Joy to the World

If men are, that they might have joy...

...then Joy to the World should be a year-round favorite song!

Actually, it is...did you know that Joy to the World  not originally written as a Christmas Carol?

It was written in 1719 by Isaac Watts to herald the coming of Christ as a resurrected Savior of the world, not as a babe in a manger. And yet, it has become one of the most loved and performed Christmas Carols of our time. I love this song!

I remember singing it at the 1st Lutheran Church in Upland, California. I also remember singing it at the Lutheran Church of the Cross in Upland, California. My Mom played the organ in both of these churches and I remember her adding so much life to the song - it was fun to sing and a celebration in music as she led us all  through her amazing talent.

I remember singing this song in Rim Forest and Lake Arrowhead, at the Lake Arrowhead Ward meetings first held in the transformed mechanics shop on the Rim and then in the beautiful new chapel on the north shore.

I remember singing it with my family when we caroled through our neighborhood in Salt Lake City. I remember singing it as a youth on the back of a sleigh bundled in blankets and snuggled with friends for warmth.

I remember singing in Yucaipa, CA and Cle Elum, Washington. And now I will sing it in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

But mostly, I remember my Mom playing this on our piano at home, every year. I miss her and I love this song.

Joy to the World , the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare Him room,

And Heaven and nature sing,

And Heaven and nature sing,

And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing.

 

Joy to the World, the Savior reigns!

Let men their songs employ;

While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding joy,

Repeat the sounding joy,

Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found,

Far as the curse is found,

Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness,

And wonders of His love,

And wonders of His love,

And wonders, wonders, of His love.

Since we are, that we might have joy - this song should be our alma mater, all year round.

But for now, just en - joy the season!

Mannheim Steamroller "Joy to the World"

Faith Hill "Joy to the World"

Freedom is Our Destiny

I am a Mom.  I am fighting for freedom. Who would have ever thought it would be necessary?

Not that fighting to protect our freedoms hasn't always been necessary, but we haven't typically needed to protect our freedoms from our President.

You have to wonder why we are sending young men overseas in an effort to protect freedom, but watching it disintegrate at home. Does he think we won't notice? Does he not notice the young men who are returning in coffins?

It's a new world, and I am a Mom, and a Grandma, and I am linking arms and fighting for freedom. Wake up, America and join the fight.

http://baugh-humbug.blogspot.com/2009/10/when-loonies-get-confused.html (I blogged)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/dismantling-america (I replied)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/blands-time-wasnt-so-bland (I blogged)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/analysis-shows-amtrak-lost-32 (I replied)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/new-mexicos-output-gap (I replied)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/tune-in-to-fox-news (I blogged)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/obamas-reverse-robin-hood (I replied)

http://www.newmexicoliberty.com/forum/topics/the-new-math-of-nonpartisan (I blogged)

Grab a computer and join in...

Or grab a table, link arms and climb on...no time for dancing, but loons are welcome!

Freedom - it's our destiny. And it's our children and grandchildren's destiny too.


Robert Miles "Freedom"

Burnt Eggs and Lemonade

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"...so goes the age-old saying. (my Mom made the best lemonade I have ever had - from scratch, with just the right amount of sugar - I can still remember how it tasted. Mmmmm).

"There's nothing worse than burnt eggs"....so goes a favorite quote from my Mom. She probably never imagined that her daughter might someday burn hard boiled eggs. I think she was thinking more along the lines of scrambled or fried eggs. But I managed to burn hardboiled eggs last week.

Yes, that's what I said. I burned hardboiled eggs. It's taken me a week to hone in on the fact that I really did burn hardboiled eggs and just as long to own up to it.

It takes talent to burn hardboiled eggs. Not a lot of focus, however.

I seem to have a knack for letting things simmer too long. I draw things out long beyond their natural, healthy lifetime.

Diets come to mind. I have been on a diet for 17 years, and look where it's gotten me. Nowhere. It's not that hard, when you think about it. Eat less, move more. Turn on healthy foods, turn off unhealthy foods.

Relationships are another thought. I seem to be able to nurse a bad relationship along for much longer than is healthy, for all involved. I can hang in there, I can give second chances, I can recreate myself, I can comply, I can rebel, I can turn things on, I can settle. So, what is it that prevents me from turning things off? This could be a question for the eternities. Longsuffering? Patience? Bullheadedness? The inability to admit failure? A refusal to change? The fact that I am a redhead? Never giving up? Carelessness? Enduring to the end? A combination of all of the forementioned?

Oh. Wait.

And then there are eggs. Hardboiled eggs. It should be fairly simple. Water, pan, raw eggs. Turn on heat, turn off heat. I, however, seem to have forgotten that last critical step.

Somehow diets, relationships and hardboiled eggs will forever be linked in my mind. I can't seem to turn things off in a timely fashion. I linger. I procrastinate. I hope. I wait. I dream.

And then I burn the eggs.

Which brings me to lemonade. The universally liked drink. Refreshing. Full of vitamins. Almost youth-enducing. The drink that makes any day feel like summer and creates a slight breeze effect in your minds eye. I like mine sweet, but not too sweet.

I am so glad that I like lemonade. I can drink it forever. I don't ever have to turn it off. It doesn't burn. It doesn't hurt my feelings. It doesn't make me wonder who I really am. It's just lemonade.

I can drink lemonade to regroup. I can hope and wait and dream....and drink lemonade.

Mom, baseball and apple pie? Well, yeah, that's American red/white/blue jargon, but come on.

Mom, lemonade and a camp chair beneath the huge tree in our backyard on 18th Street - circa 1960. Now we're talkin. Simple, carefree, sunkissed blissful, innocent days...with a slight breeze.

Those are my memories. What a simple and good life that was. Of course, I was 6 and rather unencumbered by relationships, a need to diet or cooking issues. And I still had my Mom - and pancakes with apple sauce and sun-brewed iced tea, and lemonade.

I will probably burn more eggs in my lifetime and drag things out longer than I should (my blog posts are probably a good example of that), but more importantly, I will always make certain to take some time to stop in the middle of life's chaos to sip a tall glass of lemonade, and appreciate my family, my friends and my good decisions.

I love lemonade. I love life. I still love to sit under huge trees. And I will always wait for that slight breeze to renew my faith in humanity and in myself.

Thanks Mom.

Bob Hope "Thanks for the Memories"

Mommy, I sick, I tie-red, I hung-gey.

Kids. You try to get them to sleep enough, eat right, exercise, be smart about exposing themselves to germs, wash their hands, and not do too much.

But, as we all know, kids will be kids, even when they are really BIG kids. Like...almost 24 and living in Washington DC on their own, or kids in far away countries, or in Utah.

Today I had a voice mail from my youngest son, Kyle. It went something like this, (think - sickly voice) "Hi Mom, this is Kyle. Happy Memorial Day. I had to go to Urgent Care today, but I am not going to die. Bye."

Hmmm.

I called, and yes, Kyle was sick and I heard all about it. (Erin was sick too, but I didn't hear as much about that). It sounded like a rough week. I loved talking to him and enjoyed listening to his tales of woe. He finally went to Urgent Care after over a week of misery. He told me it felt like when he was so sick at school and cried because he felt so bad as the nurse called me to pick him up.

This time, rather than picking him up and bringing him home, I gave him the motherly talk over the phone about being more careful, heading to the doctor sooner (not that I practice any of this), drinking fluids and resting. Mostly, I was glad that somewhere in that grown up psyche was a lingering memory that little boys want their Mom's when they are sick.

I am glad he is better.

This call reminded me of a call I received several years ago from my middle daughter, Kelly. She was in her first year at college, in Utah. I lived in Washington state. One day I received a call from her - (imagine - sickly voice) "Mom, I am sick. I can't even get out of bed. Could you please bring me a glass of water?" (Being a Mom means being creative and so I called my older daughter Karynn who lived in the same town and asked her to please check on Kelly - and take her a glass of water. She did. :) )

And then, just recently, when Kalen "Skyped" (is that a new verb?) me from Brazil, complaining (imagine - yep, sickly voice) of a sore throat and white dots. She, without hesitation, opened her mouth as wide as she could and leaned nearer to the camera, upon which I grabbed my handy dandy mini-flashlight and (pretended) to shine it into her mouth, pointing it at the computer screen. :) See picture above for verification of mutual insanity.

Sometimes Moms just have to play along, no matter how absurd.

And kids. Ya gotta love em. If not, who would they call when they are sick?

Julie Andrews "A Spoonful of Sugar"/Mary Poppins