When the leaves change and the temperature dips, we’re ready for kitchen comforts. As November arrives, we’re on the threshold of Christmas sweets and treats, but here’s an idea from my kids’ preschool. I bought their little recipe book way back when I was still stepping on Legos and Barbie shoes in the middle of the night. It is a small collection of healthy snacks they served there – twenty sheets of paper unglamorously stapled together at the upper left corner. The recipe I share today is a riff off of one of those well-loved snacks. I often add my own twist to recipes I love. It seemed to me the extras only serve to make it more fun. We eat it as cereal, mostly, but it can be sprinkled on ice cream or yogurt or even made into bars.
Homemade Granola
3 cups rolled oats 1/2 – 1 cup sesame seeds
3 cups rolled wheat 1/2 – 1 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup wheat germ 1/2 – 1 cup unsweetened coconut
1/2 teaspoon salt 1/4 – 1 cup bran
1/2 – 1 cup walnuts, pecans, or your choice
Mix well and add: 3/4 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup honey
2 teaspoons vanilla
Bake at 350 degrees for 30 – 40 minutes, stirring once.
After baking, add dried cranberries or raisins.
Store in refrigerator.
For Bars: 3 c. granola, 2/3 c. peanut butter, 1/3 c. honey. Press into pan and store in refrigerator.
Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!
It was as I was in the midst of looking up whether putting up a Christmas tree in some way broke the Sabbath that I realized it was, yes, quite possible learning to celebrate the Sabbath would actually be a process; and amusement would be part of it, at least for me.
If you grew up in the church and you and your family members were actively involved, you might admit that though we regarded Sundays as our Sabbath, they were not a day of rest. This bothered me for a very long time until I finally decided to not fight the busyness of being an active church member on Sundays and to honor the Sabbath Day as it had been in the Old Testament: on Saturday. So began a lovely discovery.
You see, if I was to actually rest on Saturday, that meant I would need to get all of my work done before then, and that meant that procrastination was not the happy-go-lucky, jokey, old friend it normally was. At first, I piled most things onto Friday. By the time sundown rolled around I was exhausted. So then I began to parcel the work out so that poor Friday wouldn’t end up looking like a frothing horse galloping the last mile of the pony express. It worked! And do you know what? I actually got more done than I usually did. I found extra little things to do that I might’ve otherwise left alone. I cleaned closets – that sort of thing. And then the Sabbath! Ahhh!
But there are times when doing something which disrupts the Sabbath rest seems very important. It is those times I’ve learned to lean on several marker stones given in the Bible. First, my memory is drawn to the women after the crucifixion of Jesus. And though preparing His body must’ve seemed paramount, what did they do? They waited that extra day because it was the Sabbath. What honorable examples to us they are! A second reference I lean on is when Jesus says, “Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” What a helpful thing to say! And when I must do work to help someone, I also remember what Jesus said as recorded in Luke: “And He said to them, “Which one of you will have a son or an ox fall into a well, and will not immediately pull him out on a Sabbath day?” His comment is so helpful.
Another perspective I remember is one of working out our own salvation with fear and trembling. That is to say, that shadow of things to come is given to us with a caution to not concern ourselves with someone else’s judgement of our efforts. And as one who is still (and let’s be honest – always will be) learning, I appreciate the permission given in that scripture.
I look forward to the Sabbath every single week. It’s like a mini vacation! And if something is amiss – too bad. It’s the Sabbath. I’m resting. Zero guilt.
When God instituted the Sabbath (Genesis 2:2, Exodus 20:8-11, Leviticus 23:3, Deuteronomy 5:14), He was showing us the loveliness of balance and enjoyment. But He also holds out a promise for the future when we read “There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God.” It seems to me it will be a beautiful time of relishing the gloriousness of our Creator in His perfect creation. I, myself, picture myself surrounded by nature without a storm in sight. My little holiday every week is a sweet little taste of the delight to come. Join me!
The hair-raising creep of a scary story, the unexpected jolt, the chill that follows you around afterward: I used to like writing such stories. Reading, not so much. I am, at heart, a cowardly lion. But writing them? Great fun, because I controlled what was said and where the story landed. I think I still would enjoy writing them if I allowed myself. Maybe some day.
Check back in my archives in October (and July of 2014 and again in 2016 I wrote some fun ones), and you will find the type of story I mean. I don’t care for bloodcurdling scenarios, but more of a teaser. Some things are best left to imagination, and I trust readers to fill gaps better than I would. I think the last one I wrote on this blog was a few years ago. https://www.myfiresidechat.com/2017/10/30/who-was-counting/ But I must confess it doesn’t hold the same appeal when you’re actually living in the most dystopian times you’d never imagined.
When you learn that most of every company and industry of every type in every part of the world is owned by a select few, and those select few relish the trillions of dollars made by those companies and industries – money made by people aware and others unaware; and they plan a future of not simply regulating financial institutions but companies and individuals – including salaries, 401ks, and access; and your knowledge of trafficking drugs, children, women, and young men increases to understanding that it isn’t just drugs and sex but hearts, lungs, and livers; and expands even more to the torture endured by countless unfortunates for the pleasure and power of satanic sacrifice; and you see through recent experience how subtle and not so subtle changes can lead trusting people to cover their face like they used to do to slaves and in ritualistic practices, likewise stand six feet apart, and lead some to be injected with chemicals poorly understood and obsessively supported by the aforementioned select few; and you unwillingly acknowledge that genocide isn’t relegated to the past; well then you finally see that scary stories are not limited to words on paper accompanied by hot cocoa and a cozy blanket.
No, this October I’ll leave scary stories to those who are still blind to the horror around them or who partake in it, themselves. Instead, I’ll break the darkness with light. 
Because, you see, no matter the times or situation, God is stronger. And He really loves us. And when we encounter the blackest night, He hands us a flashlight. Or a new idea to bring healing. Or He sends rescuers. Or, sometimes, He reaches down and does it, Himself. The letter writer of Colossians 1 put it this way:
. . . giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. . .
One more thing: All Saints Day is just around the corner.
https://lpeproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Peoples.Ledger.DRAFT_.pdf; https://rumble.com/vo6n5f-monopoly-who-owns-the-world-must-see.html; https://theminnesotasun.com/2021/10/08/world-renowned-psychiatrist-global-predators-fauci-gates-schwab-behind-the-covid-reign-of-terror/; Revelation 22:2; Images: httppixabay.comenanimal-autumn-background-bird-89182-public-domain.jpg; Nina-Hale-Flickr-C.-CC-by-2.0.png; 281-Bokeh-Free-Images-on-Pixabay.jpg
How far had she driven that morning? She wished she had paid closer attention to that little detail; but then she remembered the gloriousness of Fall that she had paid attention to and promptly forgave herself. Except. She gazed ahead at the road in front of her, briefly glanced back at the turnoff which had led to the hiking trails, and sighed. It was going to be a long hike home.
A car slowed behind her and stopped. She looked over her shoulder and saw a black Maserati.
“Do you need a lift?”
Should she answer or quicken her pace? The fleeting thought of racing a Maserati both amused and alarmed her.
“I,” she turned and found herself staring at a man near her age but clearly not her league.
She cleared her throat. “I was hiking and my car wouldn’t start.”
Great. Lovely explanation.
“I could try to start it.”
As she wondered how safe it would be to backtrack to a hiking trail with a stranger, he added, “Or I could give you a lift home.”
It is an inexorable fact of life that one choice always leads to another. She wished that just now her choice wasn’t between a proverbial rock and hard place. The sun was setting, and hiking along a deserted highway wasn’t remotely appealing even on this warm fall evening. Boring had its own appeal just now.
“I won’t hurt you and,” he squinted at the setting sun, “I hate the thought of you out here by yourself.”
She nodded, slid into the passenger seat, and directed him to the turnoff she’d taken earlier.
“It’s a beautiful evening – warm,” he remarked.
“With a whisper of cool.” She couldn’t seem to help herself.
He smiled. “I like that. Yes. A whisper of cool. Complementary features of Fall.”
He pulled up next to her car, jumped out, and looked under the Pontiac’s hood. Pulling a gadget from his pocket, he hooked it up to her car battery, waited a few minutes, and motioned for her to try the ignition. Her jaw dropped as her car roared to life. He smiled, waved, and pulled out ahead of her.
There really were angels who walked the earth, she thought as she neared her cozy, boring, beautiful duplex. She would make it home before night’s dark made fitting her key in the lock more a matter of touch than sight.
What?! Lights filled the other side of the duplex that had stood vacant for so long. Of all the days for her to have been gone. Someone must have moved into the attached unit. She grabbed her things and pulled a note from her screen as she unlocked her door. The note explained her landlord would be staying for an unspecified amount of time.
Landlord? Well at least she might put a face to the heretofore featureless recipient of her rent.
Apologies for missing my new neighbor, the note continued. Arrived later than anticipated. She studied the handwriting. The block letters suggested it wasn’t a little old lady who received her rent. Other than that, she couldn’t tell.
After making the first cocoa of the fall season and changing from hiking boots to fuzzy slippers, she peeked out her back window to the duplex garage. She used it only during winter months to save on rent. But she concluded with no car in the driveway, the landlord must’ve parked in the garage.
It was probably too late to go next door and introduce herself, but her curiosity got the better of her. What did he – or she – drive? A truck – maybe Chevy? Ford – probably. She opened the door a crack, then swung it wide. There it stood. A Maserati – black as the oncoming night and anything but boring.
Image: pexels-mike-977003-scaled.jpg
She kicked through the orange leaves, their crunchy response somehow reassuring. How far was it? Five miles? Yes, she thought, five or nearly that from her deserted car to who knew where. A balmy fall evening had wandered seamlessly into the dawn of what promised to be a replica of the day just past – warm with a whisper of cool undertones. How could she sit at home on such a day? So before the sun had barely announced it’s presence, she’d hopped in her old Pontiac. She’d tossed her favorite merino wool blanket into the back seat along with a turkey sandwich, an apple, and large bottle of water in an insulated lunch bag.
Just that week she’d been accused of being (gasp) boring. She knew she shouldn’t pay attention to an accusation coming from someone she barely knew. Who knew where that co-worker’s opinions came from? The worker’s own insecurities, no doubt. Still, it had bothered her enough to lead to the day’s impromptu outing. And, really, her usually preferred choice of sitting at home on her reclining lawn chair reading a book could stand a little shaking up. The little duplex she called home was a sanctuary to her, though. The other side of it hadn’t been rented for years which was just fine with her. In fact, she’d never laid eyes on her landlord. A rental company had shown her the place, and she simply mailed her rent each month to the address provided. The peace and quiet suited her.
The trees seemed almost luminescent as the sun’s rays nipped their red and yellow leaves. The miles had flown by on the untraveled country road, and she didn’t care. Why should she on such a day? She turned last minute toward what appeared to be some decent hiking trails. And they were. Decent. But a few miles’ hike was suddenly enough. She was ready for a quick picnic and drive back to the little duplex she called home. After all, anyone who thought she was boring didn’t know squat about her cozy sanctum.
She made quick work of her lunch, and turned her key in the ignition. Her car’s whine grew louder with each effort and then stopped altogether. She rubbed the tender spot where she’d bumped her head when she’d lifted the hood of the car and peered at the engine. Who was she kidding? She had no idea what to look for. Everything always looked the same when it came to cars. She squinted at the sun and guessed the time that was left before dusk.
to be continued . . .
Image: wikimediacommons.jpg; blanket: Pendleton-usa.com
There are people in nearly every circumstance who are the servants. They might not immediately stand out, but eventually we notice who they are by their dependable help. Are they born that way or do they cultivate that character? Or, perhaps, a little of both and more. In times of trial and trouble, they are the ones who keep going. They don’t throw up their hands in futility, rather they put one foot in front of the other every minute of every hour of every day.
What makes a person like that? Besides sterling character, one of my favorite authors would say it is hope. Victor Frankl said, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Being a Holocaust survivor he should know. He also cautioned:
“Those who know how close the connection is between the state of mind of a man, his courage and hope, or lack of them and the state of immunity of his body will understand that sudden loss of hope and courage can have a deadly effect.“
We, none of us, can know the future. When things are bright and pleasant, we imagine the same is ahead. Likewise, when we are in the middle of tough times, it can be easy to imagine only darkness in the coming days and years. And that’s where the importance of hope arises. It gives us just enough glimmer of light ahead to keep going; to keep putting one foot in front of the other. That glimmer can even help us recall better past days so that we can imagine brighter future ones.
Some people scoff at optimists. I’ve always wondered why someone would do that. But hope isn’t optimism. Maybe it’s just the knowledge that none of us knows the future, and that knowledge removes the certainty of dark days as surely as it nudges us to understand the road is never always straight, but, rather, turns here and there and even loops around. We keep on because one of those bends in the road might erupt into light and beauty. It didn’t happen at this turn? Maybe it will at the next.
There are a lot of choices in life. Among your selections, might I offer one? Choose hope.
Man’s Search for Meaning, 1946, by Viktor Frankl; Romans 5:1-5 (Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.); Image: pexels-gift-habeshaw-3415211
Back when the television show, Survivor, had its first season, our family was immediately hooked. The finale landed at a time we were on vacation in a little cabin. No problem. Despite limited reach, the tv got the channel we needed. Except it didn’t. That particular week, it didn’t get any channel. What to do? We could drive to the nearest town and watch it through the window of an unsuspecting Ace Hardware, but what if they didn’t have a tv in the window? Or if it was turned to a different channel?
My long-suffering husband used the better part of a day to drive back to our house and bring our little television to the rescue. We plugged it in and turned it on. Except it didn’t. No!!!
We were desperate. My husband now drove not a little distance to the closest town that could accommodate us with a very small portable television that ran on batteries. We were ready! The night of the finale we gathered around that little tv in great anticipation and watched as our least favorite contender won the whole thing. Nooooo!!!! And that, dear ones, has gone down in family lore as the time when. . . We try to comfort my husband by telling him at least he survived. Just between you and me, I’m not altogether sure he’s comforted or even ever got over it. Ah, life.
These days – ohhh, what should we call them? These unusual days? These anxiety-laden days? These help me I’m in a sci-fi horror show and I want out days? Whatever it is that you choose to call them, it would be prudent to think ahead just a bit and plan for just in case. You know. Like your mother used to tell you. Just in case you’re in a car accident. Just in case you’re at a party and you need a ride home. Just in case you get lost. (Although with GPS these days, I guess no one gets truly lost – at least to the overlords that know our every move.) Just in case you want to survive. Maybe it won’t happen. But just in case . . .
With the an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure attitude, here are some ideas for just in case prices go through the roof, food and gas are scarce, and you find yourself longing for the good ol’ days of 2020. This is not a definitive list nor is it even a very good list. It’s what I’ve read and am sharing with you. Please, dear survivorino (may I call you that?) do your own research.
Some sites recommend long-term food storage include: grains, canned foods of all types (veg, meat, milk soup), oils, beans, and (hallelujah!) sugar. Try to eat food that is no more than a year old. Store it in a cool, dry place. Don’t use food in swollen or corroded cans.
Get a lot of water. If you live near a water source and can get some way to purify it, you’re good to go. Otherwise, buy a lot. They say a gallon per person per day is good. That seems like a lot to me, but what do I know.
Get a generator if you can. Store gas. How much do you need for your vehicle to go to a safe place. Okay, I know. “Safe” is relative. Maybe you want to buy 5, 10, or even 15 five gallon gas cans. And fill them with gas.
Kerosene lanterns were good enough for the old days. They’ll be good enough for us. 
Additionally, stock up on batteries for your flashlights or whatever you use batteries in. No, not fortnight. What is wrong with you?
Get a book on what weeds and plants are useful for health issues. Plant a garden if possible.
As much as I love the color blue, it might be prudent to get away from cities or states of that particular persuasion. There is a globalist system we’ve grown to accept. You can disagree with that statement. That’s fine. But I’m stickin’ to my guns here. Time to unhook.
As I was reading about this, I read some comments as well. One delightful person said, “Well I guess I die”. I love dark humor, don’t you?
Finally, keep your Bible. And might I suggest – read it. Talk to Jesus. If you don’t know Him, introduce yourself and you’ll find some reassuring convo you never dreamed you would have. After all, whether we survive or not, God wins. God always wins.
ezprepping.com; eatwild.com; https://youtu.be/0_UnZdkLgHg image:pexels-emre-kuzu-4820763; nathan-dumlao-ajAj3-55G2A-unsplash
He couldn’t figure it out. He’d been careful. Beyond careful. He’d left his apartment at different times each day. He’d taken varying routes. His meetings with his contacts had been quick and discreet, the notes and thumb drives tucked in a slim, black bag identical to the one he exchanged with his contacts. He’d even found a nondescript shop at which to meet each one. The shop was nothing, really. It sold scented candles with names like Cozy Evening and Misty Rain. Along the wall were two shelves of used books for sale. Garden art items were tagged to sell quickly. And it sold teas made of herbs, flowers, and mushrooms, with curious names like Meetme, Gotcha, and Moribund. There were other names, too. He’d read them often during meetings at which no word was spoken and a hand-off was imperceptible. Rosalie and Mill Stream were two other names he recalled. The rest scattered from his memory just now; not that it mattered.
The shopkeeper sat the back of the shop with a cup of tea and a book. Always the same teapot, sometimes a different book. Whenever he entered, she’d barely raise her eyes other than to acknowledge him. One time she startled him by asking if she could help him, but he pretended to browse, and shook his head. Foolish woman, he thought – with nothing to do but sit all day hoping to sell a dollar’s worth of goods. He wondered how she made enough to live. She fit the shop perfectly.
But the game was up now. He’d been discovered, along with notes he’d copied and quietly shared. It wasn’t actually embezzlement, he’d reasoned, because business ideas were fair game. How could they be trade secrets when they were no longer secret? He’d quietly laughed over that joke. It was worth it. They were paying him enough to buy a country house and take an island vacation.
Someone higher up had somehow gotten wind of the scheme, though, and just when he and his associates were patting themselves on the back, they’d been yanked up short. He sat in his office, wondering if his future held anything worth salvaging and waiting for his lawyer to get him out of this mess.
“Mr. Stears sent me to ask if you would like anything,” his secretary looked both sorry and scared.
He looked up briefly.
“Here. He left this for me this morning. It’s pretty good. Why don’t you try it?”
She offered a cup of tea, the bag still steeping.
He took it and she left. He set it down, pulled the tea bag from the cup, and glanced at the saucer. Then he froze.
A familiar voice floated down the hall. “Thank you again, Rosalie. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Here’s your check. You take that long vacation you’ve been promising yourself.”
His eyes drifted down to the tiny tea tag labeled simply: Gotcha.
pexels-cottonbro-5585249
Have you bought your brats and hotdogs? Your hamburger? Your pulled pork? Do you have the corn on the cob shucked? The lemonade stirred?
It was around this time, July 4, 1776, when some brave people did more than enjoy good food on a pleasant day. I’ll bet they worked up a sweat. I’ll bet they experienced some anxiety along with determination. They worked on a document which to this day holds our nation firm. It begins:
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.–Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
I wonder how many rough drafts and rewrites were involved in writing this great document? I wonder if private questions kept them up at night: thoughts of how high the cost would be for them and their families when they signed their names to it? Because there was. There was a great cost.
It’s a good thing to be brave. Courage gave us a free nation. And we need courage to keep it. Lives. Fortunes. Sacred Honor.
Declaration of Independence quote can be found at: https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript; A Quick Hello: Brave Words by Brave Men on BitChute
