Teh Squeaky Wheel
Good morning, GN!
Who turned off my Summer?
Not me! Innocent!
We’re getting our fall, sort-of. At least, it’s sticky.
“Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike” Day greetings from Happy Larryville, GN!
Buenas dias, K8-E!
Who turned off my Summer?
Global warming Climate chaos Zionist weather machine It’s late September and the universe is out to spoil your summer fun. 😉
Happy Camel Awareness day, Gerbil Nation!
Good morning, Kate and Fatwa!
Kate -- your summer is right here in SoCal, enjoying a vacation from all the humidity in Georgia.
Hai, Paddy…and heh!
We’re enjoying a sunny early-autumn day here; didn’t have to run the AC at all last night to cool down the upstairs. Iz nice.
So, my Chelsea is going to go in for surgery later this week. I’m stressed!
Fortunately, Mom is flying out tomorrow, so there’s one less thing making me tear my hair.
Hai, Dianna! It’s nice to see you!
I hope the surgery is nothing major and that Chelsea comes through it with flying colors.
We went to see an orthopedic surgeon yesterday and were hopeful it would be routine but it looks like Elena will be needing surgery, and soon. A brief flash of time can sure have lasting impact. It’s arthroscopic surgery so it will be less traumatic them regular surgery and the cost is within reach, it will just take another year or so to catch up. It was not what I call welcome news but I am grateful as it could have been so much worse. I can live with my cataracts for another year or two and our lives will not be greatly effected. We really were lucky.
Paddy, I would just go nuts in your shoes. I do hope you can get something reasonable and don’t have to take too much more of this. I hope your faith is a comfort and a support through this. I wish I could help in some way.
Please tell Elena I’m thinking of her, Machinist.
Thank you, Dianna. At least we can understand why we need this. It is so hard for our furry babies when we can’t explain and ease their fears. I hope it all goes well.
So, for dinner I’m making buttermilk biscuits, chicken-fried steak, and gravy. What I want to know is, when did cube steak get so darn expensive? Fer cryin’ out loud! You’d think I was buyin’ porterhouse at these prices!
Bad idea, kitty. Stay from them coons.
Good luck, Diana, and you guys too, Mac.
Speaking of revenge…
Several months ago, me and Mrs Sven were sitting out back drinking some coffee. Mrs Sven was not feeling well; her ears were ringing quite badly, the result of a beating she took from a boyfriend almost 40 years ago. Not for the first time I said we ought to hunt this guy down and get some payback. Her response was the usual: it was a long time ago and this guy’s life over the intervening 40 years had probably not been all that good, if he were even still alive. Forget about it…
Instead of forgetting about it, I stewed. For some reason, I joked to her that I’d ask God about it and see what He had to say. So Mrs Sven goes back inside, and I casually frame my question to God. “What about it, God. Wouldn’t it be just to track this miserable POS down and teach him a lesson?” Was I expecting a response? No. Did I get one? Yes.
What did I hear inside my head? “Show mercy and forgiveness so that mercy and forgiveness will be shown to you in turn.” It was quite clear; no trumpets, no booming voice, just a casual response as if I had asked the question to a companion sitting next to me. What was also clear was that this was not my own thoughts popping out. You know how you know that voice in your head—you recognize it as you—this was not me speaking or thinking. It felt completely foreign. Was I shaken up? Yeah, a little bit. I talk to God all the time, formally and informally, and part of the deal is that he doesn’t literally talk back. Deal broken.
That was on Saturday, February 15. I went to church the next day, February 16. As is my custom, being new again to the whole Catholic thing, I go in early so I can read through the two readings and the Gospel before the Mass starts and reflect on them before they are read to the whole congregation. I open up the missal, go to the readings for that Sunday, and am surprised to see what’s up for that morning:
Reading 1: LV 19:1-2, 17-18
The LORD said to Moses,
“Speak to the whole Israelite community and tell them:
Be holy, for I, the LORD, your God, am holy.
“You shall not bear hatred for your brother or sister in your heart.
Though you may have to reprove your fellow citizen,
do not incur sin because of him.
Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against any of your people.
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
I am the LORD.”
Ouch. OK, I get it: God kind of hammering his point home. This line though seems to be a modifier: “Though you may have to reprove your fellow citizen, do not incur sin because of him.” What it said to me was I couldn’t go out and hunt this guy down, but if the opportunity presented itself, like if we ran into him somewhere, then I could at least confront him and let things unfold as they will.
The second reading, 1 COR 3:16-23 seems off topic, but OK.
The Gospel though hits home: MT 5:38-48
Jesus said to his disciples:
“You have heard that it was said,
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil.
When someone strikes you on your right cheek,
turn the other one as well.
If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic,
hand over your cloak as well.
Should anyone press you into service for one mile,
go for two miles.
Give to the one who asks of you,
and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.
“You have heard that it was said,
You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.
But I say to you, love your enemies
and pray for those who persecute you,
that you may be children of your heavenly Father,
for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good,
and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.
For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have?
Do not the tax collectors do the same?
And if you greet your brothers only,
what is unusual about that?
Do not the pagans do the same?
So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
Another ouch. A lot higher burden, forgiving this guy—really forgiving him. I think on one hand that I’m lucky—it really isn’t my job to forgive him, that’s Mrs Sven’s and up to her.
So I sit back in the pew and wait for the readings to begin. I’m eagerly anticipating both them and the priest’s sermon, which usually takes its lead from the readings and the Gospel. The first reading starts and it’s not the one I read earlier—it’s something else. Confused, I pick up the missal thinking that maybe there’s been a mistake and the deacon is reading the wrong one, but no she’s right where she’s supposed to be. I ignore what’s going on around me and after a few minutes figure out what’s happened: what I read earlier is what’s on tap for next week.
So maybe that’s an honest mistake, picking up the wrong date and reading the wrong passages, but it’s not one I’ve ever made before. I’m getting old and forgetful but I generally know what the date is. And the passages were tailor-made for what occurred the day before. What I believe is that I was pushed to the wrong pages because that was what I needed to read that day. The whole weekend was odd, frightening in some ways and comforting in others.