tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3518438466858066232024-03-05T05:04:58.801-08:00Kateye's PercolatorKateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-76219070684795303172013-02-18T12:10:00.001-08:002013-02-18T12:10:33.355-08:00What's Discouraging About These Statements?<br />
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I pose this Question Du Jour, at the risk of being a crank [although this minor concern has never stopped me before]. </div>
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Well, first, I will establish the contexts. </div>
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<li>None of these statements originated with me</li>
<li>All belong to the "public domain", by which I mean, none was communicated individually or specifically to me, and all are intended for general consumption</li>
<li>The sources of all three statements represent themselves as speaking from a Christian Perspective which, as should be obvious and is underscored by this post, is an increasingly large and vaguely defined intellectual landscape</li>
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Here they are:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1- "A prayer is a wish turned heavenward";</span> this was observed about an hour ago, on a church "marquee" as I drove through town.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #231f20; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2- "And while I still loved God and followed him, the thrill was gone."</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #231f20; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #231f20; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is a statement from a current online article posted on a website aimed at Christian women. To be fair, the writer does go on to make a helpful observation or two, but the hook and tag line of this copy, summed up in the above quote, gave me pause.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3- "We take the Bible seriously, not literally"</span>; observed on the back of a public transportation system bus, i.e. paid advertising for a local church.</div>
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OK, then. </div>
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I do not sit in judgment on the originators of these statements. I am neither assigned nor equipped for that task, which is reserved for Christ Himself. But Christ-followers are to know Christ and make Him known; if this is no longer the case, I missed the memo.</div>
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I can only conclude that we have woefully lost sight of the priority to think Biblically, and the importance of distinguishing between Biblical thinking and worldly thinking. As has been noted many times before, words mean something.</div>
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1- When did a prayer become a "wish"? Prayer is talking to God. Maybe my interpretation is too narrow, but I associate a wish with a hopeful, if not necessarily serious, roll of the cosmic dice. And, by the way, there aren't any cosmic dice. Not there. Jiminy Cricket musically enjoined Pinocchio to "wish upon a star". A star is not a person and does not communicate with humans...not even the stars set in pavement on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And the entertainment celebrities whose names appear on those stars are no more able to make "wishes" come true than they can ensure themselves Emmys or Oscars.</div>
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And what's going on "heavenward" that would cause one to turn his wishes in that direction? Get real. Heaven is where God is, and the eternal place from whence Jesus came to earth, to which He has returned, and from whence He will come again. It's inhabited. By Someone who doesn't traffic in "wishes." He inexplicably desires authentic relationship with us and has paid an incomprehensible price to make that possible. Equating wishes with conversation between us and our Creator, Redeemer, and Counselor is misleading and disrespectful at best, and actually much more sinister.</div>
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2- I have a long, long, long way to go in my intimacy, obedience, and surrender to God. But I find it confusing and unhelpful to read that a self-identified ministry leader has found, <i>while following God</i> [her words], that "the thrill is gone." We must not be referring to the same "God." Meaning no disrespect to B.B. King's classic ballad, it don't think the thrill can really be gone when it comes to relating with the God of the universe....not if we're clearly keeping in mind Who He is, and who we are. </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm not peevishly
parsing words here...I'm pointing out that, over and over again, we seem to
begin from the wrong side of the relational equation. Too many of us begin
and end with ourselves. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m not sensing
the “thrill” anymore, so what gives?</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I
suggest that it’s a simple matter of losing sight of Who we’re talking
about.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Get our eyes off of
ourselves.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">God sits enthroned above the
circle of the earth [Isaiah 40:22]. This same passage in Isaiah likens us to "grasshoppers" from God's perspective...but He calls us His friends [John 15:15]...what's not thrilling about that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">3- And finally, we may find
ourselves in traffic behind a bus with the provocative but wholly unhelpful
claim that the Bible should be taken “seriously” but not “literally.” Again,
whose lead are we following here? On
what basis does a church find it is their prerogative to decide what to do with
the revealed Word of God? Take careful
note that this view diverges from that of Jesus, Whose references to the Law
and the Prophets were unalloyed by doubt or skepticism. Viewing the Bible as anything other than, not
to mention less than, Christ does is treacherous terrain that leads to no good destination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">We are accountable for the
spiritual light we are given; those who choose to turn away from or not receive
spiritual light, and yet purport to be a source of it anyway, are blind guides
and speak without knowledge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">There’s no smorgasbord
of spiritual truth. There’s just one,
full-strength, pure, unadulterated, and unspeakably expensive choice. Menus that suggest otherwise are evil
fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-1789269094395772362013-02-18T10:34:00.001-08:002013-02-18T10:34:47.822-08:00The Definition You've Been Waiting For......courtesy of John Daniel Holliday, 15, and self-styled expert on the opposite sex:<br />
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"Girls are just a great big bowl of confusion!!!"<br />
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So, now you know.<br />
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You read it here first!!Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-46580644214953472332013-02-01T07:16:00.003-08:002013-02-01T07:16:42.267-08:00<i>Reprinted from The SPICE Feb. 2013, First Evangelical Free Church</i><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE REAL THING</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
by Kathy Holliday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Heart-shaped candy boxes are making their annual
appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Love” is in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Portrayed as the virtual champagne of life,
the world’s version of love bubbles and sparkles enticingly, suggesting
effortless fulfillment. But frothy, fizzy emotion lacks staying power: often it
quickly goes flat, and the effervescence is replaced by crushed hopes and scarring
emotional pain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prime time television is
cluttered with “reality” shows featuring bachelors and bachelorettes who evaluate
bevies of candidates who <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>each hope to be
chosen as “the one.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This isn’t Love; it’s a carefully manipulated set-up exploiting
our intrinsic need for love, while at the same time allowing viewers to be
virtual voyeurs .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s be honest; the
real motive behind these “love pursuits” is advertising income. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Real love is fundamentally different. It is indivisible from
God Himself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A nugget of truth shared by an Adult Sunday School teacher applies
here: “The fallen world we live in is upside-down. If the world is pointing one
way, you can be sure that God’s Truth is the opposite.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And an additional pearl of wisdom, gleaned in another Sunday
School class, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">[lesson: pay attention in
class!]</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>true love -in whatever relational
context- is “an unconditional commitment to an imperfect person.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We all are imperfect, born with a fatal flaw that can only
be remedied by a love beyond our capability, a profound and costly love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lord’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">agape</i>
love is other-centered, a love “in spite of” the beloved’s shortcomings. It’s
love that never fails [I Cor. 13:8] and never runs out because its source is
God, and “God is Love,” [1 John 4:8].</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Any who doubt need only look at the cost He willingly paid
to redeem us and the undeniable life change in those who have been transformed and
thus able to extend the same agape love to others. </div>
Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-83068040036335404902012-09-20T20:01:00.000-07:002012-09-20T20:01:19.902-07:00Message in the FenceA familiar twinkle glinted in his eye and the corners of his mouth couldn't stay down if they wanted to...the Ladies' Man had Stepped Off the Curb, and her answer was in the affirmative! Yes, the LM's first foray into the treacherous terrain of Homecoming is just around the corner...<br />
<br />
Back in my day, the options for social interaction were much more limited: telephone, telegram if you really wanted to leave an impression, pen to paper via the US Postal Service, and--if all other options were exhausted--one could suck it up and approach someone face to face. With that last option, there were full points for courage, but, seriously, how prosaic!!<br />
<br />
No such worries in this brave new world of abbreviated, envelope-pushing, instantaneous social discourse. Why talk when you can text? No need to worry whether your auditor has halitosis. And you avoid all that pesky eye contact.<br />
<br />
Alternatively, one can resort to Facebook and trust that your private message doesn't "somehow" get broadcast all over cyberspace. In a pinch, one can ever delve back into ancient history and use the "human telephone line." Admittedly, this tends to lead to message distortion, not to mention all sorts of unintended and unforeseen drama.<br />
<br />
NEWS FLASH! The essential element du jour for the confident cavalier is Creativity. Who knew?<br />
<br />
Hopelessly Backward Parents: You did what?!?<br />
<br />
Ladies' Man: What? Homecoming's coming up...you can't wait too long, ya know.<br />
<br />
HBPs: So, what does that mean?<br />
<br />
LM: What? I'm cool with it.<br />
<br />
Fount-of-Information Sister: Johnny's going on a date. Can't you tell?<br />
<br />
HBP: What?!<br />
<br />
LM: *grin* - *glint*<br />
<br />
Mom: Who did you ask?<br />
<br />
LM: Just a girl I know ...<br />
<br />
Dad: What's her name?<br />
<br />
LM: Brooke.<br />
<br />
Mom: What about *Girl From Last Week*?<br />
<br />
LM: Huh? *shrug*<br />
<br />
Dad: When did you ask this Brooke?<br />
<br />
LM: Today.<br />
<br />
Mom: Wait, wait, wait...you went up and asked a girl today to go to Homecoming with you...<br />
<br />
LM: Uh, ye-ahhhh!<br />
<br />
Dad: Wow...<br />
<br />
Mom: Were you nervous? I mean did you man up and just go right up to her?<br />
<br />
LM: *quizzical, sympathetic glance*. Of course not. You have to go for creativity these days.<br />
<br />
Hmmmmmm...so what did you do?<br />
<br />
LM: I got all these cups and stuck them in the fence links.<br />
<br />
Wow, that must have taken a lot of cups...<br />
<br />
LM: Not really; I just spelled out "Will U?"<br />
<br />
*Glint*<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-59417631490482943672012-08-30T17:31:00.002-07:002012-08-30T17:31:24.978-07:00Highly recommended reading: well worth your time, and not that long!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.nationalreview.com/corner/290393/president-prophet-obama-s-unusual-encounter-eric-metaxas-mark-joseph">http://www.nationalreview.com/corner/290393/president-prophet-obama-s-unusual-encounter-eric-metaxas-mark-joseph</a>Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-90641416576761938412012-08-28T21:20:00.003-07:002012-08-28T21:20:42.069-07:00Provoked to RantBonjour-<br />
<br />
It is not often that I am provoked to actual ire by a piece of automatically generated "robo-mail"...but such was the case recently. To put this in perspective I received --in the same mail delivery--another piece of robo-mail of undeniably more unsavory content...a reminder from my friendly, neighborhood gastroenterology center that, with the advent of my last birthday, I was also due for Colonoscopy #2. I did not click my heels in glee when I read this and recalled my first experience at this "interesting" health facility. But, these mortal tents we live in down here degrade over time, and this quite-intrusive procedure serves a purpose.<br />
<br />
But what caused my blood pressure to shoot upward was the following missive, received from my insurance intruder...I mean, provider.<br />
<br />
I quote:<br />
<br />
"Dear KATHLEEN HOLLIDAY,<br />
<br />
I have reviewed the request to cover *MEDICINE YOU NEED*. <span style="color: red;"> I am pleased to inform you that I have approved your doctor's request for this medication</span>. This authorization is effective from 08/16/2012 through 08/16/2013.<br />
<br />
If you have any questions regarding this request or the proper use of this drug, please contact your doctor.<br />
<br />
If you have any questions about your pharmacy benefits coverage, please call the Customer Service number on your CIGNA ID card.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<br />
*Intrusive Pharmo-Crat*, PharmD<br />
Manager, Pharmacy Service Center"<br />
<br />
Frankly, gentle readers, there is far too much objectionable presumption in the above content to comment upon sanely; however, I found myself so livid that I could decompress only by venting via a letter which I will mail to *Dr. -Crat* as soon as I can decide whether I should bother sending it certified mail or not.<br />
<br />
For those interested, below I append my letter of complaint:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2<i>3 August
2012<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Dear Mr.
Imperato,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>This afternoon I received a form letter over your signature
telling me that you are “pleased to inform” me that you have approved –for one
year--my physician’s request for the medication that she has prescribed for me. The practical implication of your letter is
that I will receive the medication that was prescribed for me some weeks ago,
which I appreciate. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>In point of fact, when my husband and I enrolled for a CIGNA
benefit program through his employer, it did not occur to us that the benefits to
be provided were conditional.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I am aware of the ongoing, spiraling costs of medical care
and medication that have plagued the US for several decades. I am also aware of the sizeable contribution
deducted from our salary that pays for our CIGNA coverage, including
prescription benefits. Although I do not
find it convenient, I am content to use the mail-order pharmacy service
mandated by CIGNA to fill maintenance medication prescriptions.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>However, it is no happy realization for me that the current
state of insurance-controlled health care benefit programs, specifically CIGNA’s prescription plan, has devolved
to the point that an insurance pharmacy manager apparently wields the
prerogative to grant or deny a bona fide prescription request for a patient
covered by an employer-sponsored benefit plan. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Mr. Imperato, I am offended by this policy. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>No doubt, the development of this practice by CIGNA is not
the sole responsibility of any one individual, but as you are the manager from
whose jurisdiction this letter was sent, I am directing my feedback to
you. I am taking the time to do so
because I choose to believe that there is good faith in the many
assurances given by CIGNA that the health concerns of your member patients are
your priority concern. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>However, my current experience has been the opposite. Not only is it the case that various drugs
are classified into “Step 1,2,and 3” categories with associated variations in
accessibility; it is now apparent that, beyond processing and shipping valid
prescription requests for member patients, CIGNA sees fit to encroach upon
doctor-patient relationships. Under what
auspices or presumptions has this come about? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i> I do not need or
desire, nor do I think it appropriate, for CIGNA to do any more or less than what
was contracted for when I enrolled in the benefit plan to which I refer. My objections to CIGNA’s quality of service include (1)the erecting of
virtual obstacles to the fulfillment of promised benefits; and (2) requiring my
personal physician to spend undue time and attention justifying and
“pre-authorizing” the very prescriptions
which she has already </i></span><i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">ordered for
me on the basis of her medical expertise, experience, and intimate knowledge of my personal medical
history. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Beyond this, apparently CIGNA considers it within its purview to
provide a “health advocate” service, the purpose of which, in my experience, is
unrelated to the prompt and professional processing of prescriptions.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Just yesterday afternoon, I received a third unsolicited, automated
call from CIGNA offering to enroll me in a program that would link me with a
“health advocate” to help “answer any questions [I] might have” and to provide
guidance in developing and pursing my personal health goals. Ironically, when I asked the question of most
importance to me, namely, whether my prescription would be filled as written,
the well-meaning health advocate could not help me. She seemed unfamiliar with the Step1,2, and 3
drug categories outlined in CIGNA patient literature and was only able to transfer
me to a CIGNA pharmacist, who also could not answer my question. I assume this is because my order was still awaiting
an approval decision from you.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I do not need or desire any further interruptions or
obstacles to my health care. I am
fortunate to have excellent medical professionals to evaluate and treat me.
What I seem to lack is a simple, straightforward program by which to have my
prescribed medications provided. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Can you help me with this, Mr. Imperato?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Finally, it is apparent that the policies and practices
referenced above potentially place CIGNA at cross-purposes with its own
expressed goals of excellent patient care.
Some of the escalating costs which managed health care ostensibly was
developed to control seem to be exacerbated by the policies I have experienced
and detailed above. In my own physician’s office, an additional employee had to
be added to process the many pre-authorizations
required by CIGNA and other insurance benefit providers. Clearly, this does not reduce costs. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Mr. Imperato, it is my sincere hope that you will give
thought and attention to the concerns I have described, particularly those related to the ways in which health
insurance policies intrude upon and
diminish doctor-patient relationships. Please consider this letter as feedback
from a veteran client who is dissatisfied with the pharmacy service you provide.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i> In light of your pharmacy service's many claims to excellence and concern for client heath concerns, I look forward to your
reply at your earliest convenience.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 3.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 3.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 3.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Kathleen K. Holliday</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-84697347692293106512012-06-06T09:39:00.001-07:002012-06-06T09:39:52.485-07:00Why I Don't Live at the P.O.<div style="text-align: -webkit-center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">[with apologies to Eudora Welty,
author of “Why I Live at the P.O.”]<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">To begin
with, I consider myself a staunch supporter of the U.S. Constitution, including
all of the various and sundry responsibilities and areas of purview that it
ascribes as specifically governmental concerns.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">To wit, “</span><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Article
1,</span></b><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Section
8, Clause 7</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">of the</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ask.com/wiki/United_States_Constitution?qsrc=3044" title="United States Constitution"><span style="color: #5a3696; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">United
States Constitution</span></a>, known as the</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Postal Clause</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">or the <b>Postal Power</b>,
empowers</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ask.com/wiki/United_States_Congress?qsrc=3044" title="United States Congress"><span style="color: #5a3696; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">Congress</span></a></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">"To establish</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ask.com/wiki/Post_office?qsrc=3044" title="Post office"><span style="color: #5a3696; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">Post Offices</span></a></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">and</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ask.com/wiki/Post_road?qsrc=3044" title="Post road"><span style="color: #5a3696; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">post Roads</span></a>…</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> with the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://www.ask.com/wiki/Implied_powers?qsrc=3044" title="Implied powers"><span style="color: #5a3696; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">implied
authority</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">to carry,
deliver, and regulate the mails of the United States as a whole.</span>”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">And so it was, armed with an earnest and wholesome belief in
the authority and commitment of the United States Post Office to fulfill its
Constitutional duty that I set off on my most recent misadventure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">As these things tend to do, another family milestone had crept
up on me recently and I found myself in need of postal services. Our oldest daughter was to be graduated from
high school, and the pertinent announcements, mailing lists, and open house
invitations were arrayed before me on the dining room table. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Too late did I realize that in my zeal to complete this task,
I had neglected to ensure that all necessary components would fit in the same size
envelope. Thus, I had already purchased
announcements, just printed photo open house invitations, and had no envelopes
that would accommodate both. Cowed at the possibility of having to pay first
class postage to mail all pieces separately,I turned to my trusty personal
accountant and husband for counsel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> “Just take them to
the post office and have them metered.
Then you’ll be sure you don’t have to pay any more than you have to.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">With these syllables of wisdom resonating in my ears, I set
forth with my bulging tote bags of mail and a gleam of hope in my eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Patiently, I queued up in the Loves Park Post Office
lobby. After a not unreasonable
interval, I was summoned to the counter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“How can I help you today?” asked the smiling postal clerk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Well, I have some mail I’d like to have metered, please.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The friendly brow contracted slightly in mystification.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Metered?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Um, yes. Metered. You know, like how you run pieces of mail
through a postage meter instead of sticking a stamp on each one? You meter mail for people…”, I trailed off.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Oh, no we don’t do that,” with a brief head shake and
slightly bemused look.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Seriously?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Nope. I mean, yes, seriously, we don’t meter mail here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I glanced from Friendly Eyes to the adjacent clerk, Kenny.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Now, Kenny and I are old, if not formal, acquaintances. I’ve had a few skirmishes with Kenny over the
years, but it’s always been civil, if not strictly logical. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">For my edification, Kenny chimed in. “We don’t do meters
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“But, this is a post office, and I’m trying to mail my mail.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Oh, you can still do that here!” Thanks, Kenny.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Back to Friendly Eyes. “It’s just that we don’t meter mail HERE. If we metered mail here, the line would go
all the way out the door and into the parking lot.” Hmmm, wouldn’t want to work
you guys too hard…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Kenny chimed in again.
“Nope, can’t do the meter here. But you could go somewhere else, like,
say Adams Letter Service, they’d do it for ya.”
Adams Letter Service is easily 25 to 30 minutes away, and gasoline in
these parts is running $3.59/gallon on a good day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“But then, they’d a likely tack on a service charge,” he
added helpfully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Friendly Eyes corroborated this by nodding. Nonplussed, I
began my futile, and apparently fictional, protest that the Post Office was
here to serve me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“I’d say the quickest thing to do would be to get stamps for
all of these,” Friendly Eyes concluded, slapping my invitations and
announcements on the postal scale. “Yup,
they each qualify as single-first class.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> “Hmm, let’s see, we
have several forever stamps now…did you say this was for a party?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Chiming Kenny added, “We have those Celebrate stamps. Would
you like those, Miss? How many do you need?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Um, about 90, I guess.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Uh, don’t have that many…Kenny you got any of those stamps
with the balloons?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Quicker than you can shed a tear of frustration, Kenny slapped
open his battered binder of current postage stamps and was retrieving “Celebrate”
stamp sheets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After reluctantly handing Friendly Eyes my credit card, I
proceeded to take out small stacks of envelopes and, despite now lacking anything close to a
celebratory attitude,affix stamps to each.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Ma’am would you mind stepping over there so others can get
to the counter?” Kenny raised his turbulent eyebrows at me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I glanced back at the completely empty mail lobby, loaded up
my tote bags, stamps, purse, and seething frustration, and proceeded to the
outer room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">About a quarter of an hour later, the last of the envelopes
had been duly stamped, and I was trudging over to the “Stamped Mail” bin. Mirthlessly, I eyed the adjacent bin, labeled
“Metered Mail.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But, the last laugh was theirs: striding toward the exit, I spied this
helpful US Postal Service sign: “Helping
Make Your Life Easier Is What We Do Best.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-76252935075210277462012-05-01T07:05:00.000-07:002012-05-01T13:44:04.949-07:00Two Magic Words<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was little, my parents admonished my sister and me
over and over to use the magic words, “please” and “thank you.” The lesson has stuck, and hopefully has been
instilled in my own progeny…I see inconsistent evidence occasionally, and still
verbally reinforce it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, I’d like to suggest that two other words are imbued
with far greater power than these bywords of social convention and
courtesy. I suspect it is no coincidence
that <i>these</i> words are more powerful
because they are more costly to say, although certainly as simple: <b>“I’m sorry</b>.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If the first word adorable, wide-eyed tiny people learn to
say is “NO!” [and it often is], close on its heels should be this
acknowledgement of personal responsibility and remorse. How many international incidents and domestic
disputes could be quickly defused with this simple, surefire remedy?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was reminded of this recently when someone near and dear
to my heart began the day with an unexpected and uncalled for verbal
salvo. Its stinging shrapnel seemed to
hang in the air a moment before the speaker departed, leaving his words to
drift down like unseen ash. Caught
unaware and unprotected, the two of us in the target range could only look at
each other. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The whole day dragged on as I tried to buffet away my hurt
and consequent anger. Letting it “in one ear and out the other” has always been
easier said than done for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because relating to this person has been painful for so
long, it was easy for me to make this incident a “tipping point.” As injured
parties, we want to retaliate, and we want to have impact. My hurt feelings
seethed on the back burner all day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So it was a surprise, in the late afternoon, to see this
familiar face linger a moment before emerging from his car with an apology on
his lips -- direct, intentional, immediate, and unexpected. The buttoned up, long suffering reserve I had
adopted as my mode of protection seemed to melt away in my surprise. Tipping point? What tipping point? I had forgotten how powerful those two words
could be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One incident-specific “I’m sorry” doesn’t undo a backlog of
old pain. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it’s a start.</div>
<br />Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-68221828917566984142012-03-10T18:09:00.001-08:002012-03-10T18:09:26.377-08:00Overheard in Cecilyville"Ack!!! I can't decide if Davy is Mr. Scrooge or the Grinch!!! It's just too hard!"<br />
<br />
Hmm, brings all my worries right into perspective!Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-17601520756252307632012-02-20T07:48:00.000-08:002012-02-20T07:48:31.942-08:00But DNA is Innate...Here, courtesy of National Public Radio this morning, is more evidence of just how insistent and persistent is mankind’s determination to “do what is right in their own eyes,” [Judges 21:25, NASB]; inconvenient biological facts to the contrary be damned!<br />
<br />
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=147139093<br />
<br />
“A small but growing number of teens and even younger children who think they were born the wrong sex are getting support from parents and from doctors who give them sex-changing treatments, according to reports in the medical journal <i>Pediatrics</i>.<br />
<br />
“It's an issue that raises ethical questions, and some experts urge caution in treating children with puberty-blocking drugs and hormones…Switching gender roles and occasionally pretending to be the opposite sex is common in young children. But these kids are different. They feel certain they were born with the wrong bodies.<br />
<br />
“Some are labeled with "gender identity disorder," a psychiatric diagnosis. But [Dr. Norman] Spack, [author of one of three reports published Monday and director of one of the nation's first gender identity medical clinics, at Children's Hospital Boston] is among doctors who think that's a misnomer. Emerging research suggests they may have brain differences more similar to the opposite sex.”<br />
<br />
The broadcast report, originating in the link above, goes on to detail various aspects of the current debate about how soon to suppress the onset of biological puberty using hormone "therapy" and when to begin “reassignment” treatment to bring the child’s physical and psychic genders into alignment, [if such a concept does not strain the imagination too far.]<br />
<br />
I have far more questions than answers on this curious but primal topic: why is this phenomenon apparently growing in numbers? how much of it is driven by what is now “possible” in terms of endocrinologic technology and/or changing mores about what constitutes gender? why is there growing acceptance of the concept that physical biology and psychological gender identity need not be linked?<br />
<br />
Not only do I not have the answers to these questions, but I also think that as a society we are at a point where the very definition of words like “answer” and “truth” are being deconstructed to the point of meaninglessness. If you don’t like the pattern of your sweater, pull any thread until it unravels as far as you please. <br />
<br />
However, there are two things I DO know: (1) no amount of tinkering will change the fact that every cell of a person’s body bears only one of the two possible genetic chromosome combinations: XX for female or XY for male. No other possibilities exist; and (2) tampering with the magnificent work of an infinitely superior intelligence never leads to greater fulfillment, joy, or meaning. <br />
<br />
We can choose to be congruent or incongruent with what IS in an empirical world. But by attempting to deny or redefine what fundamentally is unalterable, we can succeed only in deforming ourselves.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-48366127752155044992012-02-07T12:02:00.001-08:002012-02-20T07:50:37.900-08:00PassingAnother one of my professors has died. The first time this happened, it was an unexpected "reality check". Now Dr. Garab is gone. I know this because today's mail brought the <i>English Department Newsletter </i>from my alma mater; it comes about four times a year. <br />
<br />
My life now seems far away from those graduate school days of pressured study and long nights haunting the library. But that time in my life is part of who I am today-- for better, probably not for worse.<br />
<br />
Eerily, I remember in vivid detail sitting as an apprehensive freshman in Dr. Garab's Composition and Literature class...I won't say how long ago. He was a curious little man with quick dark eyes, quirky jackets, and a pipe in the corner of his mouth which he seemed to have trouble keeping lit. He was the first, and probably only, man who I heard explain how much he enjoyed drinking tea with his wife out of a fine china cup. He also was one of the first who opened the world of literature to me, and that is a gift that doesn't expire. <br />
<br />
I still recall my angst as I sat in my dorm room, in front of my new, chocolate brown Smith-Corona electric typewriter, praying for some insight and assistance in the face of my first essay on "The Great Gatsby". God was faithful, and the words flowed. It was one of the rare experiences of individual and unalloyed joy.<br />
<br />
The following week I felt as if my face were a blinking red beacon as he read my essay aloud in class (fortunately without giving my name). It was an unexpected affirmation that served as a personal touchstone.<br />
<br />
Dr. Garab was a lay pastor in the local Episcopal church, which made him an anomaly among professorial staff, and a weirdo among some students. He didn't trumpet this, but he didn't deny it, either. So, unlike the other half dozen or so former professors of mine whose obituaries I've read in recent years, Dr. Garab is one I expect to see again. I don't doubt that he is now in the presence of the One who is Truth. <br />
<br />
Unlike so very many men and women of letters across the centuries who have been lauded for wrestling with and interpreting the great questions of human experience, he apprehended and bowed before Him about Whom Paul wrote, "He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together." [Colossians 1:17]Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-6581587645787928962012-01-19T12:48:00.000-08:002012-01-19T12:48:55.753-08:00Too HorizontalNew entry for the "Novel Approaches to Unemployment" file:<br />
<br />
No names will be given to protect the...horizontal...;however, this minor episode was A New One On Me. A particular young adult male in residence here has been unemployed for a couple of months. It is a tough economic and employment environment here, more so than in some areas of the country. To date, his attempts to secure employment have resulted in only one, unsuccessful interview. Curiously, because he has a smart phone, he has the luxury of trawling the internet and submitting various employment applications online...from the horizontal position in bed! And here was I, not so many years ago, actually wearing out shoe leather!! <br />
<br />
From time to time, thoughtful friends of mine have forwarded job leads to me, to pass on to this unemployed relative of mine. Today was another example. This time, the lead was for an opportunity promising hard work, tough hours, and decent pay: a third-shift position at the nearby Chrysler assembly plant. Who knows if it's a long shot but at this point, it is folly to pass up any opportunities from my viewpoint.<br />
<br />
So, after reading this e-mail, I went upstairs to address the Still-Horizontal [it is 2:43 pm, CST] Unemployed Resident to pass along this news. <br />
<br />
"How do you know this, Mom?"<br />
<br />
Well, because it was e-mailed to me, and still is on the screen if you want to run downstairs and take a look at it.<br />
<br />
But, going vertical after so many hours of being horizontal, might be a challenge.<br />
<br />
"Just e-mail it to me."<br />
<br />
That way, there's no need to disturb the horizontal perspective, or exert any extra modicum of effort. Gack.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-35084882939598313472012-01-03T23:15:00.000-08:002012-01-03T23:15:15.173-08:00Beyond UnderstandingFile this under “Inexplicables, Gender-determined.”<br />
<br />
It’s news to no one that this crazy, mixed up world we live in is careening faster and faster out of any comprehensible orbit. As William Butler Yeats [in “The Second Coming"] famously put it “the centre cannot hold”.<br />
<br />
Indeed, how can anything hold when so little is anchored or anchorable these days? Since the focus of this evening’s rumination has to do with gender issues, I’ll start with this little plum from today’s cnn.com post: http://inamerica.blogs.cnn.com/2012/01/03/lgb-t-the-big-surprise/?hpt=hp_bn1; the article from which this excerpt was taken is entitled, <br />
“LGB and T: The Big Surprise:<br />
<br />
<i>When Donna was a young man, back in high school, she was a wrestler. After a 30-year hiatus, she got back into the sport. She beat enough women half her age to place sixth in the last U.S. nationals.<br />
<br />
As for the obvious questions - the International Olympic Committee has specific criteria for someone like Donna to qualify as a female athlete. She has met those guidelines. She has had the necessary surgeries. And she has been on hormone therapy for two years. She's a woman. And she’s determined to pin the competition.<br />
<br />
Call it the LGBT community.</i><br />
<br />
If you go to the link referenced above, Donna is the blonde in the pink dress—hard to miss.<br />
<br />
So, here’s what I’m scratching my head about at the moment. Great effort, talent, toil, and tears are bent toward changing who we are from the surface ink of any tattoo du jour to the very criteria of what constitutes a person’s sexual identity. <br />
<br />
And yet. <br />
<br />
Can anyone seriously doubt the notion of ‘hard wiring’ when it comes to certain components of human gender? Sure, you can surgically excise or append, replumb, and change the hormone marinade. I’m not even taking issue with the fact that people do these things…it happens. <br />
<br />
But juxtapose these cutting-edge [sorry] developments against the soundtrack of the latest first-person shooter game, and then tell me how much we’re able to change about ourselves.<br />
<br />
What I’m talking about is familiar to generations of good hearted mothers who aren’t sure whether to be alarmed or complacent when their sons seem to emerge from the womb making automatic weapon noises. What the hay?!<br />
<br />
With three sons now aged 22, 20 and 14, I’ve long since given up understanding the male fixation with warfare and annihilation. And I’m too tired to let it keep me awake. But the resiliency of the male –warfare link is staggering. I’m not ignoring the fact that many women have talents, passion, and records of military valor. It’s just that I don’t really know how to think about it all.<br />
<br />
On the one hand, the appetite for the trappings of warfare seems insatiable. No doubt there is a biological imperative at work here to ensure that, in the bigger picture, a society is provided for and defended. <br />
<br />
On the other hand, there is only so much mayhem and destruction any individual can absorb, and when that limit is met, handing around appears to be very hard to do. <br />
<br />
One of the more discouraging stories I’ve read lately follows a young soldier in a Welsh Guardsman unit who completed a number of tours in Afghanistan and,against great odds, survived to return home. Despite psychiatric therapy to help him cope with the inevitable, debilitating Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder he suffered, he succumbed to suicide before the age of 30, leaving a mother, sibling, and baby daughter. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2081638/Lance-Sergeant-Dan-Collins-Afghanistan-hero-bear-horrors-war-longer.html<br />
<br />
I used to point out such accounts to my gung-ho son as cautionary tales, but it doesn’t register with him. He’d rather tell me the specs of the latest iteration of a Kalashnikov rifle, as if I cared. Ever since I first gave birth, I’ve harbored a theory that armed conflict would be considerably less probable were it the prerogative of women: what could be more antithetical than living the profound journey that results in new life and then engaging in the death and destruction of war?<br />
<br />
Yet I know that tomorrow, when homework is done and put away, there will emanate from the downstairs man cave of the young warriors in residence a barely tolerable impersonation of a snarling Russian warlord. <br />
<br />
And I will stir the soup.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-51564408126213601662011-12-23T08:53:00.000-08:002011-12-23T08:53:31.909-08:00So Much More“Stay tuned for our upcoming segment on ‘Getting to the Heart of Christmas’.” Thus chirped one of the carefully coiffed TV anchor/hostesses on a popular breakfast talk show this morning.<br />
<br />
Of course, since this was a secular, network program, I had no illusions that anything remotely related to the “heart of Christmas” would ensue. The closest mainstream media ever chooses to get is using the word “Christmas,” and even then, it is doubtful that any passing thought is given to the derivation of the word. That, of course, is “Christ” and “mass,” two terms considered politically incorrect unless the second is used in the context of physics.<br />
<br />
What followed was a story about families who had lost virtually all but their lives in a ravenous wildfire near Austin, Texas four months ago that apparently burned for 35 days. Featured were accounts of two families, one with four children whose belongings were literally reduced to cinders, including one young daughter’s favorite Barbie doll. The second story had to do, somewhat ironically, with one of the firefighters who had fought the blaze and yet also lost all but his wife, baby and a single photo album. Tragic stories, under any circumstances, but somehow especially so at Christmastime…which, of course, is about the celebration of families brought together as a seasonal tradition.<br />
<br />
Or is it?<br />
<br />
Cut to the next scene as a pleasant reporter, donning a Santa hat, recapped the story briefly with the two families before gleefully leading them through a warehouse door to a waiting crowd of festive WalMart employees standing amidst mounds of wrapped presents and glittering trees. The camera zoomed in on several astonished faces, as the reporter explained that what we were seeing was truly “the heart of Christmas.” <br />
<br />
No mistake, it is truly heartening to see those who have suffered loss not only cared about but provided for. The camera panned and then zoomed in on the little girl who had lost her doll as the reporter guided her to a brand new Barbie doll, just for her. As a smile broke out and she pumped her small fist in delight, the reporter was clearly moved and declared “this is really the heart of Christmas!” And now back to you in the studio.<br />
<br />
But…this is only part of the story, and a comparatively minor, mortal part at that. Whether they realize it or not, all people inhabit two worlds, one mortal and one eternal; and this story did not scratch the surface of the heart of Christmas. <br />
<br />
What am I talking about? <br />
<br />
Merely the fact that we are eternal beings, wrought in the image of God, and for whom mortal life is an important way station, but not the destination. Unpopular concept, that. But you have to reckon with it if you want to come anywhere near the real heart of Christmas. <br />
<br />
Is this a time of year when extra focus is placed on acts of kindness and compassion? Without a doubt. But there’s a reason for this, and it is rooted in the historicity of Christmas. <br />
<br />
Perhaps we need to look as far back as “A Charlie Brown Christmas” to find an example in popular media that told the truth about Christmas. Near the end of this animated classic, Linus Van Pelt volunteers to tell Charlie Brown what Christmas is all about by taking the stage in his shepherd garb and simply, matter-of-factly, reciting a passage from Luke 2. This little scene stands out in greater relief than ever now, not only because of its simple audacity in telling the truth, but also because we are hard pressed to find anything like it in the maelstrom that is today’s media. <br />
<br />
Curiously, I don’t recall, either as a child first watching this, or as an adult, ever being aware of any rejection of this simple message. It was an interesting moment in a cartoon, easily passed over these days as a quaint, vintage footnote. <br />
<br />
Ah, but there’s so much more for the seeker of truth. The heart of Christmas is not doing good deeds for strangers, no matter how heartwarming. Encouraging as these moments are they are byproducts several concepts removed from the bedrock reality that Christmas is, at heart, a rescue mission.<br />
<br />
It is the historical account of the one, true God condescending to take on mortal flesh and leave eternity and enter time for the express purpose of testifying to the truth of sin and providing a path of redemption. Of course, grasping this transcendent fact does not lend itself to five minute video segments. Nor is it a mere heartwarming video vignette to get our day off to a nice start before we go about our usual business. <br />
<br />
Getting to the heart of Christmas requires acknowledging and owning the uncomfortable truth of our imperfection and helplessness to help ourselves; and the devastating consequences that indubitably follow if that’s the end of our story. <br />
<br />
The heart of Christmas is the incredible good news that we can have what we REALLY need and escape the judgment we deserve. Our destiny can be an eternal future with our Maker; and that is So Much More than a five minute feel-good story.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-27562331951645248772011-12-16T07:03:00.000-08:002011-12-19T07:27:39.715-08:00Knowing Nowhttp://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2074866/Christopher-Hitchens-dead-Writer-dies-aged-62.html<br />
<br />
I've just read two stories [which seem to be identical, although credited to two different writers] announcing the death of Christopher Hitchens, a British born ex-patriot who made his home in the US and his career as a writer and pundit with a lacerating pen.<br />
<br />
Although famous on many fronts, Mr. Hitchens is probably best known as a brilliant and caustic atheist who bravely, or perhaps foolishly--depending on your point of view--stared his own mortality in the face, refusing to capitulate in any way to the concept of faith. I saw a TV interview with him when his cancer was already quite advanced; when asked about his position on faith and the afterlife, he said he appreciated the sincere prayers of Christians who had told him they were praying for him, but he completely discounted the efficacy of prayer or even the existence of the God to whom these prayers were directed.<br />
<br />
"There will be no death bed conversion," he declared, echoing the late Carl Sagan. <br />
"If you hear accounts stating otherwise,do not credit them. They will not be true."<br />
<br />
Apart form his undeniably great intellect and talent as a writer, I find it rather stunning to learn of someone so very exercised and vociferous about atheism and hatred for religion of all sorts. The story referenced in the link above is worth reading if only to see some of his more outrageously memorable quotes; here are a few,as they appear in today's London <i>Daily Mail</i>:<br />
<br />
'A lying, thieving Albanian dwarf' - his description of Mother Teresa <br />
<br />
'The Missionary Position' - the title of the book he wrote about her<br />
<br />
'The Bible may, indeed does, contain a warrant for trafficking in humans, for ethnic cleansing, for slavery, for bride-price, and for indiscriminate massacre, but we are not bound by any of it because it was put together by crude, uncultured human mammals'<br />
<br />
So there! If nothing else, he is an exemplar of untrammeled intellectual freedom. And perhaps, now that his spirit has departed the realm of mortality and passed into eternity, he better understands the Source of the freedom he enjoyed in life, and which he will never know again. <br />
<br />
It's not often that someone dies and one can know, incontrovertibly, about his or her eternal destiny. But Christopher Hitchens would appear to be one of the exceptions. I say this with no satisfaction. As a Bible believer, I accept the truth and descriptions of the only two destinations we face as eternal beings. No one deserves to be in hell, an actual place, more than any other person who dies rejecting Christ. Some, like Hitchens, are just louder and more vociferous about their rebellion. <br />
<br />
Having been told once by a therapist to "believe the behavior" of others while trying to understand them, I've found it curious to see just how adamant Mr. Hitchens was in his atheism. Any time someone devotes considerable energy and passion to promoting an idea, it's a sure bet they take it seriously. When the object of such passion is to DENY something, it seems axiomatic that they consider that object to be powerful and, possibly, threatening. <br />
<br />
If it's simple nonsense, which he reportedly disdained, why bother with it at all? The obvious answer is, as he himself affirmed, that religion is an undeniable force in society, throughout human history, and geography. He found it troublesome in the extreme that so many have, allegedly, been so duped by so pervasive and pernicious a concept as religion, in all its forms. Thus, it apparently was a significant aim of his life to denounce it emphatically and often, not only in print but also in live debates. <br />
<br />
A salient irony, is that his own brother, Peter Hitchens, is a professing Christian.<br />
<br />
I find it nearly admirable, yet certainly sad, that a mortal human being can be so very sure that there is no supernatural or spiritual dimension to life at all. How does he know? Most likely, he would ask me just how do I claim to know.<br />
<br />
But the certainty is that this is a singular and mutually exclusive case of truth claims. Both cannot be right.<br />
<br />
Mr. Hitchens has stepped over the threshold, and now he knows for sure.<br />
<br />
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2074866/Christopher-Hitchens-dead-Writer-dies-aged-62.html#ixzz1gi0K2IbdKateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-42828258491898310752011-12-09T10:58:00.000-08:002011-12-09T11:14:18.876-08:00Holiday Correspondence<i>Yesterday my e-mail inbox contained a cute 'elf' animated greeting from a friend. Today, this same inbox brings unhappy tidings, courtesty of OneMillionMoms.com.<br />
Excerpt follows:</i><br />
<br />
"Macy's has fired a Christian woman for refusing to violate her religious beliefs. Her offense? She prevented a man dressed as a woman from entering the women's dressing room.<br />
<br />
According to Liberty Counsel, Natalie Johnson says she saw the young man walk out of the women's fitting room and politely told him that he could not go back in because it was for women only. The cross-dressing young man claimed that he is a "female." Johnson said that he was wearing make-up and girl's clothing, but clearly he was a male. The cross-dresser was accompanied by five other individuals.<br />
<br />
The group argued with expletives that Macy's is LGBT-friendly, to which Johnson replied that Macy's is also non-discriminatory toward religion, and that it would go against her religious beliefs to lie that he was a woman or compromise with homosexuality. The group then demanded to speak with a manager.<br />
<br />
Johnson's boss referred her to Macy's LGBT policy which allows "transgender" people to change in any dressing room they want.<br />
<br />
The manager demanded that she comply with the LGBT policies or lose her job. Johnson refused to go against her sincerely held religious beliefs and was terminated from her job.<br />
<br />
Macy's has essentially opened women's dressing rooms to every man. The LGBT agenda has become the theater of the absurd.<br />
<br />
TAKE ACTION<br />
<br />
Email Macy's President Terry Lundgren and urge him to immediately apologize to Natalie, reinstate her position with Macy's and put safeguards in place to protect women customers from men who would enter their dressing areas.<br />
<br />
IMPORTANT! Personally call Macy's headquarters at 513-579-7000 and express your outrage at this injustice to female employees and customers.<br />
<br />
Other numbers to call:<br />
<br />
Jim Sluzewski, Senior Vice President, Corporate Communications - 513-579-7764<br />
Macy's Media Relations - Julie Strider, 646-429-5213<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<br />
Monica Cole, Director<br />
OneMillionMoms.com"<br />
<br />
H<i>aving just spent a pleasant several hours with a friend at Macy's in the Chicago Loop on Sunday, this was not a welcome bulletin. I'm including the response I sent below, just to be "on the record", as we used to say back in J-school.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Dear President Lundgren:<br />
<br />
This past Sunday I enjoyed a wonderful few hours shopping with a friend at your Chicago State Street Macy’s location, a site I had long enjoyed as a resident growing up in the northwest Chicago suburbs. I was one of many loyal shoppers, and a former Marshall Field’s Woodfield employee, who was saddened by the passing of the Field’s era, but who continues to happily shop Macy’s. In fact, I found some wonderful bargains this past Sunday at the downtown Macy’s. It was a great day.<br />
<br />
Therefore, I was stunned and confused to receive an e-mail reporting that one of your employees has been fired for attempting to keep an allegedly transgendered male customer from re-entering the women’s fitting rooms. I include an excerpt of this account below:<br />
<br />
“Macy's has fired a Christian woman for refusing to violate her religious beliefs. Her offense? She prevented a man dressed as a woman from entering the women's dressing room. <br />
<br />
According to Liberty Counsel, Natalie Johnson says she saw the young man walk out of the women's fitting room and politely told him that he could not go back in because it was for women only. The cross-dressing young man claimed that he is a "female." Johnson said that he was wearing make-up and girl's clothing, but clearly he was a male. The cross-dresser was accompanied by five other individuals.<br />
The group argued with expletives that Macy's is LGBT-friendly, to which Johnson replied that Macy's is also non-discriminatory toward religion, and that it would go against her religious beliefs to lie that he was a woman or compromise with homosexuality. The group then demanded to speak with a manager.<br />
<br />
Johnson's boss referred her to Macy's LGBT policy which allows "transgender" people to change in any dressing room they want.”<br />
<br />
The organization that forwarded this account included an e-mail template with which to communicate to you. However, this issue is important enough to me that I first wanted to ascertain directly from Macy’s whether this account is, in fact true; and, second, to take the trouble to communicate personally.<br />
<br />
I sincerely hope that the reference to the Macy’s LGBT policy is inaccurate, but I count on you to give a truthful response. Should this report be true, I will be extremely disappointed, both by your treatment of your employee, Natalie Johnson, and by the direction of the relevant corporate policies that indicate Macy’s is forsaking the natural family customer base upon which Macy’s storied retail history has been built. If this is the ethos behind the Macy name, the ubiquitous red star logo, and the legendary Thanksgiving Day parade, I will be beyond disappointed. <br />
Furthermore, I could not in good conscience continue to be a Macy’s customer and am willing to demonstrate this by mailing you my current Macy’s credit card, including the “Thanks for Sharing” sticker for the benefit program for which I just re-enrolled, to the address below:<br />
<br />
Terry J. Lundgren, President <br />
Macy's<br />
7 West Seventh Street<br />
Cincinnati, OH 45202<br />
<br />
I have just called both your Primary Phone: 513-579-7000 primary phone number, where my call was not answered, as well as your media relations representative, Julie Strider, who also was not available and whose voice mailbox was too full to accept my message.<br />
<br />
I look forward to your prompt response and trust that the report I referenced above is a misunderstanding or misrepresentation. If not, you will be receiving my credit card and losing my business as long as the corporate policy referenced herein exists.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
Kathleen Holliday<br />
<br />
Kateye7hollidays@comcast.net<br />
6537 Glen Abbey Drive<br />
Loves Park, IL 61111Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-16778126271046843152011-09-11T21:01:00.000-07:002011-09-11T21:01:32.725-07:00SNAPSHOT- TEN YEARS ON: 9-11-11<b>THEN:</b><br />
<br />
I was at home, most likely in the kitchen of our previous house; we moved into this one in 2003. My older children were at school. The ages of all five on that date were 12, 10, 7, and 3, while the youngest was 10 months old. I was unaware that the world was changing until my husband called me from his office and told me, “I think we are under attack. Turn on the TV.” <br />
<br />
Several minutes later, I was on the phone with a friend…we were both agape in our respective homes, monopolized by the real-time, raw footage playing before us on our TVs. I remember it was hard to think at all. Time seemed frozen. The kids were somewhere in the house, probably not far from me, but I wasn’t attending to them. Alina, now 17, remembers playing with her Madeline doll and not understanding why I didn’t seem to hear her.<br />
<br />
“There’s goes the second tower,” I remember Susan saying on the phone. Sure enough, as if in suspended animation, the by-now-inevitable implosion played across the screen.<br />
<br />
I remember being at work when the Challenger shuttle blew up in the late 1980s. I remember being sent home from school early in first grade when President Kennedy was shot dead. But this was a different order of magnitude. <br />
<br />
<b>NOW:</b><br />
<br />
10:37 p.m.<br />
My children are 22, 20, 17, 13, and 10. The oldest is out with a friend, the second is asleep in preparation for his 5am start time for work in the morning. The third is collecting her school work for the start of a new week tomorrow. The fourth and fifth are talking about what it must have been like 10 years ago, when she was 1 and he was 3, wondering why Mom was riveted to the TV screen. Last night, we were with my parents and 25 others, celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary. A decade earlier, we were at the same restaurant celebrating their 50th.<br />
<br />
Tonight, my husband and I have lately returned from a cookout with an adult growth group from our church. Minutes ago, I finished grading Cecily’s <i>Easy Grammar </i>homework and entered her weekly average score on her Grade Logue. <br />
<br />
This morning I was at church, listening as a man on the platform read out the speech that had been given by President George W. Bush in the aftermath 10 years ago. The image of the American flag, and various images from 9-11-01 were projected on the walls, succeeded some minutes later by the hymn and praise chorus lyrics we sing Sunday by Sunday. The principles expounded in the sermon that followed were true 10 years ago and are true today. They will always be true because they are transcendent and timeless. <br />
<br />
But our collective consciousness is irretrievably altered, and in a way without precedent.<br />
<br />
<b>MEDIA SNIPPETS:</b><br />
<br />
• I was impressed by the immensity of the new 9-11 memorial waterfall captured in broadcast and internet coverage. President and Mrs. Obama, and former President and Mrs. Bush looked tiny in comparison.<br />
<br />
• With some surprise, I listened and watched President Obama read Psalm 46 at the remembrance ceremony at the Pentagon this morning. That was part of this morning’s reality. Less than a year ago, and probably again next week, there will be renewed babble about the (im)propriety of building a Muslim “community center” several hundred feet from Ground Zero.<br />
<br />
• I was actually awed as I listened to Vice President Biden speak about the losses suffered, and the smelted resolve of Americans as a result of the 9-11 attacks. Rarely have I seen or heard a message, on any topic, put across with so much passion, power, eloquence, and strength under control. It changed my opinion of him.<br />
<br />
• It was unexpected to me to see shots from around the world showing people of other nations paying tribute to the losses suffered by the US that day. I remember one photo caption described how a fire brigade from Clerkenwell, somewhere in London, stood at attention…not much more than a dozen, but they all stood straight and somber.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-81098370552987813182011-08-30T15:41:00.000-07:002011-08-30T15:41:58.132-07:00Get a ClueI have just looked at a published photograph, and I am angry. I'm not 'teed off;' I'm mad, and I take exception to the point of view that has provoked my wrath.<br />
<br />
The photo I refer to appears in roughly the middle of the September 10, 2011 edition of <i>WORLD</i> magazine, which arrived in my mailbox today. I have been a faithful <i>WORLD</i> subscriber for more than 15 years and was grateful to discover it after I could no longer stomach the flagrant bias of my previous news source, <i>Newseek</i>. So, one of the the lenses through which I digest news of the day is the editorial perspective of <i>WORLD.</i> Measured against the only truly inviolable plumb line, Scripture, I have never known of WORLD to steer me wrong. It's a trusted source of mine. <br />
<br />
The cover story, and much of the internal copy, is devoted to the tenth anniversary of 9/11...a milestone that gives me pause. But my reaction to a two-page photo of one of the unthinkable explosions left me agape. <br />
<br />
It's not that I hadn't seen similar images before. But it's been a while. It's too psychologically painful, and probably impossible, to sustain 'top of mind awareness' of such horrors, ten years on. <br />
<br />
But my ire is provoked not by the fiery images of the attacks, nor even by the news that more than 1,000 victims still have not been identified by physical remains.<br />
<br />
No, what I'm mad about is the still-trumpeted view, held by many--including one of my own sons--that "9/11 was an inside job." Even last night, in a media stupor, I scanned through a dozen or so online comments purporting to prove that the whole catastrophe was orchestrated by the US government and the Bush administration. <br />
<br />
I used to scornfully dismiss such blatherers as kindred spirits to those who doubt the veracity of the Holocaust or Neil Armstrong's moonwalk. The United States is held in thrall by demented despots who would dare to dream up and effect profound terror. Right.<br />
<br />
But now it's 10 years later and three--almost four--Arab countries in the grip of bona fide tyrants have been turned upside down. If memory serves, Saddam Hussein was not only captured and hanged, but eyewitnesses reported that the force of the drop actually caused him to be decapitated. <br />
<br />
Let's not forget Tunisia. Wikipedia.com sums their recent history up as follows: <i>"The country was governed by the authoritarian regime of President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali from 1987 to 2011 before he fled during the Tunisian revolution. Tunisia,... had suffered corruption benefiting the former president's family.[7]"</i><br />
<br />
Also figuring prominently in the so-called Arab Spring is the dethroning of long-time Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak. The last image I saw of him showed him confined to a hospital bed, within a fenced cell inside an Egyptian courtroom. How far they fall.<br />
<br />
And, perhaps before the end of this week, Moammar Gadaffi, Libya's chest-pounding megalomaniac, may well be captured. <br />
<br />
I enumerate these erstwhile heads of state as examples of those who not only might have, but actually did tyrannise and terrorize their own citizens. <br />
<br />
No matter what your politics are, I am confident to say that no such character has ever occupied the White House. Have they all been paragons of statesmanship? Clearly not. Has every president been known for foibles and stood on feet of clay? Without a doubt. <br />
<br />
But it is heinous to me that many give credence to the idea that 9/11 was a US government-driven catastrophe. Think about it. The United States, for all its grave ills and declensions, is still the singular nation to which more people flee than any other. The history, presence, and ethos of America do not support the idea of a government bent on self-destruction. Some have asserted that hatred and jealousy of the US was one of the factors prompting the 9/11 attacks. How could such motives be imputed to those who govern this country and already enjoy its undeniable blessings? <br />
<br />
I could go on, but allow me to conclude with another observation that should be axiomatic. Were it true that the US government, or even rogue factions within the government, was behind the 9/11 terror, this nation would be a very different one than it is now. Terrorists terrorize, and while the current US domestic scene today is troubled with weather disasters, it is not quailing in the grip of tyranny. <br />
<br />
Satan never succeeds so easily in his deception than when mankind willfully denies pervasive truth.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-59342853803543510212011-08-28T20:52:00.000-07:002011-08-28T20:52:08.112-07:00Memorial Teaching OpportunitiesI’ve said it before and hope it bears repeating: nothing focuses perspective on what’s important more than a funeral. First, it’s incontrovertible proof of everyone’s mortality. Second, if done well, a memorial service clears away the irrelevant components of life down here and shows us what’s what. Or at least that should be an expected result. The responsibility of having eyes to see and ears to hear, of course, lies with each individual.<br />
<br />
The service I’ve just returned from was, indeed, the celebration of a life well lived. The gentleman so honored was not perfect, nor did he pretend to be. But he knew Who was and had rested his case with Christ for more than 65 years. That single decision opened the door for all the precious virtue, honor, duty, dignity, compassion, sacrifice, and love that characterized his life in the intervening decades. His children and extended family, and friends testified to that clearly. <br />
<br />
And isn’t that what we all want, when we’ve reached the point of departure? In our secret hearts, don’t we hope that our life will have mattered, that we will have been a positive influence on at least a few others…not only that they will miss us, but that they will be better from having had us in their lives?<br />
<br />
Many years ago now, I was given a book of children’s prayers on the occasion of my oldest child’s birth. It was a nicely illustrated, dust-jacketed little volume, but I set it aside rather than read it to my little son. The reason was that certain pages of this sweet little book lied. And I know that lies come from a place that I don’t want to have represented in my home. Adjacent to adorable pictures of wooly sheep and the occasional verse from Psalms were innocuous-sounding epithets like this: “All roads lead to heaven.” Carefully detailed drawings of little children attired in costumes from around the world ascended into a doorway above the copy. So cute, was it, that I questioned whether I was being ridiculous or mean-spirited in my balking. <br />
<br />
But, if Truth is true, lies cannot be. Let’s be honest—which means adhering to what is true. Lies are maliciously motivated, deceitful grasps at the heels of eternal beings. All roads don’t lead to heaven. Only one does. <br />
<br />
I maintain that had the man celebrated today not followed Christ, this ceremony would have been very different, if it happened at all. Unless they have some vested interest in perjuring themselves before others, most people will not say things about others—particularly at a funeral—that they don’t know to be true. Why would you?<br />
<br />
I’ve been to funeral services for both believers and non-believers, and they have little in common other than acknowledging the departure of the deceased.<br />
<br />
Funerals for people devoid of commitment to Christ are earth-rooted. They may be ‘beautiful services,’ but that doesn’t last much beyond the exit door. It’s often considered “a shame” that the deceased is gone, but the observations tend to stop there. <br />
<br />
What’s the truth? The truth is that the spirit, the essence of that person, is continuing on in the spiritual realm…and this reality, by the way, has only two destinations. All the greeting card-hopes and angry assertions to the contrary can’t change the reality. Either “to die is gain,” as Paul reminds us [Phil. 1:21], and “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord,” [2 Cor. 5:8] or there awaits the pain of unceasing awareness that grace was rejected and the penalty of agony is deserved.<br />
<br />
There are those who have said this is just ‘my religion’ talking. There’s often little value in challenging this viewpoint. <br />
<br />
But I find it interesting to note the latent, undeniable testimony of remembrance services. Just as most human hearts retain a vestige of the innate knowledge of good and evil, so do most gatherings of remembrance subtly reveal this. It seems to me that if the life of the deceased did not acknowledge this, there is little evidence of hope in the farewell service.<br />
<br />
Hope is forward-looking. And only one path triumphantly passes through the doors of mortality because only one faith has a God that defeated death. I’ve never had occasion to go to a Hindu, Muslim or other non-Judeo Christian memorial service. But I’ve attended many nominally ‘christian’ or faith-less services. There’s a difference. And it doesn’t only have to do with the speakers or order of service. In the absence of a firm hope, there is emptiness.<br />
<br />
Several years ago, when the war in Iraq was still in full fury, I read an article in WORLD magazine about Dover Air Force Base. This installation bears a special burden because the bodies of soldiers killed in combat arrive here before being turned over to families. A doctor interviewed recalled the peculiar rigors of his position: his job was to study the broken remains of young people killed in violent circumstance…day in and day out. But he also testified that there was an enormous difference that he could not help but notice in family members who came to claim their dead. Those with a foundation of faith “do much better” than those without. I don’t think that is a random observation. <br />
<br />
Those who deny the spiritual dimension of mortal life will not see the evidence no matter how much it surrounds them. Closed eyes don’t see. But when this mortal life ends, it opens into a new reality, and the eyelids must be pried apart. <br />
<br />
I recall hearing a radio news report on the passing of renowned astronomist Carl Sagan whose later life seemed dedicated to the assertion that all there is of life is empirically known, and that the earth we inhabit is not a created wonder but, instead, a ‘pale blue dot’ as one of his book titles has it. At his death, his wife reportedly asserted that Sagan had met death remaining true to his convictions. “There was no deathbed conversion or religious experience.” <br />
<br />
Similarly, noted speaker and author Christopher Hitchens, battling terminal cancer, is aware that his personal end is imminent. Knowing this, he has been quoted as saying he appreciates the well wishes and even the prayers of others. But he remains steadfastly confident in his refusal to bow his knee. I watched a recent TV interview where he plainly told the interviewer that, should there be reports of him “coming to God” as his life comes to a close, “it will not be true. Do not credit such accounts.” If only his opinion was capable of shaping ultimate reality. But it is not.<br />
<br />
If the testimony of the natural world, the impact of Christianity on world history, or the lives of serious Christians are not enough to convince you, maybe you need to become a student of funerals.<br />
<br />
I find they provide persuasive teachable moments.<br />
<br />
<br />
Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-2652005070599769582011-08-12T09:56:00.000-07:002011-08-12T09:56:32.946-07:00Little ManMy first indication that my youngest son had awakened this morning was feeling his strong young arms around my shoulders as I sat at this keyboard. He has always been affectionate, even before he could stand on his own. <br />
<br />
The years have sped by, and he does much more than stand on his own. I am keenly aware that this year, at age 13 and a half, he will be deciding (even if subconsciously) what kind of person he actually will be. Will the many prayers and moments of teaching (as well as the teachable moments I didn't take advantage of) be evident?<br />
<br />
But sons and daughters aren't like recipes that pop out of the oven as successes or failures. There are many indications and opportunities for course correction along the journey, if only we pay attention. <br />
<br />
What I've noticed, though, is that this parenting enterprise is a collaborative effort: God is always there with His comprehensive love and wisdom; John is there, transforming before my eyes; the third component? That would be me, the very imperfect mom who tries to show up but doesn't always make it. Sometimes I am AWOL; or too tired, too discouraged, or simply not paying attention.<br />
<br />
This morning's interchange was a little too obvious to miss, though:<br />
<br />
Miss Cee: <i>Mom! Johnny thinks he can go to Eli's house to play just because I'm going there, but I asked you and HE didn't!!!</i><br />
<br />
John: [overheard, sotto voce] <i>*If you can go, so can I!*<br />
</i><br />
But, no, he can't. How quickly he has forgotten the instruction--repeated less than 24 hours ago--that permission must first be asked for and granted. Well, that's OK for little sisters but, hey, he's Officially A Teenager. <br />
<br />
But, not quite independent, and clearly still under authority, as is demonstrated by the fact that he is not yet fully independent. Time for Mom to suit up and boldly stride into the fray.<br />
<br />
I am met by cold eyes and a jutting, still-beardless chin. Must I really devote ten minutes and more emotional energy to report for duty again? But the truths I'm about to remind John of apply to me as well: we are all under authority; we don't own our own lives; God created us, and our lives are His if we call ourselves His children, and--make no mistake, my son--you also will stand before Him and give account of yourself. <br />
<br />
But, right now, submitting to God still involves submitting to your parents. Not cool, just true.<br />
<br />
So we talk about privileges and freedoms, choices and character. Do you understand what I'm telling you? Tell me what you understand. At this juncture, as so many times before, I look at his face and try to read his attitude. I remind him the choice is his: finish his chores or sit on his bed for an hour. <br />
<br />
Minutes later, I hear the rhythmic hum of the vacuum in his room. Then, I hear the front door open and slam shut. Wait a minute--<br />
<br />
But I look out the window and see him, unbidden, take out a bag for recycling pick up. He walks slowly back in the door. Our eyes meet, and I tell him he is free to go to Eli's house now.<br />
<br />
I haven't seen him run this fast--in flip flops yet!-- in a while.<br />
Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-81669979897157683292011-08-09T11:10:00.000-07:002011-08-09T15:31:06.059-07:00Only One AtonementGreetings...<br />
<br />
From time to time, I dip my figurative toe into the maelstrom of mainstream media to "take the temperature" of society. Often this proves to be too dispiriting or distasteful to take note of here. But today's news story about the life prison term--+ 20 years, for good measure--that was handed down to delusional paedophile and fake spiritual prophet Warren Jeffs bears a comment.<br />
<br />
[http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2024150/Warren-Jeffs-trial-50-brides-bred-worship-paedophile]<br />
<br />
Well, perhaps two comments. <br />
<br />
First, as one who likes to find a silver lining when I can, I applaud the fact that this manipulated and grossly manipulative man has received swift and, hopefully, lifelong justice. I'm sure his incarceration will be salutary for the many young females he preyed upon.<br />
<br />
Second, although we can only expect lies from liars, and deception from the deceived, I must take special exception here. Not to exonerate, but to point out two particularly heinous and twisted falsehoods declaimed by Jeffs.<br />
<br />
I will not detail the heartbreaking testimony reportedly heard in court over the past several days, some of which I would characterize as unspeakable. I choose to stand firmly on the words of Christ Himself, Who cautioned that those who lead little ones astray would be better off having millstones provided, [the definitive anti-flotation device] before being cast into the sea. <br />
<br />
People who fail to appreciate the veracity of Scripture pass these pronouncements off as nonsensical metaphors, at best. This is not the case. Even Warren Jeffs will not want to be in his own shoes when he must take his turn before the Lord in judgment.<br />
<br />
Words are powerful. This is self-evident. None of our words are spoken outside the knowledge of God. Of how much more import are the words of a leader, self-appointed or otherwise? Thus it is, to me, breathtaking that this man would instruct young girls that they would be 'rejected by God' should they fail to participate in 'heavenly sessions' of sexual intimacy with him, often before note-taking onlookers. I couldn't make this stuff up.<br />
<br />
Since there is nothing new under the sun, I chalk this up as merely an updated version of the base sexual worship practices of pagan peoples, mentioned in both the Old and New Testaments, as well as being evidenced in various anthropological records and artifacts from around the world. Some records of early Canaanite practices, I've heard, are so base that special permission must be secured to even see them.<br />
<br />
But to have the temerity to speak for God and threaten young women with His rejection? Apparently, Jeffs was too foolish, deluded, or seared to tremble when he spoke such things. But, he'll understand, ultimately.<br />
<br />
However, in my view, his second reported comment is worse. According to today's <i>London Daily Mail</i>, "In a cruel irony, the girls were encouraged [to engage in sexual rites] by Jeffs by being told their compliance would help <b>atone for the sins of their community."</b> <i>[Emphasis mine]</i><br />
<br />
Say what?<br />
<br />
Evidently he explained by being sexually victimized, his young "wives", some younger than 16, would help ATONE for communal sins. Again, words matter. Very few words matter as much as the word "atone." This profoundly powerful word refers to the singular and eternity-changing work of Jesus on the cross; that His shed blood has been utterly efficacious to atone for [or make us "at one" with God] for the sin of mankind. <br />
<br />
On this side of the Crucifixion and Resurrection, there is no other atoning. <br />
<br />
In all seriousness, I would venture to guess that Jeffs was not as familiar with the book of Hebrews as he needs to be if he purports to be a leader in any organization that bears the name of Jesus Christ. This is not a footnote. This is the cornerstone of true Christian doctrine. Even allowing that true doctrine has nothing to do with the goings-on of the Fundamental Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, the word "atone" is not one to trifle with.<br />
<br />
Perhaps God will be merciful to Warren Jeffs and allow him the opportunity in prison to comprehend and avail himself of the benefits of Christ's atoning sacrifice while his eternal spirit still inhabits his mortal body. <br />
<br />
With a sentence of "life plus 20 years" he should have plenty of time to reflect and possibly even cross paths with an authentic prison chaplain who can show him the Truth of Christ and lead him to repentance before his earthly sojourn ends. Perhaps, like David Berkowitz, about whom I wrote in my last post, prison could be the best thing that ever happened to Warren Jeffs. <br />
<br />
But first, he'll need to jettison the defiant pride he evidently displayed as recently as yesterday, as he insists he remains a prophet. Atonement is inseparable from truth, and the truth is that we all need atoning for, and the road is narrow. It requires agreeing with God about everything, owning our depravity, repenting and surrendering.<br />
<br />
Afterall, that's the only hope any of us has.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
[Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2024150/Warren-Jeffs-trial-50-brides-bred-worship-paedophile-prophet.html#ixzz1UYS7zQ00]<br />
<br />
<br />
Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-5360355943898323882011-07-30T17:19:00.000-07:002011-07-30T17:19:41.322-07:00Reaping Behind BarsAlthough it takes concerted effort, it is still possible to find some silver linings in the daily maelstrom of news headlines. They’re hard to find because—remember—everything is inverted down here is this world that is a “shadow of the things to come” [Col. 2:17]; in eternity, all will be clearly seen for what it really is. <br />
<br />
But here’s one I just caught on the national broadcast news. On August 10, less than two weeks away, it will have been 33 years since David Berkowitz, dubbed the ‘Son of Sam’ killer, was apprehended. He is serving six life sentences, the equivalent of 365 years, for killing six people and wounding several others, while terrorizing the metropolitan New York City area from July 1976 until August 1977 when he was arrested. <br />
<br />
A brief part of the news report included a familiar head shot of Berkowitz staring blankly into the camera with an eerie half smile on his face. The image morphed into what Berkowitz looks like today…a bald, heavy-lidded inmate whose eyes no longer look glazed over by schizophrenia. In the intervening years, apparently, he has undergone a transformation. <br />
<br />
“Berkowitz has been ‘born again’,” intoned the reporter, in what sounded very much like a sneer.<br />
<br />
This story, of course, falls under the category of ‘jailhouse conversions’ or ‘getting religion in the big house.’ It’s understandable that many are skeptical. <br />
<br />
But, every now and then, these accounts turn out to be true, and this is one of those times. As I have noted before, incarceration is the best thing that can happen to some people. Right, Chuck Colson?<br />
<br />
The Berkowitz story is more obvious than most: key features of some taunting letters that he wrote before he was apprehended, and of his court testimony, are ongoing references to a satanic cult to which he claimed to belong. <br />
<br />
And what’s to doubt? If human behavior springs from one of only two sources of motivation, God or Satan, it’s a slam-dunk he was not serving the Lord in 1976-7. He was deceived and under the power of the evil one. He committed heinous crimes and is justifiably removed from living in freedom for the rest of his mortal life. But after that, ah, after that comes the true denouement. <br />
<br />
Since 1987 when “ Berkowitz became a born again Christian in prison” [cf.Wikipedia.com] he has been transferred from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. He lives with the assurance of that transaction now. On the other side of the vestibule of eternity, he will experience the joy and riches of having his spiritual sentence commuted….that of being born a fallen being under the sentence of spiritual death, a condition we all share.<br />
<br />
Again, from Widipedia:<br />
<br />
<i>In 1987, Berkowitz became a born again Christian in prison. According to his personal testimony, his moment of conversion occurred after reading Psalm 34:6 from a Gideon's Pocket Testament Bible given to him by a fellow inmate.[38] In the same testimony, he stated that his obsession with and heavy involvement in the occult played a major role in the Son of Sam murders. </i>[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Berkowitz]<br />
<br />
And where’s the fruit of this profession of faith?<br />
<br />
Well, so far, he has passed on two different parole hearings because he feels he should not be freed. <br />
<br />
“<i>In March 2002, Berkowitz sent a letter to New York Governor George Pataki asking that his parole hearing be canceled, stating: "In all honesty, I believe that I deserve to be in prison for the rest of my life. I have, with God's help, long ago come to terms with my situation and I have accepted my punishment." [39] In June 2004, he was denied a second parole hearing after he stated that he did not want one. The parole board saw that he had a good record in the prison programs, but decided that the brutality of his crimes called for him to stay imprisoned. In July 2006, the board once again denied parole on similar grounds, with Berkowitz not in attendance at the hearing. He is very involved in prison ministry and regularly counsels troubled inmates.”<br />
</i><br />
<br />
Who knows what eternal destiny Berkowitz would be facing had he not been apprehended by Jesus? Facing justice on earth and mercy in the heavenlies is the best thing that ever happened to him.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-74696592765509842542011-05-27T14:48:00.002-07:002011-05-27T14:48:40.488-07:00Chinese Water TortureI bumped my heart against a familiar rock a couple of days ago. A painful bruise began to reappear, a well-known throbbing, while the offending rock seemed as unscathed and unyielding as ever. I rued my apparent failure to recall a lesson learned many, many times before.<br />
<br />
On reflection, it seems the only way to avoid the vulnerability is to avoid the contact; a strategy that’s safe, but which doesn’t mirror Jesus. Trying to be like Him inevitably involves personal pain. I don’t like that part. But on this side of eternity, it seems there are no other options. As C.S. Lewis once noted, to protect one’s heart and ensure it is kept safe and unhurt inevitably leads to its petrification…it hardens and becomes impervious until it’s really not a heart at all. It becomes painless and useless.<br />
<br />
In Deuteronomy 6:6-7 the Lord counsels parents to carry His commandments <em>“on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” </em> <br />
<br />
Kind of brief, these instructions, and really not too difficult to understand. A couple of things they don’t include, however, are suggestions for when the children’s hearts won’t yield to the impression; nor when to ‘call it a day,’ and decide that the mission has failed and our parental duty is absolved. I think I might be forgiven for thinking these commands are incomplete; then I remember Who the Author is and remind myself that He is never incomplete.<br />
<br />
So, where does this leave me? (1) I’m not responsible for the outcome, or the unyieldingness of my target; and (2)to give up is to defy the modeling of my heavenly Father. Neither of these conclusions is comfortable nor satisfying.<br />
<br />
Thus, I wonder if perhaps I must employ a sort of spiritual Chinese water torture, on the rocky heart of my child. Such a practice is both tedious and numbing. One can’t see whether any impact is being made at all. On the other hand, one can’t see that no impact is being made either. It’s just the slow drip-drip-drip of drops of Truth, coming forth aloud from a parent’s mouth to the stony ears of the prodigal or in silent prayer to the One Who knows. <br />
<br />
A wise woman once told me that we ‘don’t know what we don’t know.’ That axiom contains ample room for both frustration and hope. But a parent in possession of truth wields an unconquerable weapon. I need to be faithful to continually pick it up and stand at the ready; and to humbly ask for His help when the burden grows too heavy or my heart too faint. <br />
<br />
<em>“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.<br />
" </em>[Hebrews 4:12]<br />
<br />
No siren song of the world, nor chattering of the Enemy, has such effect. Like barnacles on a ship hull, the work of the devil sprouts as a deadly barrier to freedom and new life, impeding forward progress. Only the cleansing and insurmountable power of God’s truth is effective to burn it away. <br />
<br />
In the meantime, I accept that my assignment is to faithfully drip the tonic of truth onto the rock and trust that the granite cask imprisoning my child’s hearat is being eroded. Though I don’t see any progress yet, I know the One Who does.<br />
<br />
<em>”Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account." </em>[Hebrews 4:13]Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-54183706975804318372011-04-26T17:09:00.000-07:002011-04-26T18:10:58.377-07:00A Cup By Any Other Name...Greetings, gentle readers. I come to you tonight, swathed mummy-like, from inside a surprisingly long Ace elastic bandage. Is this an indication of how Fashion-Forward I am? But, of course not.<br /><br />Yesterday I underwent minor surgery intended to remove any doubt [as well as dubious tissue] regarding a recent mammogram/biopsy procedure. All seems to have gone well, and I have all the narcotics I need for pain relief...and, they DO come in handy.<br /><br />As often happens, this excursion included both highlights and lowlights. I'll begin with the former.<br /><br />Prior to leaving for the outpatient surgery center yesterday morning, Mr. H. prayed that we might come across a Christian caregiver at the hospital. This has been known to happen, and occurred repeatedly during Ben's month-long hospital stay two years ago. Still, it was a wonderful encouragement to recognize the nurse anesthetist who came into my 'holding' room...a delightful and highly competent professional we've known from church and violin lessons. Besides taking time to visit with us, catch up on our respective kids, and introduce us to the anesthesiologist, Polly was very supportive and informative, and took time to pray with us before I was, literally, rolled away.<br /><br />I have noted before how utterly helpless and vulnerable one can feel from the vantage point of an operating table...when something is amiss with oneself and youu have no choice but to look up into the faces of everyone else as they look down at you, somewhat ominously. So, there was a bit of a comfort factor to recognize her eyes above one of the several blue surgical masks in the room, as well as spying the surgeon. Due to the miracles of modern anesthesiology, the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room, trying to 'come to.' <br /><br />Now, on to the non-highlights, which occurred before surgery. First of all, it is not dreadful, but certainly not delightful to have oneself 'graffittied' with a Sharpie pen to ensure that the correct anatomical region is matched with the correct doctor, etc. But, better safe than sorry. I presume this logic also underlies the quick audio recording that was made in the surgical suite just before it's 'lights out' for the patient: "Would you please give us your name? Your date of birth? And what are you here for, Kathleen?"<br /><br />A little surreal, but not pointless.<br /><br />However, BEYOND surreal, and --literally pointless--was the Medical Supply [and I use the term loosely] employed following my needle localization procedure. Since it's not likely that the general reader is familiar with this, I will briefly summarize. Needle localization involves having an ultrasound technician locate with a transponder the area of tissue, etc. that will comprise the surgery site. Once the appropriate area appears on the ultrasound screen, a radiologist then mysteriously appears with Lidocaine and a specially wired needle. <br /><br />Using the ultrasound as a visual guide, he then inserts the needle into the target area and magically injects a fish-hook type device therein, which acts as a physical marker. Because of the hook feature, it is stablized in the site. Try to think of this as something other than human.<br /><br />Here, however, is where the production value of this scenario plummets. So outlandish was it, that it never occurred to me how truly crude it would be.<br /><br />Allow me to illustrate.<br /><br /><strong>What I Was Told:</strong> "Following the needle localization, they will cover the area with a cup, and then cover you, so can preserve a little modesty."<br /><br /><strong>What I Imagined: </strong>After deporting myself as maturely as I could during this small ordeal, I would be helped into a sitting position and have my left breast comfortably and discreetly covered with a smooth, sterile, and hopefully warm vessel, similar to a dessert cup. Not that this would be on the top of my list of Fun Adventures, but still, better than..<br /><br /><strong>What Actually Happened:</strong> I squiggled myself into an upright position on the table, trying to keep track of the single flannel blanket and numerous crinkly paper sheets. While thus engaged, I realized that the gleaming wire now protruding from my stern was rather hard to ignore, and yet not anything I wanted to fixate on. But, oh well, at least I would soon have my comfy cup to preserve my last shred of modesty. <br /><br />Um, no. You could be forgiven for thinking, as did I, that the technician was making a weak attempt at humor when she reached for a paper drinking cup...the fountain size. However, this was not humorous. It was not expected. It was not appreciated. However, I have no doubt it WAS cost-effective. <br /><br />As I watched, my mouth agape, this competent young woman proceeded to fold down strips of the paper cup rim into makeshift flanges...emphasis on 'shift.' Because they did. During downtime, someone had carefully snipped 8 or so cuts in the rim of the cup, extending down about an inch or two. It was then supposed that she would simultaneously hold, fold, and tape this paper catastrophe to my reluctant chest....suffice it to say, I had to hold the cup in place myself. However, I was mistaken in believing I would be covering any sensitive parts of my own anatomy...I was left 'hanging out' while the localization needle was carefully encased in a mutilated soda cup.<br /><br />Interestingly, as part of a new patient satisfaction scheme(I assume), during my initial assessment, I was asked to read five 'value' words on a whiteboard, and to indicate which was the most important to me during my 'hospital experience.' I don't recall all five, but they were along the lines of 'friendliness,' 'feeling respected,' etc. I chose 'professional skills of caregivers.' <br /><br />But, had I known then what I know now...I might have suggested they scale back the award-winning architectural details in the hosptial concourse and splurge on sensible and appropriate procedural supplies. Going through this adventure again is definitely NOT on my bucket list.Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351843846685806623.post-66921372819387238092011-04-14T19:50:00.000-07:002011-04-14T20:08:20.310-07:00A Memorable MileThis evening, dear readers, it is my high privilege to be the first to interview Mr. J. Daniel, one-mile runner.<br /><br />Editor: Mr. Daniel, to what do we owe this auspicious opportunity?<br /><br />JD: Well, it's not THAT important...I mean, all it is is a mile run. I mean, people have done it before.<br /><br />Ed: Well, point taken, but please tell us about YOUR experience this morning.<br /><br />JD: Well, we went to the neighborhood of my dear friend, David Hook, a fellow Loves Park resident. He has this pond in the front of his subdivision, and we did the mile around that.<br /><br />Ed: Um, so why did you do that? Run a mile around a pond, I mean...<br /><br />JD: Oh, oh...well, see, every year, our School does the mile run as part of our P.E. They sort of put us up to it, you could say.<br /><br />Ed: Ah! Well, give grown-ups a little power and there's no telling where it can lead...<br /><br />JD: I suppose so, but, hey, what are you gonna do?<br /><br />Ed: Quite.<br /><br />JD: Not everyone had to run the whole mile. They give the little kids a break because, well, I guess because they're still little. Life is easier when you're little. But, being a teenager myself, I had to run the whole mile.<br /><br />Ed: So, how did it go?<br /><br />JD: It was sorta long, because we had to do it three and a half times around the pond...and it was really COLD and windy...that was one of the disadvantages...<br /><br />My sister Cecily, poor kid, also had to run the whole mile because she is 10...and her legs ARE getting kind of long. But still, it was brutal.<br /><br />Ed: So, how many laps did you older kids have to run?<br /><br />JD: A dreadful three and a half miles!!!<br /><br />Ed: But, unconfirmed reports mentioned that there were some faithful, hardy moms shivering under blankets to cheer you all on!<br /><br />JD: Whatever. That didn't really help because they just kept standing still. We were the ones doing the pain!<br /><br />Ed: Hmmmm....well, OK. Were you running against the wind, or did you have the wind at your back?<br /><br />JD: Well, since it was kind of round, on one side the wind was behind us pushing us, but like all good things, it didn't last, because we would turn the corner and have the wind blast us in the face. It was hard to keep your balance.<br /><br />Ed: Gracious! How did you manage?!<br /><br />JD: Well, I did it...you just do it, ya know?<br /><br />Ed: Did everyone finish well?<br /><br />JD: Well, that's kind of in the perspective of the other people. Everyone was kind of lying in the grass and dying and stuff. There were a couple of kids who couldn't finish...or they didn't persist enough. Really, we were running against ourselves, not against each other. Well, I gotta go brush my teeth, so I'll see ya around.<br /><br />Ed: But, Mr. Daniel, I don't think we're quite done here....Mr. Daniel...???Kateye's Percolatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761006478820541771noreply@blogger.com0