What Gets Me

I am sick of seeing softly pink-hued garbage bags, coffee mugs, stickers, shirts, flags, hats, backpacks, gloves, scarves, picture frames and pencils. I know who makes them, and I know they promote a lie. My problem is Susan G. Komen and her foundation built on exploitation. I do not lack compassion or concern for breast cancer patients. My complaint is not with them. My complaint is with Susan G. Komen and many doctors and industries obtaining money and making it look like they really care enough to help people. They have a huge audience because...breast cancer is the leading cancer in women, and also because breast cancer is the leading cancer in women. What I mean by that is, yes, it has a audience just because of the sheer number of breast cancer patients but also simply BECAUSE it is women suffering. It seems to be one of those untouchable topics, especially for men, and is a campaign endorsed by the feminists.

Susan G Komen's slogan is, Race for the Cure. Really? I guess maybe that's true. She is trying to find a cure...A cure that gets around the enormous link abortion and contraceptives have to breast cancer. Have you ever wondered why in the world suddenly everyone knows someone who has had breast cancer? Why did this epidemic emerge from seemingly no where? Well...believe it or not it has risen with the increase in abortion and the use of contraceptives especially before the first child.

I refuse to give to an organization which promotes killing the innocent. Between 2003 – 2008 Susan G. Komen gave over $3 million to Planned Parenthood, the leading provider of abortion in the United States. Does it really make any sense to give money to an organization who will in turn give it to another that not only ends the life of millions of babies, but in doing so is raising the risk of the very thing we are trying to prevent? SGK is all about preventatives and being aware...why don't they prevent abortion? Why don't they tell women about the effects abortion will have and how much higher their risks of breast cancer will be as result?

The truth is, they have an agenda. They really want to provide a way for people to live exactly as they wish without consequence. But this utopia cannot be formed. It breaks all that God has set in order for us. Since the beginning of time sin has been punished. Lucifer sinned and fell from heaven. Eve was deceived as well as Adam and the gate to the beautiful garden was forever fastened. The consequences of sin are for our betterment – and in the end, it is for God's plan and design for us and His glory. God created us the way we are for a reason and when we act against that design we destroy ourselves.

Countless companies are helping sponsor SGK - so before you give your money to them, please consider whose till it will really end up in.

http://www.wnd.com/index.php?pageId=134729

http://www.abortionbreastcancer.com/

http://www.bdfund.org/breastcancer.asp

http://ww5.komen.org/ResearchGrants/CommunitybasedGrants.html

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.

Life is a beauty, admire it.
Life is bliss, taste it.
Life is a dream, realise it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is costly, care for it.
Life is wealth, keep it.
Life is love, enjoy it.
Life is mystery, know it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it!

-Mother Teresa

From the Peanut Gallery

Talitha (4): I'm fat

Esther (7): No you're not!

T (offended): Yes I am!

E: You're as skinny as a bell

T: I'm fat!

E: Not-ah. Your bones ache out

Mom: Jut out!

Drat That Tomato.

Drat that tomato. You know, the one I joked about in the beginning…only it was supposed to happen to you, not me. Remember earlier when the wedding party was just arriving and we were traying up the salads with those adorable cherry tomatoes that like to roll their chubby selves all around? Yes, I was being my typical contained self and warning you that if one went rolling you were not to dash after the tomato but keep at the real job of passing out salads. You snapped back that you were well aware on the how to’s of waitressing…I laughed. You laughed.

The head table went great…everything to the right person, no spilling someone’s glass like at the last one. Whew. Being a natural klutz and loving waitressing do not always blend well, especially when it is necessary. Serving 250 people demands a lot…most especially making sure you don’t fall into robot mode but keep a person air of interacting and smiling at all those happy people as you remember a zillion requests and comments.

So there was Lydia, trying her darnedest to do just that. She was stacking salad plates together and having them handed to her from all directions and half of them had those chubby red tomatoes still on them because certain people prefer to watch them roll around their plate, I guess. Why else would you not eat your tomato? For your information, plates don’t happen to stack very neatly when chubby red tomatoes are rolling around on them…so I shifted and squeezed them a bit to ease the perilous situation…squeezed them a little too hard considering they had leftover dressing on them (I love leftovers, especially leftover tomatoes) and fifteen slippery plates shot into the air showering me with Ranch, French and Thousand Island, paralyzing two lovely young girls in white background dresses, and sending me to my knees with a red face…very much like those chubby red tomatoes…wishing I could roll right out of there.

Shaken by this traumatic turn of events I made it disappear as fast as possible receiving several worried cold glasses from the wearers of the lovely white background dresses. Life went on. Carefully I came back to the traumatized table and began clearing their plates, they gave more uneasy glances. I had another stack by the time I was finished and was so uptight the entire stack dared to slip away…the mother of the wearers of those white background dresses, shielded her face and as I hurried away she gasped, “Oh that girl nearly did it again!”. That girl…shot into the back room with water pitchers and in her nervous state of trying to make the world all right drenched her shoes and pant legs while dropping a pitcher. She scowled…cringed…and carried on. Carried on with excellent service, snappy retorts, and a smile of service which forgot all errors.

That Lewis and his profundities...

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one... Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

C.S. Lewis

I sure hope God has a sense of humor. I mean, it's pretty obvious he has a sense of humor - Look at the platypus - clearly a hodgepodge. And the pig with its curly little tail ridiculously out of proportion to its body...and look at man. But if we are laughable it is more because of brains than our bodies.

We, the creation - creation not creator - always trying to haggle deals with God. Convincing ourselves God doesn't see all things and know all things. We are like the thief who is sure he'll get away with his stealing though for umpteen years -thieves are repeatedly caught - but unlike the thief there is no chance we will get off scot-free.

Why do we choose to pretend we can set the rules or that we are least equals with God? Creator - Creation, King - Servant, Master - Pupil...is it because we feel uncomfortable? We should feel a little unnerved! We ought to remember Nebuchadnezzar and his time spent in the fields. I think too often we want to make God our buddy-friend. God is not our buddy and we are not equal to him. This does not mean God is distant and angry, rather, if we maintain a biblical perspective then repeatedly we see God as a father: loving, protecting, guiding, and correcting his wayward children. Whatever example we look at in the bible whether it be Abraham, Moses, David, Paul or any of the disciples, they were who they were because they reverenced God, and because they humbled themselves before Him. And though in the New Testament Christ laid down new commandments never is this concept swayed.

On bended knee we bow before Christ the King, our Maker and Redeemer.

On bended knee we plead of him Mercy and Forgiveness.

That we may rise, Forgiven, Humbled, and Freed.

Passing Through.

Clouds are capable of giving one a pretty odd sensation. I am quite sure that the individual who decided Angels sat on them did not live near elevation, fog, and had never flown.

In addition, the person who came up with that notion was hopelessly off his rocker, for the idea is inanely absurd. Where on earth (literally) did the assumption that angels are silly, charming, and stupid come from anyway? I'm pretty sure I'd be terrified of an Angel making himself known to me.

Clouds. Utterly obscure, constantly changing - more than a woman, fickle though she be.

When above them: elation, peace, wonder. The sun burns brightly on the white sea as it fleets mindless yonder. In this world of in between, this land of space with the only visible things being sun and depth of cloud, I think of Ransom being carried to Venus in Perelandra. But I lack my coffin of transportation, my mission from Oyarsa, and Professor Weston to defeat. This abyss holds an odd sense of security.

Sinking through them, surrounded, wondering what is East and West, momentarily holding oxygen flow until the claustrophobic atmosphere evaporates and reveals the interesting palate of objects and colors. The magic whispers my name but it is only in teasing mockery for it is gone, gone, gone. It is ungraspable.

The biosphere comes into focus, blotches become roof tops, seas of fluctuating green - lusty trees, and those shiny moving specks merely modes of transportation.

I liked the passing silvery ocean.

I was drawn to the obscure in between -

But the current view, yes, is where I belong, for the time being.