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Empire State Building Is Lighted Muslim Green

Today, the Empire State Building is lighted green!


Tell me why I should not be outraged! The very group–Muslims— who blazed these buildings into oblivion a mere 6 years ago, taking 3000 human souls with them, are being honored this weekend.

Where? In our foremost metropolis–New York City, itself.

Where? Take a look. Gaze into that place there…there…that hole, that void, the spot where before rose the stately Twin Towers. That’s where. And tonight, a stone’s throw away, our American Empire State Building has gone green in honor of Ramadan. from Jon Zucker

When I first read this story, I perceived my brain as having a lapse, thinking such a tale could in no way be true. I blinked, took a breath, and sadly knew it was so.
Think about it. During the Second World War, would there have been any city–name one if you can–who would have remotely considered the raising of Swastika riddled flag in any United States parade–in observation of any holiday–at any time? No, of course not. The thought is preposterous.

Six years ago we watched in agonized horror as those blazing buildings melted and imploded. Indelibly etched in a dark corner of our brains are images of human bodies as, to escape the licking flames, they hurled themselves hundreds of feet to their ghastly deaths. We’ve heard the screams of trapped men as they made final 911 calls. Think about it. On that dreadful day as we watched and listened, could we possibly have thought that today, six years later, we would light the Empire State Building so as to honor Ramadan? It’s unthinkable.

Who are we America? Are we now a nation of cowards? Is there no one who can stop this nonsense?

Do I hear something? Could that be a faint clanking of bonds? The light sound of chains as they slip gently but surely around our complacent, weak necks?


My devotional blog is here.

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Anguish and Forgiveness

To plumb the depths of a person and there find pristine virtue and untarnished valor is rare, seldom sighted among us, notable because of its infrequent reality. To detect its presence in a lighted eye neath the furrow of sincere brow, to catch a drift of telling word and its corroborating moves–moves that signal not only the philosophy, but the exhibition of this thing called forgiveness, is an almost unknown factor in our jaded society. I mean real forgiveness, gut-wrenching forgiveness, ghastly forgiveness. Forgiveness that stops the world, that snaps to attention the heads of men and women across the globe. It matters not our divergence, our cut, our color or our class…for when we see it and hear it and know it, we understand that we are seeing, hearing and knowing God. It’s that rare.

The Nickel Mines Amish did it. They showed us Forgiveness. Awful forgiveness, anguished forgiveness, bloody forgiveness.

Recall that just over a year ago these Amish people–a religious group who lived in Nickel Mines, Pa. on farms without electricity and other modern conveniences had their lives splintered into untold agony when a person who lived in the area, their milkman, Charles Roberts, burst into a one-room schoolhouse, and shot ten young girls. Five of them died. Unbelievably, during these atrocious actions, one of the girls, 13-year-old Marian Fisher, offered to be killed first, thinking perhaps the others would be saved. The most telling of all is that within hours of the murders, these beautiful Amish people–the families of the slain children–not only spoke of forgiving Charles Roberts, but visited his wife and children and gave them food and money.

Picture and the following from the Pittsburg Post Gazette

Horrified strangers worldwide sent $4.3 million to the Nickel Mines Amish settlement in Bart, Lancaster County. But the Amish, who have no insurance, used the gifts for more than medical bills.

They gave shares to local emergency services that came to their aid and, in a move that caught the world’s imagination, to the widow and children of the man who murdered their daughters.

“It certainly means a lot for us to spend some time with the families,” Miller said after their meeting together on the anniversary of the shooting. “There’s no other place we would have rather been this morning.”

Also attending were community members, state troopers and officials from Virginia Tech, where a gunman killed 32 students and faculty members in April, Miller said.

Though grateful for all the help and sympathy it has received, the Amish community is hoping to be left alone as much as possible Tuesday during the actual anniversary of the shootings.

The New Hope Amish School, which replaced the one torn down after the attack, was closed Monday and will remain shut Tuesday.

Read more here.

Now consider this–also from the Pittsburg Post Gazette

Not everyone affirms the Amish response.

Rabbi Alvin Berkun, rabbi emeritus of Tree of Life Congregation, Squirrel Hill, and president of the Rabbinical Assembly, the international organization of Conservative Rabbis, applauds the Amish care for Amy Roberts, but not their forgiveness of Charles Roberts.

“In Judaism, there are some strings attached. I have to say I’m sorry for what I did, I have to resolve not to repeat that pattern of behavior again and I have to ask those I harmed to forgive me,” he said.

“Letting somebody off the hook even though they are dead doesn’t sit well with me. Society can’t function when you just wipe the slate clean constantly. He did a horrendous, horrendous thing and he did absolutely nothing to repent.”

This post was difficult for me to put together, and I truly can say as I finish here, that from the skin of my body to my inward parts, I am shaken, and at this moment physically tremble. I knew when I broached the subject it would be difficult. For in trying to be honest with myself, I wonder…I truly wonder…could I forgive such an assault on my family as did the Amish in Nickel Springs? Am I that Godly? If I’m not, why not? Is such forgiveness indeed Godliness?

What about you? Do you have it within you to exhibit such a sterling quality? Have you been challenged in your resolve to forgive those who wrong you? Ever had to extend forgiveness when it really hurt, when it caused anguish? Do you perhaps agree with Rabbi Berkun that forgiveness in this instance is misplaced?


My devotional blog is here.

Bible Christianity/Religion Culture Death My Family Social The World

Death Masks, Caskets and Cremation

Statue of Patrician With Death MasksThe first time I ever saw a “death mask” was at a junior youth camp in southern California where, after the youngsters were in bed, some of the the faculty were having a bit of fun. A person would stretch out on a table, and some kind of preparation was applied to the “candidate’s” face, which material was then allowed to dry and to harden. I believe holes were poked in the nose and mouth area, so that the youth camp worker would continue breathing–a desirable trait, seeing this was a “death mask” demonstration in fun only.
I began thinking of such a subject earlier today, when I read an extremely captivating and informative article about 10 exotic burial places. My interest was piqued to such degree that this actually became the basis for my devotional today.
Credit for Clipart and more material about Roman burials here.
My study about this subject today prompts me to ask how you feel about burial methods? Would you consider being cremated? Why? Why not? Do you know of any scripture that would preclude such a burial? Does it bother you to consider being buried under the earth? Is a mausoleum more to your liking?…or does it matter at all? What about casket style and expense? My feeling is that I really don’t personally care, for I don’t believe I will know a thing about it. It’s okay with me that my family’s thoughts should be the determining factor for my funeral.
I really don’t care about seeing casket stores in strip malls, though. Although I acknowledge there to be nothing wrong with the idea, and I’ve heard you can get caskets cheaper there than at funeral homes, it’s just a bit disconcerting to see them. Get Your Bargain Casket Here!
This is an interesting chart–a little outdated, but you can check the state where you live and see the percentage of people who choose to be cremated. In my personal experience it seems to me that more people are choosing cremation than ever before. Has the fact that funeral expenses have been so exorbitantly priced caused this trend?

Map of US Cremation Rates

Don’t worry. I’m feeling quite healthy…just found all this interesting today!

Edit: There may be some “spooky” spirits lurking here. Something–or someone– has changed my font style, and I absolutely cannot get the paragraphs right. When I view the post on my screen it looks perfect. (Halloween may be early!) Another thing. I’ve posted tags twice and they always are stripped out. I’ll try again now. Hope it’s not contagious…else all WordPress will shudder.


My devotional blog is here.

Animals California Courage Death Photography Social The World

A Dog Story

Nothing grips us as does a situation in which someone gives his life to save another’s, and when the saviour is seen to be a small dog, and when we understand he was protecting little children, few hearts remain untouched. Enter George, a plucky Russell Terrier, who was mortally wounded as he leaped between two marauding pit bulls and five youngsters. Called by AP as “vicious attack machines with steel-trap jaws and razor-sharp teeth,” George nevertheless fought them off and in the process was mutilated to such degree that the veterinarian to whom he was taken described the wounds as being the worst he had even seen. George must be put down. And so five children are alive and safe and George, the plucky Russell Terrier is dead. The pit bulls are locked away.

AP and Fox News


WELLINGTON, New Zealand — This is a dog story.

It’s about a plucky little Jack Russell terrier named George, who stood like a giant against two marauding pit bulls and gave his own life to save five kids from the steel-trap jaws and razor-sharp teeth of the vicious attack machines.

Local officials say it’s also a story about the people who trained the pit bulls to kill and who may have fed the animals methamphetamines to make them even more deadly.

The tragedy unfolded Sunday afternoon on New Zealand’s North Island, in the town of Manaia, where a group of children — and George — were walking back from a trip to the candy store.

The rest of the story is here.

I’m wondering if all of you are as taken with dogs as I am–especially heroic ones such as George. I love all kinds of animals, but there’s just something about a dog and its relationship to people that seems especially dear. When I was a youngster, I read many dog story books–especially the Lassie and Laddie series. I can recall often walking home from school, reading as I walked, fairly engrossed in what often was a story of a boy and his dog. Jerry tells of the first time he read Where the Red Fern Grows. He was an adult, yet at the book’s conclusion, he cried.

My heart is touched this morning by the bravery of George, the Russell Terrier from New Zealand. The parents of the children he spared will never forget the priceless gift he gave them. I wouldn’t be surprised if his small grave is often visited by five little people, their parents and their friends, and that flowers and doggy treats and pictures are laid there. It is fitting.


My devotional blog is here.

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Durango Vacation Journal Part 14

Thursday was our last full day of vacation in Durango, and around 10:30 Berl and Lavelta and Jerry and I were off to Silverton where we would meet up with Sue and Wes and Susan and Stan. Smedley’s Coffee Shop was the first stop in Silverton, although I didn’t have another cup. I’m not fond of forming a ladies lounge behind trees or wide bushes, so I’ve made it a habit to keep the liquids at a minimum when we’re to be out on the trails. Jerry brought out a cinnamon roll with his coffee and I shared a couple of nibbles. I thought we were ready to leave, but Sue wanted to go into one of the shops and buy a tee shirt that read, I Survived Black Bear. I don’t blame her. I’d wear one too. While they shopped and Jerry finished up the roll, I took pictures—all within one side of a block. This picture of a blue window in an aging brick building may be one of my all-time favorites.


View Shirley Buxton’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

The trail—Araastatus–was judged to be a 4, and is the most difficult we’ve traveled yet. It ended at the Mayflower Mine. Sue and Susan began digging around among the relics and I soon joined them, for they said it was okay here. The county or the state is wanting this debris cleared out, but I wish they wouldn’t do that, but instead would just leave the historic mines in place. Berl found an old light socket I could have, pitched it out, but when I was at the top I could not find it. I brought out six rusted springs—couple inches long that were fastened onto a bed frame I “discovered.”

A couple of gentlemen, tourists from Illinois, had joined us at the mine and were poking around as were we. One quite elderly man told us: “I found this place a few days ago and wanted my buddy to see it.” They had ridden 4-wheel ATVs to the top.

Exploring over, chairs and snacks were brought out, then it was time to head back. In my estimation, downhill is the scariest part of wilderness 4-wheeling. But we made it without a hitch, though one place required such a tight turn, that with our long wheel base, Jerry had to back up to make it. I got out to be sure he didn’t back too far.

Last year on one of these trails a family went over the side, killing them all. The story is that the dad thought he had the car in reverse, but instead drove forward. We had been told this story and I saw Jerry deliberately staring at the gear shift. Reverse! Yes!

The other six went on to another mining trail, and Jerry and I headed to Animas Forks. We took the lower trail that runs along the Animas River, and it was so beautiful. I know my sweet camera has captured some lovely scenes, but nothing really compares to actually being in such places. The human eye is far superior to the finest glass in any caliber camera. The live scene is enhanced by the trickling sound of small water and the roar of a major fall, and birds who sing and flit about and floating butterflies and bees who buzz. The scent of flower and weed and of animal and of history and of the moment meld into a vision which cannot be captured.


View Shirley Buxton’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

Animas Forks is an intriguing mining place in which several buildings still stand. I walked into one of the houses and took pictures from its window openings. As I always do in these settings, I tried to image the families who lived here, who worked so hard, who mined and reared families, who planned and focused and dreamed. And somewhere in the vast jaws of eternity they still exist…, awaiting the judgment of God.

We were all to meet back in Silverton, so after a while in Animas we headed back. Just as we approached Silverton, a Jeep pulled from a side road, and we fell in place behind the vehicle.

“I think that’s Berl,” Jerry said.

In the silver Jeep, Berl said. “I think that’s Jerry.

Sure enough, we had encountered the others at the precise moment that enabled us to take our place in the 4-Jeep parade. “It’s a miracle,” we proclaimed later. “A modern day miracle!” we spoofed.

We left the others and with Berl and Lavelta went to Black Bear Cafe for dinner. I didn’t notice the sign, but Jerry did, and it read CLOSED for certain hours. But the door was open and the waitress said, “Sit anywhere you’d like.” We ordered drinks, but no one brought menus. Then another waitress came with a clipboard saying, “Sign here. It’s $3.00 a person and put a dollar each in the middle of the table for a tip.”

We must have looked puzzled, for she added. “This is Senior night.” Seems each Thursday night the restaurant serves a low-cost meal to any senior. There were 20-30 people in the cafe when we were there. “During the winter about 10 come for the meal,” she told us.

“Does the restaurant provide the food?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “and the State helps out.”

Seems it started many years ago, when in Silverton there was only one or two places open during the winter months. The year-round population is now around 500, but still only a few of the businesses remain open 12 months a year.

For $4.00 each we were served a tasty meal: Delicious split pea soup, roast brisket, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, a loaf of warm bread and lots of butter. The dessert was passed helter-skelter. I drew apple pie. Can’t remember ever tasting better. Jerry’s apple pie had a few berries mixed in. Lavelta was served cheese cake, and Berl had a piece of apple pie with a three-berry mixture stirred in. It was a fine meal. It was the LAST SUPPER of our Durango vacation.


My devotional blog is here.

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Durango Vacation Journal Part 10

Ramp to a Tunnel, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

This beautiful and “easy-walking” ramp led Jerry and me to the visitor center at Mesa Verde National Park, home of 4,500 archeological sites; 600 of which are cliff dwellings. We examined the displays, read history notes, and perused the listings of the tours that are available. We decided to hike to the Spruce Tree House, and to engage in some of the road tours. (Many pictures in the linked article.)

It was about ten years ago that we first visited Mesa Verde, and even before we arrived at the visitor center today we saw there had been significant change and presumed the ravaged acres must have been the result of wildfires. Inside the visitor’s center, a large poster told of the devastating and extensive fires in recent years, and a few minutes ago when I checked for further information on these fires, I confirmed that during the last seven years, five raging wildfires have burned over fifty percent of the land at Mesa Verde. Fortunately, very few historic dwellings were damaged.


View Shirley Buxton’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

The weather, as has been usual since we’ve been here in Colorado, was perfect–the skies strikingly beautiful. This circular rail leads to the main entrance of the visitor’s center. According to anthropologists and historians, Mesa Verde is the home of the Ancestral Puebloans, and the cliff dwellings and mesa-top villages here were built between A.D 450 and 1300.

Mesa Verde is a World Cultural Heritage Park, a designation granted by UNESCO to preserve and protect the cultural and national heritage of certain international sites. Mesa Verde has also been selected the #1 historic monument in the world by readers of Conde Nast Traveler, and was chosen by National Geographic Traveler as one of the “50 places of a Lifetime–The World’s Greatest Destinations.”

The Ancestral Puebloans created a thriving populous civilization that eventually raised towers and built hundred-room cities into the cliffs of Mesa Verde. There are thousands of sites in the area, earning Mesa Verde Country® the honor of being North America’s richest archaeological area. Many sites are open to the public for visitation, and there are local museums and institutions dedicated to exploring and interpreting this culture and archaeology. The most famous of these is award-winning Mesa Verde National Park, but visiting others provides a deeper look into the fascinating culture of the Ancestral Pueblo People.

Information taken from Mesa Verde official web site.

It is an astonishing place, and when I view those dwellings and think of the scores of families who lived here, and the extreme difficulties under which they labored, I am impressed with their fortitude, grit and intelligence. I do not understand how they lived in such places. They had to carry their water up to the cliff dwellings, and they farmed on the mesas above their homes. It’s just incredible.

Take a look at this view of one of the cliff dwellings and you can imagine how difficult their life must have been.

Suddenly, they were gone. By about 1300 Mesa Verde was deserted. Several theories are extended, but despite significant study and intense investigation no one actually knows what happened to these people. The history of Mesa Verde and its people is exhaustive–much too entailed for examination within this blog. I believe you will find it a fascinating study if you choose to delve into the history of these marvelous people.


The hike to the Spruce Tree House was a quarter of a mile, and was a fairly steep descent. We took it slowly, and almost immediately I saw very large birds in a tree across the canyon. Everyone was pointing and taking pictures, and someone said they were eagles. I was excited, snapped lots of pictures, then a ranger came by and told us the birds were not eagles, but were turkey vultures. Oh, well, they’re big and pretty. We did well hiking up, too, but we should have taken water with us. It was rather hot.

This is astonishing, I thought, as I stood here and photographed the living place of a mysterious, long-vanished people. What happened to them? Where did they go? Why did they leave?


My devotional blog is here.Includes a 9/11 tribute





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Durango Vacation Journal Part 7

Butterfly on Minnie’s Gulch, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

“They’re pretty easy ones,” Berl had told us yesterday, then he described a couple of routes, and Jerry was the one that made the decision. We would go four-wheeling today, traveling out of Silverton, first on Maggie’s Gulch, then on to Minnie’s Gulch. (These links provide interesting material, along with maps and several pictures )

Although we have a Jeep, it is a Grand Cherokee, which sets lower to the ground than does a Wrangler, and besides it’s our only car, so understandably Jerry is a little cautious about taking our vehicle four-wheeling. But we’ve done it before…and we did it today…and I wish I could tell you how wonderful it is. Jerry and I engaged in our first “Jeeping” trip a few years ago and it was such fun, I wish we had taken this up when we were younger. It’s an absolute blast!

Silverton is about 45 minutes from our RV park, setting high in the San Juan Mountains at nearly 10,000 feet. We approached the town on Highway 550, called appropriately enough The Million Dollar Highway. Around a sharp bend, after a long, steep descent, off to the right, straight down it seems, is the town of Silverton. We drove slowly through the charming place (We are planning to spend one complete day in Silverton before we leave, so I’ll tell you more about the town then.) and out the other side and soon were at the sign that read, Maggie’s Gulch.

In his Jeep Rubicon, Berl led the way up the rocky trail, which immediately took a sharp ascent, Jerry and I following behind in our Cherokee which performed splendidly. People who go four-wheeling view sights that others will never see. Vistas open to reveal secrets of river, stream, lake, mountain and wild life. Remnants of those who forged new life in the wilderness areas of our country are cached within hidden valleys and meadows. Abandoned houses and mines and mills in barely accessible places speak of incredible strength, vision, and perseverance.


View Shirley Buxton’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

At the Intersection Mill and Mine, yet stand stamps and wheels and pulleys. I am amazed that, without modern transportation devices such as we have, such structures were transported to these areas ten, eleven, twelve thousand feet in elevation. People lived, worked and died here; here where some areas receive more than 200 inches of snow annually. It’s incredible.

After we had eaten a snack, we poked around in the mine area, then LaVelta found a skull and a scattering of bones that Jerry thinks might be a wolf. Is he right, any carcass experts who may be out there? I thought it looked kind of interesting, and so that I could get a good shot, I propped the white boney head on a stone.

We could have stayed all day in Maggie’s Gulch, but there was yet Minnie’s, so we turned around, and ran the descent. Minnie was a short distance away, and after a break we turned upward again toward Minnie’s Gulch. It was a spectacular drive, Minnie Creek lies far below on the valley floor, and there are numerous Aspens on this trail. A few leaves had lit their spectacular golden lights, and they glittered now in autumn’s breeze. It was at our first stop at the Caledonia Mill foundations that LaVelta and I spied a beautiful butterfly–whose portrait you see at the top of this page.

LaVelta’s nickname is Dovie. Take a close look and you will see this is her cabin. It was so funny. There is furniture in this house, table, chairs, broom, floral paper on the walls, a ladder and a loft. We were intrigued as we poked around, where long ago, someone had a regular ordinary life. A family probably reared children there, and cooked and read and dreamed.

Further down the road from the mine was a two-story fairly well preserved building, that we learned had been a boarding house. Across the road and down a bit was the superintendent’s house. It is in a state of near-collapse, but one part appears strong and invincible. We looked through a window opening and saw a large metal safe–about the size of a refrigerator–and concluded he must have stored some of the silver in there. The outside wall up against the safe is cemented over to secure the heavy piece.

Once Berl stopped his car, and I looked ahead. “I think there’s a bird in the road, Jerry.” But when I looked again I did not see it, then suddenly I saw a huge wing fling up out of the grass at the road’s edge. I moved from the car and walked quietly down the road for I could see Berl was standing out with his camera, and I did not want to frighten away the bird. But he motioned me on, and together we looked and saw a large bird–probably a hawk– who lay wounded in the grass. We both took pictures but didn’t stay long. “He was in the road drinking water,” Berl said, “then he staggered over here. We need to be sure we don’t drive him from the water.”

Jerry and Berl had discussed the possibility of meeting a car coming the opposite direction. The roads are only one lane, and there are sheer drop-offs–hundreds of feet down to the valley floor. No protective rails, of course. Well, it happened. We met a large pick-up truck, and it took some maneuvering. The truck was coming up and had the right of way. Both Berl and Jerry had to drive high onto the mountain side, and the driver of the truck was literally on the cliff-side edge. Our mirrors barely cleared as he passed, and he grinned and spoke, “Little skinny here, isn’t it?”

And then we were down, having traveled to an altitude of 11,500 this afternoon. We trekked back into Silverton, parked in front of Brown Bear Cafe, and had dinner. They tell me the building is more than 100 years old. As we returned to Durango, a doe stood quietly at the edge of 550, perhaps a mate to the young buck I had seen in the morning. She eyed me as we passed.


My devotional is here.


Death Grief Medical/Technical Photography Science & Technology Social

Hypochrondriacs Always Die

I once knew a lady who, I think, was a hypochrondriac--always sick, frequently being injured. She grew older, and one day she died.


It’s a strange deviation from normal thinking, but there are many people who enjoy illness. Some are so terribly sick that they are fond of having operations, and somehow deceive their doctors into having multiple surgeries. Some have even been known to have operations in order to receive cash payments.

(I found this cute drawing on somebody’s blog, but I can’t seem to get back there to acknowledge its source.)

I Told You I Was Sick

(This picture from Zooomr is public.)

Well, got anybody around your house today with a sore throat or a gimp in their back parts–take care of them. They might up and die on you.


My devotional blog is here.

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Sensational Parenting Notes

The world today is replete with distinctive news of parents. In England, of course, was the touching anniversary memorial service for Princess Diana, where her younger son euologized her as “the best mother in the world.”

LONDON — Princess Diana’s family solemnly marked the 10th anniversary of her death Friday, with her younger son eulogizing her as “the best mother in the world.”

The bishop of London used his sermon at a memorial service to call for an end to the sniping between Diana’s fans and detractors, and a priest who has led an annual remembrance said it may now be time to let go.

“To lose a parent so suddenly at such a young age, as others have experienced, is indescribably shocking and sad,” Prince Harry said at the memorial service at the Guards’ Chapel near Buckingham Palace.

“It was an event which changed our lives forever, as it must have done for everyone who lost someone that night,” said Harry, who was 12 when Diana died.


Then there’s this Associated Press story from Alaska.

FAIRBANKS, Alaska — A father who was too drunk to drive had his 11-year-old son drive him home, police in Fairbanks, Alaska, said.

Police stopped the boy late Tuesday after he was seen driving the wrong way on a one-way street in his father’s 1992 Chevy pick-up truck.

The boy’s father, Frank Neff, 35, of Fairbanks, was too drunk to drive and had told the child to drive them home, authorities said.

Neff pleaded no contest to charges of reckless endangerment and contributing to the delinquency of a minor in connection with the incident. He was ordered to spend 15 days in jail and to take parenting classes.

He told police he’s been teaching his son to drive since he was 8 years old.


This one tops them all.

Holly Schnobrich

Mother-of-two Holly Schnobrich knew she was too drunk to get behind the wheel of her car.

But her judgment was so clouded by drink and drugs that she asked her five-year-old son to be the designated driver.

After her 2002 Mitsubishi screeched to a halt outside her house, Miss Schnobrich even boasted to a worried neighbour: “He’s a good driver.”

But when five-year-old Weston Schnobrich was quizzed by police he was forced to admit he was “having a hard time because I can’t reach the pedals”.

The 24-year-old mother is now behind bars in Lafayette, Indiana, charged with child endangerment and public intoxication.


My devotional blog is here.


Christianity/Religion Courage Death Grief Photography Social The World Travel

Escaped by the “Skin of Their Teeth”

Amazing. Today I learned of two incredible escapes from almost certain death and destruction


TOKYO — A China Airlines jet exploded into flames at an airport in Okinawa after arriving from Taiwan on Monday, but all 165 people aboard escaped alive, officials said. Police said terrorism was not suspected.

All 157 passengers — including two small children— fled the Boeing 737 unhurt on inflated emergency slides just minutes before the plane burst into a fireball, Transport Ministry official Akihiko Tamura told reporters.

Look at that picture. Amazingly, no one was hurt.

As we sat at lunch today with people from our church, Janey told us that one of her relatives–a nephew, I believe–was part of the crew that is still missing deep inside the mine in Utah. The Monday of the accident, he had taken the day off.

Sad and gripping stories abound. Mixed in with death and dying scenarios, though, are happy accounts. Have you thought much about such escapes as these? Did God cause Janey’s relative to have that particular day off? If we answer yes, I suppose we must question God’s plans for the others–the ones who are missing. Can it be that God would spare one of the crew, and deliberately leave the others as the mine crashed in on them? Or is it chance? Mere chance? Huh? What do you think?


My devotional blog is here.


My devotional is here.