Why do you praise walk, mommy?

I asked the same questions of the mothers in the church, when I was a young girl following them around the church at 6 am prayer. Mother, why are we walking around the church in prayer? Why are we clapping our hands? Why do we dance in the spirit? Girl, we are taking authority over our sloth and over the devil; was essentially the theological answer, in translation. I can't remember verbatum the words that were told to me. I just remember that my conscience was carried that this was a spiritual exercise and continued it.
Today, my Enoch followed me in my early aerobic prayer and praise and I answered his silent question; with the reminder of the mothers in the church who raised me on the word of God pablum. God comforts my soul. Grandma Ruth used to say "a rolling stone gathers no moss." One of her cliche's that meant get up and do something already. Praise walking is more than a rolling stone. It is a moving body worshipping God in the beauty of holiness for the life's breath that is lent and for salvation of the soul, which came at the most extreme sacrifice of the life's blood of the only Lamb of God which was a suitable sacrifice. That is why we praise Him exuberantly, son!

Prayer Warrior Ben!

The men are gathering and my "Manned" of God is armed for the spiritual warfare and out there in the throng of spiritual battle against the forces of evil that threaten our lives and spirits. Thank God, even though I may be late for work as a result :) Hopefully not!

Full tummies don't play well!

I wasn't playing my best today mom, stated Enoch. I really hadn't noticed, because the level of difference between us makes me blind to the better days and the good days. He can hit a rally with me and that is enjoyable to me and we are usually having a good time. This time he was comparing himself to some real "players" gentleman who were socking the ball again and again. It challenged him and I was very glad that it did. He was tying his shoes again and again and hit the ball way out of the courts a couple of times.
I ate too much, he said and I really shouldn't have eaten before I came out here. I am glad to hear that word from a growing boy, who holds his own in emptying the fridge, regularly. Next time, I won't eat before I come out and maybe I will play better. With Enoch, I am not sure if that meant that he was tired when he was playing or if it means that he didn't have a good time because he wasn't as good as the other boys. I will have to wait and see with him about that.

Election Year remembrances...

Why do we listen to the election news and the speeches? Why do we participate in the process of elimination of the election process. The government of the people, by the people and for the people. Getting to know what is important to the other people on the planet at the same time as we are is what the election process is all about. People from all over the country have opinions about who to vote for. This is good men people doing something...God bless America!

Lactical Errors?

Night feedings and night sweats, baby hands and baby feet, there are so many parts of the growing process that are painful and yet beautiful. We cry because every part of our body is engaged into the process of bringing and growing life. There seems to be nothing else left and then they wean and we are left. A sense of uselessness abides for awhile, until the next mission is envisioned and undertaken. God's will and our wills collide and we are taken up into the process of life. Amen!

The sun was setting and the cool of the day

was comforting and delightful. The clouds were swirling around in the sky like ponies and animals on a carousel. The colors were grey and purple and going into black. The neon lights on the tennis courts were invigorating, reminscent of the first time I had spent an evening playing under the lights. Then, I was the 14 year old and in some kind of tourney. I remember my eyes adjusting to the artificial lights the glare of the ball on the lobs and the blind spots every so often where the ball passes a spot where your eyes can barely see it. The lights are beautiful and I am reminiscing again, but this is today and the handsome prince on the other side of the net is my Enoch. He is hitting better and better. I can't remember a better time that I have had under the lights. I must have won and lost 100 matches under the lights and win or lose there is no better feeling than hitting with my children on the courts. The children know that the courts are my living room and the lights bring out an interesting combination of remembrances. From tourneys at the armory to the bubbles at Alley Pond or Cunningham or just outdoors under the lights at Rochdale. I love that feeling of partial vision hitting. Its not the lights its the feeling of limited, vision. I turned around and one of the cloud ponies seemed to wink at me... almost?

It was raining cats and dogs

when we left church last night. Lightning and thunder and still no hail like we had a few months ago. I am very grateful for the rain. A small sickness is making its rounds in the house. Sniffles and crankiness and soreness, Not a pretty picture at all. It is soup time. This is the time of year when I take out my vegetables and throw them in the pot and make the healing brew that gets us out and about our business. We'll see...