Jude Stringfellow's Blog, page 98

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms - of God

 The lyrics go like this:

"What a fellowship, what a joy divineLeaning on the everlasting arms
What a blessedness, what a peace is mine
Leaning on the everlasting armsLeaning, leaning
Safe and secure from all alarms
Leaning, leaning
Leaning on the everlasting armsWhat have I to dread, what have I to fear
Leaning on the everlasting arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near
Leaning on the everlasting arms"(songwriters: Elisha Hoffman and Anthony J. Showalter)
For many years I stood in church and dutifully opened my Hymnal to sing this particular song at one of the various Baptist churches I attended throughout my lifetime. I always say everyone should start out a Baptist, and remain one for at least 12 years and then maybe as a teenager, when they begin to rebel, they can make a choice to attend another church or no church at all, however, the 12 solid years of being a Baptist will at least instill in their lives, hearts, minds, souls, and every breath, that Jesus Christ is Lord, and here are the details to every last story in the entire Bible -- there will be a test in the form of Bible Drills! It will happen.    "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" - - yes, please.  There was a time, so many times, when I was flopped into the arms of the Lord, drug up from the depths of my own self pity by His gracious hand, and those arms of His reached around me and held me close so I knew I was safe; nothing could harm me.  There were times I ran from those long arms of His, and hoped I could out run Him, but we all know how that ends, right? C'mon, we don't all have to hold degrees in Rocket Science to know that no one can really hide from God; not me, not you, not anyone - - we will get to our own personal Nineveh if we are to go, and we should seriously just own it.
    "What have I to dread, what have I to fear" is the one line I sang lifelessly as a kid as a teen, even as a young adult, but the second the doctor looked me in the eyes and said "You're pregnant" I knew exactly what it was that I was going to be fearing...my dad. I knew I disrespected him, I knew I would have dishonored him, and I knew that he was going to be so very disappointed in my choices. I was 23 years old, old enough to be on my own, and I was living on my own, but that didn't mean I wasn't still Daddy's little girl! I was. I remembered within my Baptist bible teaching that what I did, even if I was engaged, was just not really what a daddy wanted to hear - - and then the rest of this song flooded my heart. The part that says "I have blessed peace with my Lord so near",  I knew God would make it all better if I just returned to Him and asked for His  help. Wow, He helped big time!
    Now, I don't know if God was just being sweet to me, or if He had something more tangible in mind, but when my sister Linda gave birth to her two beautiful children, they were both girls. Reuben, my son, the one I (yes I did) named after my father, was and is the only boy in our family. He is my dad's grandson, the only one.  I gave my parents two more grands, but they were both girls too.  Reuben is the boy. Talk about brownie points; and no, you're not supposed to do that, and no, it's not right, it's not fair, it's really sexist, and yeah, we get that, but still, it is what it is, and Reuben, my son, saved my hide with my dad. For 53 years my dad went by his middle name Wayne until he found out I was going to name my son after his first name and suddenly that ancient old Bible name didn't sound so odd or off the wall to him.  Reuben.  It literally means "Behold, my son" or in simple terms "It's a boy".  Boy, oh boy, Reuben, my son, is one heck of a boy!  I was going to need those everlasting arms of Jesus for the rest of my life! (Thank God)
    Another artist, Steph Macleod of Scotland, wrote a song titled "One Day at a Time" and in that song he repeats a phrase that really hits hard too; it is, "Surrender, is the answer, I believe in a higher power".  Wow, wow, and again wow. Yes, yes, I do. I thoroughly and whole-heartedly believe in a higher power, there just isn't another reason or answer as to how things work out good when after I screw them up so badly. God and God alone is the reason I am still standing, still breathing, still working, still holding up, still loving, still writing, still thanking Him. I believe in a higher power, but not just any higher power, but the ONLY higher power there is, and that is our God, our King, Jesus, the true living Son of Almighty God. 
    "Safe and secure from all alarms".  I am safe. I am secure. I couldn't think of any other way to live other than to just let go of any and all things that cause suffering, pain, stress, anxiety, fear - - what is fear? I don't know it now. I am not always the stoic and strong minded, but I am always the strong willed and I will always return to the closet to pray (while clutching my rock) and I'll always and only pray to my God through His Son, there just isn't another way - - anything else would be to give up those everlasting arms, and no thank you, that will not do.  Another song, another hymn just wrapped itself around my brain just now, the start of it goes like this:
"I stand amazed in the presence
Of Jesus the Nazarene,
And wonder how He could love me,
A sinner, condemned, unclean."   by Charles Gabriel. 
I do. I stand amazed.  I have no idea why or how He could love me, but He did, and He does, and that alone is reason to just....breathe and thank Him.

My daddy Reuben Wayne Stringfellow, son of Reuben Jefferson Stringfellow, and my son Reuben Andrew Stringfellow. 

Rethinking and Reworking

 About 16 years ago I released a book that some call "With a Little Faith" (the actual title) and others call it the "husband bashing guideline" because in the book I do tell the truth about what happened to my family and I at the hands of my then, now former, husband, and I am neither shy about telling the truth, nor am I regretting what I said. The truth, the real truth is, I left out more than 70% of what we truly went through and I changed his name to protect him; if I had given his real identity he could have and probably would have been dead at the hands of someone who felt that our family (and me) didn't deserve such treatment. I didn't want to be a party to that, and I certainly didn't wish that on him even if we were not friendly; even if he was in fact much worse than I explained. 

    So why then, why after 16 years am I considering rewriting the book and releasing it again under the same title, but with a disclaimer (perhaps even a full introduction) giving the reader insight to the fact that not only has my ex-husband found Christ as his personal savior, he has, over the past several years, been a good grandfather to our grandchildren, he's been a good husband to his wife of over 20 years, and he's been a better father to one of our daughters. It would be wonderful if he could get over himself and decide to be a father to both, but that ship has in fact sailed, and no amount of begging or asking for forgiveness will penetrate Laura's heart even if he were interested (which I'm told he is not) to do.  It's unfortunate, but the very good news is, that when we all get to Heaven he will be there, she will be there, they will no longer be angry at each other, and there will be peace in that valley once and for all.

    The book "With a Little Faith" was written in 2005, at a time when I was struggling as a single parent to raise three teenaged children, I think Reuben was 19, Laura was 16 and Caity was 15. Each and every one of them were going in completely different directions, living completely different types of lifestyles, and about the only two things they all had in common was that they lived with me and they were spending every last dime I had - - and then Reuben moved out of the house and continued to spend his share of my money, but at least we had a free toilet, less laundry, more milk in the house, and the house smelled more like a bunch of girls rather than one stinky farty man child who preferred to play an hour or so on the console before showering after he'd run 5 miles in the summer heat! My poor couch. (What am I saying? My poor everything! That boy stunk!)

    The book was written at a time when we (the family) resembled a hand with each of us being represented by a finger - - me, I was the index finger. I pointed out things, I was there to lead things, be first in line, and make sure things were completed.  Reuben, the middle finger -- in more ways than one, and he was the taller one, the stronger one, the forceful one, the protector, and the dictator of the family. He was in fact, the "Man of the House" and had been since he was about 11 years old.  Laura was the ring finger, the gentle one, the caring one. Did you know that the ring finger on the left hand actually has a direct vein to the heart? Laura had a direct vein to mine, she wasn't hard enough, she wasn't tough. Tough? That position belonged to Caity, the baby, the pinkie finger. Let me tell you - - that pinkie finger was used over and over again in our family as we swore to each other over and over again, that we would always tell the truth no matter how ugly it got, and it got pretty damn ugly. Caity was the pinkie.

    Every hand needs a thumb to go across the fingers when they form a fist. If the thumb doesn't cross the fist you have a hitchhiker's thumb sticking out looking for a ride - - maybe a thumbs up or a thumbs down hand, it could go either way.  Faith (the dog Faith) was our thumb.  She crossed our family and held us together in so many ways. She was in fact, how I made my income. I took the dog literally around the world to see soldiers, children, people in hospitals, convalescent homes and in corporations as well.  She was an inspiring ambassador for hope, peace, love, joy, and yes, faith.  She was in the very essence of the meaning, the reason we were a family at that time. She forced us to pay attention to her needs and in doing so we were blessed and we were able to draw meaning and hope from just her very presence. Just seeing her laying on the couch resting could bring a sense of utter peace to anyone. This dog did not fear anything. She did not fret. She did not worry. She did not wonder where she was going, how she would get there, what she was about to do, and there was not an ounce of regret in her. She was the epitome of living by faith -- we needed that.

    I wrote the book and told the truth. I included the good, I included the bad, I included the ugly. I included the truth.  I did extend my writing to ranting at times. I did overtly express my anger at why I was thrust into bankruptcy, illness without health care, and losing my job (no wait, jobs) due to my former husband and the things he did to us when we were a family, when we divorced, when I got sole custody of the girls, and afterwards. I wasn't paid any child support, I did have to scrape, struggle, fight, claw my way, and bite my tongue a 1000 times in order to stay employed no matter what was happening (ethically); I couldn't risk going under the current again. I had drown so many times. 

    Jesus walked on my waters over and over again, lifting me, hoisting me, carrying me. It was HARD people, and I let that (and those times) reflect openly in the book. I told it like it was - - and again, I could have been so much worse, but for the sake of his very life, did not tell the full story. No one would believe it anyway. The attempts on my life, the suicide by wife attempts, the throwing animals out the window of a moving car on the highway - - no, I did not tell every detail, no I did not tell every story because I had survived them - - Jesus had carried me up to His throne and I needed to hold back, so I did.

    Now, some 16 years later, I've chosen to buy another copy of the book through Amazon for (get this) $4.00 and free shipping.  I'm going to re-read it, make changes, re-release it as a 3rd edition, and hopefully sell as many copies as was sold in the 2nd and 1st editions. That would be nice. I will write out the introduction to reflect that I am no longer hoping my ex dangles over the pit of Hell to be roasted and I will possibly even thank him for his continued love and earnest support of our daughter Caity and her wonderful kids Copeland and Sailor, who absolutely love their Papa and they should. I will never take his status with them; he is a good grandpa. 

    That being said, I have decided to possibly redo the book through Palmetto Publishing rather than Xlibris, so I can upload it into Ingram Sparks. The whole matter will take a minute, and I'm not thinking it will be the first assignment on my mind or on my calendar; but it will happen.  I want to be forthcoming and honest with my readers and let them see that time does change things and if it does it should receive the benefit of the doubt. It doesn't in any way change what we went through; it doesn't make any of it go away.  What it does is show that even through the pain of life is stabbing at times, there is a healer, there is a solution; He is God. He is Christ. We only have to surrender, and all will be put into place. I only wish I had learned that lesson so many many years ago. I was just too busy raising three kids to get it fully into my head that I cannot and should not do it without Christ in the center of it all. If there was ONE thing I could get through to anyone it would be to walk WITH A LITTLE FAITH in your step and in your soul. 

Photo credit: Stephen Holman (Tulsa) 

The Roman Road to Salvation

 Being a Baptist has its perks.  I was born on a Wednesday, and I'm not kidding you, I was in the church nursery that Sunday morning. It is what it is, and I have been grateful to Jesus since the day I was born for the good teaching and training I received from my Baptist parents who were raised by good Christian Baptists, who were raised by good Christian Baptists, who...you get the point. For any and all, this message is for those who have not accepted Christ as their Savior, and for those who are hoping to help others find their way to Christ.  

    I know that not everyone was born into a loving and caring family, and I know that some loving and caring families are not believers in Jesus, like mine was/is.  For that reason, I want to share with you the means and way to find Jesus as your Lord today. It's too important to just ignore, and as a follower I know the benefits and security of knowing I am not only forgiven for all the things I've done, but I have an eternal promise that I'll be spared an eternity in Hell. It's a hard thing to discuss with anyone who doesn't want to understand God's love. You can't lead unreasonable people to Christ, only those who are looking to find the truth. I'm sharing with you, that truth today!

    I did NOT create the Roman Road to Salvation, but will cheerfully pass it on to you, and hope that you will pass it on to more.  God bless you, and may He keep you in His heart and show His face to you, every day of your life here on Earth, and every eternal moment hereafter.

The Roman Road to Salvation is a quick and easy reference guide that gives you 5 steps, easy peasy steps, to becoming born again.  It starts with why you are on the Road to begin with. Are you seeking Jesus? If you are, read the following verses, think about them, take them as being authentic, and find your way. Blessings.

THE ROMAN ROAD TO SALVATION - - Follow it. 

Romans 3:23 "For all have sinned and come short of the Glory of God."  That word ALL includes me, and it includes you. No one is exempt. We have all sinned. Because we are sinners, we fall short of what is perfect, and only that which is perfect can be with Almighty God. That presents a problem for all of us.

Romans 5:8  "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this while we were still sinners Christ died for us"   OK, problem solved.  Jesus came from Heaven to Earth to show us the way - He is in fact the only reason we can be saved. He died, but more importantly, He arose from the grave and is our salvation. 

Romans 6:23 "For the wages of sin is death, but the (free) gift of God is eternal life through Jesus".  THERE, do you see it? God wanted to be with us, Jesus came to Earth as a sacrifice for us, and through HIS blood, we are saved - - but how? What do we have to do in order for that to actually happen?

Romans 10:9-10  (9) "If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. (10). For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved."

There you go - you must believe.  It's not hard to do when you realize that the very air you've been breathing all this time didn't come from you, from a scientist, or any man, but from a loving and giving Creator who wants to be with you eternally. 

... and finally,

Romans 10:13 "Everyone who calls upon the Lord will be saved."  That everyone again, includes me, and it includes you. God cannot lie. It is impossible for God to lie. So if He says you'll be saved, you'll be saved.  

It seems so simple because it is simple:

1. Are you a sinner?  Yes

2. Do you need to be saved? Yes

3. Did God provide you a way?  Yes

4.  Do you believe Jesus is the way? That He is in fact, the Son of the Almighty God? 

5. If you believe He is, and He is, will you accept Him as your personal Savior? Someone to lead, guide, and instruct you? That's your choice, and I pray you will. There is a simple prayer you can pray if you aren't familiar with prayer. If you are familiar with prayer, just talk to Jesus and ask Him to come into your life, and to forgive you of your sins.  The simple "Sinner's Prayer" is this:

"Dear Lord Jesus, I know that I am a sinner, and I ask for Your forgiveness. I believe You died for my sins and rose from the dead. I turn from my sins and invite You to come into my heart and life. I want to trust and follow You as my Lord and Savior." 

Photo credit: Etsy

Celtic Worship

 It's been about two years now I suppose, maybe a little less, since I was sitting at my desk (this one, in fact) minding my own business, when I was just thinking about the music I was listening to, which was absolutely wonderful.  I remember it was something from my Alan Williams collection; so it could have been literally any genre you could possibly imagine; the man is a master! While I was listening to his exquisitely measured and calculated tones the thought occurred to me that whatever it was that I was listening to seemed rather Celtic in nature - - it just sort of felt woodsy, forresty, and even lending me to think maybe a waterfall was closer than I thought.  That's when the thought, a completely different and new thought, came into my harmoniously soaked brain; "I could actually be listening to Celtic music if I wanted to, and oh hey, if I really really got honest with myself, I could be listening to Celtic worship music and proverbially kill two birds with one stone."  (I don't actually throw rocks at birds; not even in my mind, I want you to know that.)

    Celtic worship music. Combined.  It was a concept that I thought should surely be available and if it was in fact available, it would be online, and if it was online, it would be easily found through a Google search, and there it was...I was correct. When I put a few words into the search engine I found something; something GOLD (as one artist would put it). I found Celtic worship music alright, but it came in the fashion of an actual band whose name is in fact, CELTIC WORSHIP. That's convenient! You seek, you find. Works every time; and Google isn't the one to get credit for that one; nope, all the praise goes straight to God! Not only did God know that everyone would want to listen to Celtic worship music, He knew in His intimate and ultimate ways, that there should be a band named Celtic Worship so that anyone like me, and anyone like you, could search for it and be blessed to know there really is such an animal. 

    If you know me at all, you would know that I visit the Oklahoma Zoological Park as often as possible; I have a lifetime membership I think. I go year round and I often takes friends and family because its more fun to walk the 5.2 miles with someone - - and where am I going with this? I'll tell you; I just said earlier, that Celtic Worship (the band) is a different type of animal! They are.  In my opinion, and it may only be mine, they are the Okapi of the music world. 

     There, I managed to link the Zoo, one of my favorite places to be, with an awesome band using the ultimately unknown and unsung Okapi, which to me, again, my opinion, is what Celtic Worship is at this point.  No one besides me knew who they were when I began talking them up at social settings, music stores, and such, as if they were the greatest Christian band since Casting Crowns or Mercy Me! I mean it too! I really mean it, they are an amazing group and they just pour their hearts and souls into their music -- with every song, every verse, every stance, with every everything. They truly are true to the profession of music in that they are all gifted and talented musicians as well as gifted and talented singers, songwriters, musical engineers and craftsman.  They are the Okapi that no one knows about, but oh, when you see it, you never ever forget it, and you want one so very badly!  I wanted a CD from this band the very first chord of the very first song that I found on YouTube. I think it was "10,000 Reasons" that I heard first.

    That afternoon, or at least several hours of it, was spent finding every video I could, and listening over and over again to their songs. I tried another Google search and found that they had a website, they had a CD out, it was called "Homeward" and it was pretty new!  I wrote to the band through Facebook I think, and I requested a means by which to buy their CD.  I bought it - - and then I promptly lost it and had to order a 2nd one, and then you know I found the first, but it's OK, my daughter now has a Celtic Worship CD for her car too!  It all works out for the best.  

    The band has been together a few years, and I forgot to mention earlier that not only are they Celtic, they are from Scotland! Woo Hoo!   Most of the members hail from or around Glasgow, and one or two from Edinburgh; to say they are truly genuinely and authentically marvelous would be an understatement and I hope that you'll consider viewing them on YouTube and then ordering from their website at: www.celticworship.co.uk  You'll not be disappointed.  

    At the time of this writing the band members are:  Scott and Mhairi Marwick Wood (married) Gus and Naomi Stirrat (married) Ifedade Thomas, Chris Amer and Steph Macleod.  Scott is the piper and you just can't say enough about his talents on and off the stage; he's one of the masters behind the scenes as well with Gus.  Mhairi, pretty as ever, is the world's greatest violinist, (sorry Lindsey) and she brings life to every song.  Gus is the bass player, another behind the scenes man with the biggest smile ever; his wife Naomi is an actress as well as a singer, and her voice will send you to the Moon! Ifedade "Dade", is the drummer and he's kind of like a hummingbird with his arms moving so fast you can't even see them, but you hear that great noise!! You know he's there! (also an amazing smiler) and Chris Amer plays tenor guitar and to be honest, other than knowing he's in the band and he's amazingly talented, I haven't really read much about him. He's the strong silent type.  I know that Dade and his wife sing independently, and I know that Scott and Gus produce music for many other groups, bands, and individuals.

    The lead singer (a position shared actually with Naomi) is Steph Macleod, an accomplished singer and songwriter on his own, having been on the UK music scene for years.  Steph travels as a worship leader around Scotland, but has in the past traveled the world singing and leading worship as an individual and with other Christian artists through concerts and festivals. Recently Steph along with Celtic Worship, created a musical assembly of more than 40 people singing from their homes via Zoom or another platform.  They sang "Amazing Grace" in a unique and inspiring message to benefit one of my favorite charities, the Bethany Christian Trust (www.bethanychristiantrust.com) such an incredible force when you see what they put together. You can YouTube that too, and I hope you will (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOiKZ...) -- and if you can, please consider donating to the Bethany Christian Trust via my website at www.judestringfellow.com/donate  I would truly appreciate it, and I know they would as well.

    Well, that's about it - - I can't say more about Celtic Worship other than to say more about Celtic Worship!  They have a 2nd LP coming out very soon - - one I've heard excerpts from, and I can assure you it is awesome with a CAPITAL A.  I can't wait for it to be released. If and when you have a chance, please do yourself a favor and check out this imaginative, inspiring, unique, and Okapi-worthy band. You will thank yourself for it, and you'll never ever forget you found them. (You can follow them on Instagram as well.)  Oh, and so you know, the Okapi is not only fantabulously unique, it is one of the kindest, more gentle animals you'll ever encounter -- God knew what He was doing when he put it together!

www.celticworship.co.uk

www.bethanychristiantrust.com

www.judestringfellow.com/donate 

Photo credit: Allevents.in  (if it needs to be further credited please let me know, and I will do so)

Photo credit: AZ Animals

Sometimes the English Comes Out in Me

 Yes, (Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm admitting this online and in real life) I am part English as well as Scottish. There, I said it, it is what it is, I didn't get a vote in the matter, and I can't change it no matter how hard I try to fake my accent. I am a Stringfellow, and we are from the Border area(s) that divide the two countries of Scotland and England.  From the history books to the unsung traditions and/or stories, I gleaned and studied as much about my family history as I could on my father's side; I let my sister do most of the work if I had to be honest about it.  

    My sister went through books, references, letters, archives, websites, and anything else she could find and use to make sense of where it was that we Stringfellows came from exactly.  As far back as she could reach with legal and/or records inside of family Bibles, the Stringfellows were in England in the 12th century, migrated partially (at least our side) to Scotland in the mid 14th century, set up camp in the bordering areas, but there were a few who fought with William Wallace and/or their names have been laced with that lure for years.  Whether or not any of it is true is anyone's guess. We truly only have the word of those who chose to record whatever they chose to record.

    To date, we have found that most of the Stringfellows that are in direct line with my dad were from the Edinburgh area and just south and west of the main city, most of the brood decided not to live in or near the city itself, but clung to the rivers and creeks (burns) that lace the outskirts on both the east and west side of the city, but on the south of it, not north past the Firth of Forth. Sadly, it is true, the Stringfellows are not from the Kingdom of Fife; I have to live with that fact. I would love to say I am Jude Stringfellow, Queen of the Fife, but it's not going to happen. I can dream. It's much closer to truth to say I am Jude Stringfellow, daughter of a man who is son of a man who is son of a man who is son of a man, etc, who came from the bordering townships of lower and central Scotland back in the day. The most prominent of the Stringfellows that we could find was William Stringfellow, grandfather of James Stringfellow, again, English/Scottish bred, but at least we know James married Mary Campbell in and/or near 1660 she was definitely Scottish. I'll cling to that. James and his lot moved to America in the later part of the 1660s.

    Today however, I suppose my English ancestors were up in Heaven tickling my ears, because I became interested in making both homemade lemon curd and raisin scones so that I could put it all together and have high tea at 4:00 p.m. for no reason whatsoever, other than to say that I did it. I do actually have the wherewithal inside my skull to make both recipes without looking at them on paper or from Google recipes. I've made both for years; it was fun to make them together and pour myself a hot cup of Earl Grey loose tea for the occasion.  I often roll loose Earl Grey and smoke it for the hell of it, but today it was steeped and served hot with my British ancestors at hand just over my right shoulder as I practiced trying to drink from my tea cup with the tiny tiny thin handles. I don't know who thought that was a good idea - - it's not.

    Scones are amazingly fun to make, and they're so easy too. I think the prep time is about 3 minutes and the cooking time about 12 on heat, then I turn off the oven and let them get all golden brown before whisking them hot out of the oven and slathering them with fresh lemon curd. I'm not gonna lie, the lemon curd was to die for too, and it wasn't even fully cooled from being made an hour earlier. It was still a bit runny - - OH MY GOSH too good for words, and I had to drown myself in Earl Grey before I had a food moment that could possibly disturb the neighbors.  I only made 9 scones so it wasn't as if I could actually invite them over; I am saving the others for Laura and I so we can have them for breakfast tomorrow. Self preservation.

    If you take the time to Google the two words "Stringfellow" and "England" you're going to find a very cheeky fellow, possibly a pedophile, by the name of Peter Stringfellow. Peter is a very very distant relative, we both have Reuben, Robert, Richard, and William Stringfellows in our background.  Peter was the well known playboy owning several night clubs called Stringfellows - I think they had a butterfly as part of their logo. I had forgotten that fact when I added it to my own book cover - - my good friend pointed it out, and yes, I had to giggle just a little bit. Naughty, I know, but it was a bit humourous as well...damn, I used the extra "u" just then, didn't I? Wow. 

    So yeah, scones and curd, High Tea with Earl Grey, and may many many more days of this sort of foolery be seen and had by myself and all of the other Stringfellows near and around the borders. We deserve to be a bit ritz at times; we deserve to show a bit of class, a touch of the culinary, and to practice our good manners when possible. Just don't take us too seriously, and by all means, never ever assume we are always British - - no, no, that would not be a good thing. From time to time maybe, but the blood in my veins runs closer to the blue field, white cross, than it does the Union Jack. If I had to be completely honest about it, I'd probably have asked God if I could go back in time a wee bit earlier than I came upon the Earth so that I could have been born in the land of Heather myself, but I do enjoy the modern conveniences of toilet paper, air conditioning, and indoor plumbing. I wasn't cut out for roughing it - - I prefer High Tea to that. 

    

Horseless - For Now

 The day has arrived when I am no longer a horse owner. It's been about a minute now, but I have decided to give up owning horses since I will move to Scotland on a more permanent basis. I can't really see myself paying board for an animal I don't ride, and I don't (at this time) own my own property to keep a horse on, so the prudent, mature, responsible, and overtly logical thing to do was to in fact sell the horse. My last horse was a Missouri Fox Trotter mare named Ava. She was, as many of my animals have been, a rescue from a kill pen here in the state of Oklahoma.  

    My daughter and I have rescued horses (and dogs, cats, pigs, goats, guineas and more) for all of her life, and that timeline bleeds into my own mother's life as well, we are and have always been rescuers.  It makes sense, and it helps the world at large even if it's just a small act of love. Ava was sold to an amazing little girl who at the age of 11, had saved up enough money to not only buy a horse, but to pay for transport, which is an enormous feat for a youngster! I was so very proud to say my last horse (for now) was going to the best home. It's always good when that happens.  Ava was too thin when I rescued her, and she came to me with a baby mule Jenny on her side - - the mule was healthy enough, but it was obvious that the mare had given her all to keep the baby going. 

    Believe me when I say that owning horses is nothing like owning other animals. With dogs and cats you may be able to get away without feeding them on a regular basis, you can literally leave town and expect a friend or family member to drop by and take care of them, but things don't usually work out that way when you own a horse. For starters, horses really don't care if you're sick, have to work later than usual, or if you have no way to come out to feed them - - they want to be fed. Those idiots who allow their animals to graze all day on grass and think that's good enough are in my opinion, not good horse people. In fact, there are so many not-good horse people in the world that I typically say the best thing about horse people is their dogs, and I mean that.  Horse people are the biggest losers on the planet in some cases, and I'm not afraid to say it - - why am I not afraid to say it? I've lived with them, fought with them, observed them, argued with them, called the sheriff on them, and yeah, they don't scare me, I rode a mare. If you're not a horse person you may not understand that last one, but it's true.

    Horses are rather blunt creatures. When they are introduced to each other there is a short time period when they start and go through their natural pecking order immediately. The boss mare steps up, all other horses step to the side to allow her leeway, and the new horse(s) is either accepted or chased off. The new horse, and it doesn't matter what his or her status was before stepping into this pasture, will by nature either accept their new submissive position or face a brutal battle trying to one-up the established Boss Mare. It is what it is, and that's the #1 reason I usually chose to ride a gelding. Geldings cuddle, they want your attention, they seek your affection, and they want to please you. A mare, boss or not, usually has her agenda, and if you don't fit into her schedule that day you may not be riding. It is what it is, which is again, the reason I usually chose to ride a gelding. 

    Stallions are another story altogether, and don't even get me started, you can either establish your dominance in the beginning with the animal, or be controlled by him.  If you know me, you know I carry a crop whip for a reason.  If I am in the pasture with a stallion I carry a crop - - most stallions lack a few brain cells and need to be reminded to stand down. Again, another reason I usually chose to ride a gelding - - no crop needed. I can use that hand to hold my coffee. 

    Selling Ava made sense too; it was the one thing I needed to do before making the final decision to make the move to Scotland.  Placing her in a good home was paramount, and deciding only to help rescue but not take another animal home with me is and was harder than I thought it would be. I rode almost every single day; even when I was heavier. I think I thought riding would help me to lose weight, but it didn't. I was just a casual rider, and I realized last summer that I was still riding as if I was thinner and at some point reality as well as physics set in and I was finding myself thudding the ground a few more times that I really wanted to.  

    I began losing weight, and didn't ride nearly as much as  I had before due to the fact that my body was lying to my brain and I couldn't (or wouldn't) chance being injured to the point that I couldn't sit up and write the book I had to get written, published, promoted, and distributed. This self-publishing gig is tough - - but it doesn't scare me, you guessed it, I rode a mare. If you can say that, you can do just about anything - - she's a chestnut mare too, and again, if you're not a horse person that may not make a lick of sense.

    Going horseless is not an easy thing to do for someone who is as horsey as I am. I think about them, work with them, pay out money for them, drag myself and my daughter all over the state to pick one up before it's shipped to slaughter, and if we're not doing that we're at the barn feeding, watering, bathing, training, working, and otherwise just being with other people's horses.  I could say I understand how an addict feels when they're pulled off the stuff to dry out except I've not really pulled myself out of the barn completely - - I go now just to smell the place; if you aren't a horse person the smell of horse sweat and wet manure may not be the scent you'd prefer in a Yankee candle; but it for me. I would by a dozen of their largest sized candles and keep them burning year round if they made them -- so instead, since I don't have the option of the candle, I have my saddle in my living room sitting on a dirty saddle pad or two; and it seems to help - - some.  That, and I have the crop whip to remind me that there may be some day it could come in handy - - I'll take it with me to Scotland. We'll see who or what I find to use it on there. (They have horses there too, right?)

Foo Foo in The Kitchen

 JUST NOW, I was insulted by a close and personal friend who happens to live in Scotland.  He was laughing of course when he said it, but he was trying desperately to compliment my cooking skills without giving me an actual compliment. He said it was a Scottish thing to do. You can't apparently give an actual compliment; it's not done.  He knows I was trained by soon-to-be gourmet students at the Platt Culinary Cooking Institute (or whatever they are calling it now, that was in 2003 I think); and he was trying so hard to be sweet as basil, and sting like cayenne pepper at the same time.  He failed. I was not insulted by what he called me.  He failed so badly, that I had the pleasure of speaking to his wife for the next 13 minutes explaining to her exactly how to prepare a batch of sweet potatoes with both basil and cayenne pepper. I personally used cinnamon on mine, but he and his sweetie prefer a little southwest kick for their palettes.  Cayenne it is!

    As a General Ed teacher at the culinary school, it was my job and privilege to teach the chefs-to-be how to spell "culinary" and use proper grammar when writing about their experiences in the kitchen.  Upon thinking about such experiences one may or may not have in the kitchen, one of my students ventured into the world of erotic taste-testing for his essay, hoping for an extra credit assignment.  He never asked me if the essay I had assigned actually had literary boundaries. Until he turned in his paper, I had no idea someone may actually need to ask that question - - I decided to not be a prude about it, and because he was trying very hard to come up with new and adventurous adjectives to describe said kitchen-rompery. 

    I accepted his all but overtly sexual prose involving pineapples, warm butter, honey, and yes, root vegetables.  I had NO IDEA at the beginning or middle of the essay that the man was talking about how to prepare a Polynesian recipe for sweet potatoes -- believe me when I say I got lost somewhere between the sheer joy of heating up the pans slowly and purposefully, and rolling the firm, freshly hand-washed tubers in firm butter until the butter melted. Experimenting in the kitchen was obviously something I was in dire need of trying myself, even if I was going to be going it alone for a while. It's not always wise to have too many cooks in the kitchen, things could get really messy really fast.  

    My students assured me that their experiences in the kitchen were mostly bland, mostly mundane, mostly methodical, mostly even boring from time to time, mechanical even, but when it was time to be exciting they knew how to pour on the gravy - - so to speak. I absolutely loved reading this particular essay explaining to me how it was that the sweet basil kept the cayenne pepper at bay long enough for the pineapple to soak into the taste buds and usher in such a fantastic union and fusion of flavor, that no two bites would be exactly the same. I was instructed through the prose to not only try it myself, but to try it with friends, try it with family, try it with strangers if they wanted to be completely shocked, and I wanted to see their faces when they simply take that first bite of impassioned, satisfying, edible delight -- nothing says "Take me into your mouth like pineapple" is the one line I will never forget from Brendon's essay -- I use that line from time to time in my dreams! He also told me once that "Imagination equals creation, and creation equals sensation".  OK, I gave the guy an "A" for the paper; not gonna lie about it.

    Today, oh so many years later,  I am still being a bit foo-foo in my own kitchen, and even if the kitchen is the only place in my house (currently) getting any really raw and appetizing action, I can at least report that my sweet potatoes bring the folks around when I leave the windows open and let the summer breeze cast its allure through the humid air between our apartments.  Today, I had a kind and thoughtful elderly woman (neighbor) ask me to bring her a bit of whatever it was she was smelling coming from my house - - of course I did. How do you say no to such a request? Her smile was enough to warm my gut for weeks to come. I love my people. I'll miss them when I move, and I've missed many of them as they've slipped away to see Jesus over the many many years I've lived and learned where I live. The kitchen here, may only be the size of a round of cheesecake, but if it's cheesecake you desire, I am the one to call on for assistance. I have a lemon-raspberry glaze that will make you - - smile.

    I may be a foo foo, and I may enjoy my spice rack a bit more than others enjoy theirs, but I do know a thing or two about raising expectations while patiently waiting for things to heat up and simmer slowly yet long enough to make a full bodied and pleasurable experience for the mouth. I also know that a good meal is good for the soul as well as for the body.  I can't call myself a gourmet, as I was not fully and professionally trained, but what I learned on the fly, and through private lessons from some of these now exquisite chef-for-real when they were learning the ropes, can take me pretty far in terms of my good friends raising an eyebrow, puckering up a little, and making that face you hope to see them making after just one bite.  I'll take "foo foo" as a title any day - - and most nights in my dreams. That's right, I cook in my dreams too - - and yeah, I may bring a little pineapple to the forefront of my mind when I do.  (Imagination = creation = sensation)

Photo credit: Jude Stringfellow

If I Die, it Was the Pills

 I have an entire upper (over the stove) cabinet space devoted to just vitamins and supplements. I don't really need all of them, but there must have been a time that I thought I did. I basically use a supplement for a while to see if I see or feel any changes, and if I don't I don't buy it again, but that's not to say that I actually get around to throwing the unused portion in the trash. I decided I needed to do that today, and yes, I have more space now for more vitamins and supplements that I really will use, and it still seems to be taking up most of the upper cabinet -- but it's all good, I'm healthy and I love gummies so there you go. You found my weakness; or rather, one of my weaknesses.

     I have three weaknesses that I know of.  Let's see if you knew what they were/are.  (1) gummies, obviously, I like them.  Big fan of adult vitamins being produced in gummie form, I remember complaining about it for years while I took two or three times the recommended youth dosage of anything gummie so I could get my adult quota and still have my gummies! Don't judge me. I'm not shooting heroine! I'm popping gummies. My (2) vice or weakness would be a stray dog. It doesn't matter where I am, what I'm doing, who I am with, what the mission may be, if a stray dog turns up the world stops and the dog is saved. Don't argue, it would be futile. OK, for number (3) do you know? Can you surmise?  (Think Naked Bearded Man coming to life and wearing a kilt) That's right!! My 3rd (and probably most powerful) vice is a handsome, round, bearded man wearing a kilt - - if he's standing there AND playing a guitar while speaking in a Scottish accent - - do not wake me. If I am awake, do not disturb me, I will thank you to step out and close the door - - I'll be OK; we will be OK.  

    Today was the supplement round up day. On this day I go through the cabinet (usually once a year) and I throw out anything I've not used or taken in about that same amount of time, and if it looks or smells weird, it warrants hitting the trash bin.  I counted 32 bottles today and they rattle off with such names as: Papaya Enzyme (gotta have it, love those), Green Tea extract (Oh yes), Probiotics are another story, there are six different bottles in the cabinet so I came to a conclusion as to which was best and chunked the others. There are bottles of Turmeric, Cinnamon capsules, Cayenne Pepper pills, which do the same thing a Cinnamon capsule does, and with less heart burn - - good bye Cayenne Pepper!  I have bottles of Biotin, B6, B12, and a B6/B12 complex - - GONE... they make GUMMIES for that!

    I found bottles of C10 for heart, Glucosamine for joints, Flaxseed pills, Blackseed pills, Elderberry, Beet Root, and another fish oil pill -- OK, this was going to be tough because yes, they make gummies for Elderberry, but not the others. I chunked the fish oil, kept the rest, and swore up and down I would rotate using the Beet Root and the Blackseed on a A/B day system. We'll see if that works.  I did today, just today, receive in the mail, my three bottles of poopy-pills which will take over my big bottle of Psyllium Husk because one of the bottles has pills in it that have Psyllium Husk as one of it's main ingredients. I'll put the other back in the back for backup...never throw out good poopy pills. Never. So the three bottles that came in today are: (1) Senna, Cascara, Psyllium Husk (2) Milk Thistle, (3) Slippery Elm (doesn't Slippery Elm just make you wanna giggle a bit? Why am I taking something that sounds like a slimy tree? God knows) Anyway - - the three pills combined are supposed to clean my whistle - - we'll see. If I die I die, but I will be one cleaned out corpse. The funeral director will say so, I know he/she will, and they'll talk about it my service.

    What else did I find in the cabinet? Oh, the standard vitamins: A, C, D, K, and Zinc. I do take all of them on a daily so there's no way they're going anywhere -- K isn't off the chart great, but it's a thang, so I keep it.  Never know when you'll need your blood to clot correctly.  So far, so good on the blood clotting, never have had an issue, so maybe the K is working.  Maybe I'll just keep that. Oh, and there is a thing (rather new to me) called Ashwagandha KSM66 that is claiming to help with anxiety and stress -- which I don't have; I just don't have either, but I'm taking the Ashwagandha KSM66 to be sure I don't ever get it - - I know that sounds completely nuts, but it seems to work well with keeping me from cussing people out to their face too; the producers of the supplement may consider adding that benefit and/or feature to their advertising - - you're welcome.

    Since I don't actually take drugs other than say 81 mg of Aspirin every day (again for the heart) I don't have many pills up in the cabinet for pain and suffering.  I do have a bottle of Ibuprofen and another one of Naproxen Sodium for when I work out and my hip decides to remind me that it's the only old part of my body - - don't know how it happened unless I count the times I've fallen from my horse, from a beam, uneven bars, the roof of a barn - - maybe from chasing boys. I do have those. I have a bottle of Blue Star ointment that probably needs to hit the bin, but I know as soon as I do I'll need it - - there's that. For the most part I'm just a supplement and vitamin taking machine. I know when to take them 3x a day, what to take, and if they actually work -- at least I think I do. I may be fooling myself and could have an empty cabinet tomorrow; but I love the Papaya Enzyme.  Gonna keep it for sure...and the Green Tea, and yeah, all the gummies are staying. There's that.

Photo credit:  Swansonsvitamins.com 

My Jesus - A Poem

 My Jesus 

 

Grace, grace, God’s grace 

Grace I don’t deserve 

I peer upon the King’s face 

And to know I’m heard 

 

I come to God’s throne 

With bended knee so low 

I can know He’ll always 

Welcome me back Home. 

 

Faith, faith, God’s faith 

Faith abundant, free 

Held within my heart’s heart 

I know that He loves me 

 

Never will I understand  

The price He paid that day 

Why a King would leave His throne 

To end up in the grave. 

 

Erupting from the grips of death 

To put it all to rest 

No other name lives on and on 

The King, my King, Jesus. 

 

Praise, praise, God’s praise 

Blessings I will sing 

Endless days of singing 

Endless love He gave 

 

Jude Stringfellow 

June 5, 2021 

Photo: Simon Dewey artist

Lunch with HoHo The Clown - - Someday Soon!

 Anyone living in Oklahoma from 1958 to 1988 would remember the antics, good natured humor, and gracious smile of our beloved Ho-Ho the Clown.  He was a fixture, and in our family, he was a friend. Ed Birchall was the man behind the makeup, and though I saw him probably as many times without his big red clown nose and goofy smile, as I did with it, he was always "Ho-Ho" never Mr. Birchall. I don't know anyone who called him Mr. Birchall.  Ho-Ho was more than just a silly character created for the kids to see and learn from on television; he visited churches, schools, hospitals, anywhere he could go in order to spread the word of God and minister to those who were in such great need of a spiritual lifting -- and good humor of course.  Today's clowns have nothing on Ho-Ho; he was and is the King of Clowns in my opinion. I absolutely miss him.

    Back in the late 60's and early 70's I remember Ho-Ho coming to our VBS (which stands for Vacation Bible School if you're not in the know!)  Baptists, and I suppose other denominations of churches, host weekly spiritual church camps at their churches every summer, and from either 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. or perhaps 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. at night, which happened after moms went to work, you could see and catch hundreds of bratty brats dressed in play clothes on the lawns of the churches drinking grape Kool-Aid and eating generic brand sandwich cookies.  Honestly, to buy actual brand named Oreos cookies would have been out of the budget! My mom volunteered each year to help fix the snacks, teach the kids, sing songs, and be around the church to help others when necessary -- this is the environment I was raised in, and this was the place we could (every year without worrying about it) see Ho-Ho the Clown in PERSON!

    Ed Birchall dressed, "slapped on his face" as he would say, and he drove down the streets of Oklahoma City to all the different churches to perform a little demonstration about lying and truth telling. He had a marvelous demonstration prepared, that when he showed it to you once you understood it for the rest of your life, but you didn't mind if he showed it to you every year, year after year, and every time he showed it you knew the answer but you listened anyway. He was telling you the truth about lying.  Each time he performed the "experiment" or demonstration, he would ask the kids if the had ever told a lie. There wasn't a single time (not once) that any kid ever said they hadn't. We knew. We all knew. We all lied. He knew it too, and he said to us "Well, believe it or not, there have been times when Ho-Ho has lied too; and it's not nice, is it?"  We would dutifully shake our heads, and in some cases we would even lower our faces - knowing we were needing to talk to someone about something right that minute before he went on with his little speech. We knew.

    Well, Ho-Ho would produce a glass container full of ice cold water that he claimed he had just gotten from the kitchen of our very church.  I believe Ed was a Catholic man, but he didn't mind drinking Baptist water from time to time; and he'd take a little drinking glass, pour some of the water out of the container and then take a long slow cool drink - - proving to us that the water was fine! Next he would talk about how truth is good, it cleanses us, it keeps us healthy, it works to help us have a better relationship with others, and that included our relationship with God.  We could always benefit from telling the truth.  He would say that the ice cold wonderful water represented, in this case, TRUTH. 

    Next Ho-Ho pulled out a vile of black ink from his pocket and showed it to us. He said, "this is ink. You use it to write with, you can use it to dye things, but mostly these days it's used to fill up ball point pens and since they have machines to do that, the one I have in my pocket will do another job. It will represent a lie. Just one little vile full of so many lies. That's why it's so black - - lies are dark. Lies aren't to be taken or said lightly, they are deep, dense, thick, and even the little ones are 100% lies, there is no 50% lie, no light lie, no white lie, just lies." He would ask us if we understood.  We did. 

    Ho-Ho then opened the little tiny ink bottle that was only about an inch tall, and he showed us the dropper on the inside of the cap.  He took one drop - - just one, and he put it into the big, tall, container of good, clean, pure, ice water - - TRUTH.  He tainted truth.  He did it deliberately, and he did it with intention. He even told us that he was purposely putting the ink into the water and explained that when we tell a lie we aren't doing it by mistake. We are voluntarily, on purpose, intentionally, with the design of knowing what we are doing - - we understood.  What Ho-Ho did next was amazing.  It was timed, it was calculated, and though we had seen this demonstration before, we still reacted.  About the time he was finishing the demonstration a woman or a man would come into the theatre where we were seated, and wave at us kids, the person would turn to Ho-Ho and say "Say Ho-Ho, is that water? Can I have a drink of it?"  Ho-Ho would turn to us and ask us - - what do you think? Should I pour a cup?

    Without hesitation, without even thinking about it - - every last one of us kids screamed "NO! NO!" with compassion, with powerful conviction in our souls we didn't want that man or woman to take a chance of being poisoned. How can I say this without really upsetting a few of you? How can I say this without making someone "uncomfortable"; let me say it this way -- when you lie about another person you are literally giving the person you lied to (not the one you lied about) a drink of poisoned water - - water you just tainted. Water you just inked. Water you knew was purposely compromised.  The person you lied about may never know you lied about them - - they may find out; but you poisoned a friend when you handed them the glass allowing them to drink your lie.  

    When Ed Birchall passed away in July of 1988 I remember I cried. I remember my friends sitting so close to me at VBS, holding hands praying that we would do our best to never lie again - - Ho-Ho didn't pass away, Ed Birchall passed away - - Ho-Ho is with us. He's always with us, and I will never forget this lesson as long as I live; I try so hard not to purposely poison my friends (or anyone else) and I think about the day I'll have lunch with Ho-Ho the Clown again; I bet he looks a lot more like a very young and healthy Ed than he does an aging gray haired bright-eyed, red-nosed clown, but you know what, that's OK. I think Heaven has enough humor in it to allow a slapping on of a face now and again - - and I'll laugh the same (if not harder) with every joke, every tease, every smile, every wink - - of my friend.

THANK YOU friend, thank you for a life time lesson that I can share. 

Photo: OAB 1988