? I'm not saying "separate you from the Lord" . . . but simply put a crimp in what should be a wrinkle-free relationship?

Years ago . . . I'm guessing ten or fifteen . . . I listened to, and absorbed, a message from a young evangelist. After a vivid portrayal of exactly what our Lord went through the day he was crucified, down to the last horrid detail, this young man went on to the 'meat' of his message.

Now, I'm a firm believer everyone should be aware of exactly how much our Lord suffered in our stead. If you aren't up to speed on how great His sacrifice, you should make it a point to study up on it, and let it soak into your heart and soul. So this is not the part of the message from the pulpit that disturbed my spirit for years to come.

The evangelist went on to say; when a Christian sins (and we all do) we literally drag Jesus back to the cross to suffer again to pay for that sin. I may be oversimplifying, but this was the crux of his message.

I cry regularly when I think of what He suffered for me. But this revelation brought such sorrow to my heart I could barely endure it, thinking that I, personally, had caused Him to return to the cross . . . again and again. My pleas for forgiveness were overshadowed by the thought that I had no right to come to Him again. And I could never know the complete freedom of forgiveness because this shadow of guilt hovered over me.

I've been under the weather for about a month. I spent an inordinate amount of time in bed, unable to sleep. I spent a lot of time talking to the Lord. So it was just this past month He reminded me of this disturbing message. He brought it to my mind so that He might personally refute it!

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." No condemnation! He does not go back to the cross each time we sin. It was paid for . . . past, present, and future . . . when He went to the cross over two-thousand years ago. Because He knew, even then, that the flesh is weak. He knew that even those who'd given their hearts to Him would fail from time to time. He paid for ALL of our sins. Every last one. The black ones from our unsaved past, the ignorant ones we commit from day to day, and every other sin we might dream up in the future. He has saved us from them . . . just as long as we hold onto Him as our Lord and Savior.

He does not come back into the realm of time to suffer again. He is in eternity, sitting at the right hand of God the Father. Interceding for us. His family.

I have had a burden lifted from my heart with this word from the Lord. I would that every person who sat under that well-meaning, but mistaken young evangelist could read this message and be freed from a burden of guilt.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus!

Live it. Believe it.

Remember, Satan doesn't want you to have a wrinkle-free relationship with Christ. 

Because . . . The Battle is Real.