The Dog that Protected its Person from a Caterpillar

This is a medical week - the Ballad of Old Age.  Monday - blood test - routine - for arthritic purposes; Tuesday - Second Covid Vax, the Captain and his Mrs together; Wednesday - Toothmaggedon proper begins...and I still don't know if I have made the right choice.  But something has to be done as my mouth is now quite sore.  

I haven't worried much about the Vax and its after-effects, but I am a little worried about this second one as some seem to have reacted quite badly to it.  However, in a pandemic, it must be done.

Jacks rang me on Monday afternoon and we cheered each other up, had a good old moan too, and wondered when we will ever get to see each other again.   

I have been having bad nights - left hand flare up - and am stuffed to the gills with painkillers. So if this blog seems rather incoherent, that is my excuse.   And added to that is that I have had a reaction to the Vax, felt very seasick and dizzy last night. But am a bit better this morning - and I slept OK, which always helps. 

The Captain and I listened to a talk on Caterpillars yesterday afternoon...  extraordinary creatures, some of which mimic snakes - and some of which mimic bird droppings...   There was a great photo of a dog - a golden retriever I think - nose to nose with a snake-mimic caterpillar they had come across on their country walk.  Apparently the dear dog was most concerned - pointed, whimpered and cleared ground around the little creature, so his person could see it and be safe!  He never touched it though.

The slide showed valiant dog and valiant caterpillar nose to nose in a face-off.  Well, having said that, the dog was nose end up, but with a caterpillar, its often hard to tell.

And, to all Evolutionists out there, how could the caterpillar process evolve?   The tiny egg, coded with so much information that it becomes that little eating train, the caterpillar, in all its amazing varieties and disguises, which then transforms into a chrysalis, out of which bursts that flying flower, the butterfly.

Isn't this a miracle in plain sight?   It tells us, as clearly as if it spoke, that the caterpillar has a Grand Designer.  

Nisan 14

The Memorial of Jesus' death was held on Saturday night, the 14th day of Nisan (the Passover) which began in the evening.  Captain Butterfly attended looking very smart.  My bread was a bit hard, but definitely unleavened - and as neither of us take the emblems, there was no danger to our teeth. 

The talk given was so clear, so powerful, that I can only hope it reached the heart of every listener - but especially of course the Captain.

Afterwards, I had a glass of his homemade Chianti - the first glass of wine (or of anything alcoholic) for months.  I had forgotten how good his red wine is.   I did stick to the one glass though. 

There was no meeting this morning as it was the Memorial the night before.  I listened to the March broadcast - all about marriage - and what the Maker's Manual;  the Bible - has to say about it - information that people desperately need.

As Spring is about to sprung, I thought this would be an appropriate photo - taken by Captain B, of Ken's painting of blossom in Endcliffe Vale Park. Ken was obsessed with the park for a while and painted it in all its moods. 

Although he had no belief in a Creator, he did love and appreciate the creation, and was working away, albeit more and more slowly almost until the day he died.  And of course I am hoping that Jehovah has remembered him, and that he is sleeping safe in "the everlasting arms". every hair of his head numbered, and that, when the time comes, during the Thousand Years, he has a wonderful awakening ahead of him.

If so, he will see this lovely earth again.  

The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton

I must say a big THANK YOU to Penny of  the North, who sent me "The Great Train Robbery" by Michael Crichton.

It is unputdownable, though its not a subject I would have thought would interest me. The author must have done such intensive research and has turned it into a fast paced thriller.   I now want to read everythng else he has written.  

He will be on my next book order.

The robbery involved  a safe packed with gold travelling to the Crimean war,  and back then, mid-19th century, there was no way of blowing a safe.  The discovery of dynamite was on it way, but it was not yet available, let alone in its nitro-glycerine form, to these robbers.

And this safe was massive.  To cut through it would require somehow getting some equally massive equipment on board the train and then having the time and the soundproofing to use it.  So the only way in was by key.  And there were four keys, held in secret by 4 different people in different hiding places...

Yet they robbed that safe. Some did pay a terrible price for it.  Others did not.  If you wrote it as fiction, would anyone believe it?  

It has taught me so much about Victorian England too  - a time of such prosperity alongside such desperate poverty.  Which, despite all the welfare state has done, has not in essence changed.   As the Hebrew Scriptures warn us:  "It does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step."

My poor old computer has been on the blink (like its poor old person) I am now appearing at meetings on Col's ipadthingummy - which has an even more horrendous camera than my own computer (and that is saying something).  Its very demoralising.  But apparently the congregation is relieved as my computer has been adding an annoying whine to all meetings (rather like its person too, the Captain assures me).  I haven't been conscious of it as I have tinnitus and have a constant ringing in my ears.

Anyway, I feel a bit anxious about getting to my 10 blogs a month total. So I hope to get  this posted while the computer is letting me in.  It may in the end involve a new computer! This is proving a very expensive year so far.  Toothmageddon approaches, which should possibly be called Bankbalancemageddon, as it has to be done privately.  These teeth cannot wait.  Which is to say that they will not wait around in my mouth for much longer.

And, as our letter witness continues, I have to ask Himself if he will order me some more stamps...   I believe the stamp mines are on overtime such is the demand from us and our letters.

This could be the most comprehensive witness to the Kingdom of God ever given.  And it is a privilege to be involved in it.  When you get your letter, as I hope you will, please please read it and think very seriously about it.

Here is a wonderful promise from our Creator:

"With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them.  And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.” - Revelation 21:3,4

Have any of Jehovah's promises ever failed?  They never have, and they never will.  Isn't that the very meaning of his name?

A Trip to York Minster

On Saturday we went on a tour of York Minster, conducted by Keith.  Captain B drove us there on his computer.   I was having a lot of trouble with mine - I got to the morning field service meeting, but the speakers kept turning themselves upside down and having red swirls all over them.   

The tour was very interesting the Minster has a fascinating history.  My bro-in-law knows his stuff.

And the tour brought back - to an uncomfortable degree - the teachings of my 1950s Convent school.  We were taught that death was a passage into a terrifying afterlife - eons of torment in purgatory, or even worse hellfire torment for all eternity.  it was a teaching that put me off the idea of God, the Bible and reliigion for such a long time.

It wasn't until many years later I found out that the Bible assures us the dead are "conscious of nothing at all".  We need neither to fear for them, or fear them.

Keith reminded me of this poem, one I had forgotten:

The Child Dying

Edwin Muir

Unfriendly friendly universe

I pack your stars into my purse

And bid you so farewell

That I can leave you, quite go out,

Go out, go out beyond a doubt

My father says is the miracle.

It is so strange to us that we are going to stop existing.   As the Inspired Scriptures tell us, Jehovah has "put eternity into our mind".  We do not want to stop existing. So it is important to know, whatever the magnificent stained glass windows of York Minster may be telling us, that death is not a journey into torment, it is a dreamless sleep, with a wonderful awakening at the other end.

The Poetry of Childhood

 I was asked to join an fb group which discusses the books and illustrations and pictures of our childhood.  And it has got me thinking about two poets I have read since childhood, A.A.Milne and Walter de la Mare.

And here is a poem by A.A.Milne that I loved as a child, and - and, rapidly approaching my second childhood - still love.   

The Dormouse And The Doctor

There once was a dormous, who lived in a bed

Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest….
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook

The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"

The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.

https://allpoetry.com/The-Dormouse-And-The-Doctor

Thinking about the way this poem made me feel as a child reminds me of what Janet Frame said in her wonderful autobiography "To the Is-land", when she spoke of wondering about "the sadness that belongs to the world".  From a very young age she asked the question why.

She even gives us the answer later in the book when she speaks of the "shy Frame look", which asks "Everything should be perfect. Why isn't it?"  Which brings us right back to the first chapter of Genesis, though as far as I know Janet Frame herself never connected the two thoughts.

I am beginning on a sort of Memorial Spring clean  - difficult as we have so much clutter, but I am doing what I can.  And I have restocked the freezer with cake, as I suddenly realised we had none left. And, given we should be being called in for our second vax soon, I guess Col, who has been shielding me, will be able to get back to his SUSSAR rescue work then - and that means packed lunches!

The wonderful upbuilding structure of our meetings, studying and witnessing continues, all in line with Covid restrictions.

WHY?

Why do I do this to myself?  I woke up in the early hours of Sunday morning after a stress filled dream about being taken to the airport - vaguely the local one of our expat years - only to realise I had no passport, no airline ticket and no idea of what flight I was supposed to be getting. I kept trying to phone Captain B to ask him to bring the paperwork to the airport.  But something always happened to stop me.

Then I was back home - vaguely my childhood home - I was again trying to phone Col to ask if he had  my paperwork, but every time I tried to phone something stopped me. There was a guy, a Filippino guy who was testing our record player and he had to test it right by the phone, so I couldn't hear anything.  Then I went upstairs where it would be quieter, only to find there was no phone - nor should there have been if this was indeed the house of my childhood - one downstairs phone was a luxury then.

When my young parents came home from a rare outing - the office Christmas party - and found a pregnant neighbour lying battered and bleeding on their doorstep, my father had to run to the nearest phone box. while my mother rushed for blankets.  And run he did. And she was saved. Though not the baby.  

Then I was overcome by a blinding pain in my right leg. I am going to die up here I thought.  Is that why I had gone back to a version of my childhood home?  And I did die to the dream as the pain - very real - woke me.  It only lasted for a few seconds thank God, and, finding Captain B sleeping peacefully next to me I thought at last I can ask him about my passport, I don't need a phone now...  fortuntely it dawned on me before i actually woke the poor guy up. But, oh dear, why am I doing this to myself?  Doesn't life have enough anxieties as it is?

And enough horrors.   The battered lady in question did ring my mother, years later, to say that the batterer had died some time ago, and that she had married again (bravely), this time to a really nice guy.  And now there is the tragedy of young Sarah Everard, killed - allegedly by an off-duty policeman - as she walked home.   

It comes back to WHY?  Why did he have to attack and kill her?  And the anger left in the wake of this seems to have made things even worse. There was a vigil in London for Sarah, which was broken up by the police, under Covid regulations.  So it all ended with more violence.  More anger.

Divisions and hatreds seem to be on the increase everywhere. And why this hatred between men and women, who should have been partners perfectly complementing each other?

The Inspired Scriptures, which truly do set everything straight, tell us.  Because surely the asnwer is there in Genesis.  It tells how the perfect partnership between man and woman went tragically wrong.  And it also shows us how Adam blamed the woman for what had happened.  "The woman that you gave me..."

But in Genesis they are both blamed and both died, as God had warned they would if they disobeyed. They both returned to the dust of the ground from which they were created. Because of this we will never meet our first parents.  And we are still living in the tragedy their disobedience created.

This is why the Memorial is so important, such a special occasion.  Jesus' death, as a perfect man, paid back to God the perfect human life that Adam so tragically threw away in Eden.  And it opens up the way back to the life and perfection that was lost.

Under the rule of God's loving Kingdom, there will not only be no more bad dreams, but the current wicked system of things on the earth will be gone like a bad dream - never to return.

New Flowers for Spring

The Captain came back with some African Violets and a couple of new Orchids for our flower table.  IF I can make my phone work, there will be a photo or two on this blog to welcome them.  Lockdown continues, though, in theory, with an end in sight.  The days continue to fly by, so fast.  And for a solitary,  aspergery soul like myself, lockdown takes a lot of stress away.  I will miss it when its gone.  But I do understand that most people will not.

More sad news from an old friend - a very good friend - from Planet Expat.  His daughter, who is taking such wonderful care of him, says he is approaching the end, and is no longer really eating.   You don't think when you are young what the end of life will be like - and its a mercy that you don't!  One thing is that your family, your friends, people you know, people who were a part of your life, are all, one by one, dropping off that awful edge.

Spring is on the way, but we are coming into the Winter of our lives now.

A friend dropped off some more invites on Thursday, so I have 11 more Memorial invitations to send out, and just about enough stamps I think.  And we had a lovely session on Zoom on Wednesday, 4 of us writing out invitation letters, chatting, swapping ideas, with Captain B, joining in and making us laugh now and then.

If it were not for Jehovah sending his witnesses to my door all those years ago, I would not now have the lovely worldwide congregation family - nor would I have this wonderful hope that the link, so fatally broken in Eden, will soon be restored, and we can live forever, with those we love, in the restored earthly paradise.  The whole load of stress, and the burden of imperfection, that each one of us carries will be gone for good.

No photo of our new orchids as yet, but there may be one if I can get my shaky arthritic hands to take a photo of them that is not out of focus.  And on that thrilling cliffhanger...

The Memorial

This will link you to an invitation to the Memorial of Jesus' death, to be held worldwide on Saturday the 27th of March, after sundown - 6.30 in this country.  And, in our congregation, the Special Talk will be held on Sunday the 21st of March, at 10.00 a.m.    w.org/en/jehovahs-witnesses/memorial/

You would be so welcome to join us for both, or for either.  Just let me know and I will send you the co-ordinates for Zoom or phone. And your local congregation can do the same.

In the meantime, sad health news about an old friend - I ought to say more sad health news about yet another old friend. We are all in the Death Zone, under the ThreeScoreYearsandTen Rule - all mountaineers in the Everest of Old Age.  And I am sure there is a Haiku in that somewhere, if only I can find it.

Today will be very busy.  Supermarket delivery arrives - followed by Zoom field service meeting - then family Zoom with the siblings - then off  to the Dentist for the beginning of my ordeal - just a short trip to have moulds taken of the soon to be gone teeth.  I hope they can hang on in my mouth for another few hours, just to get that done.  Then fruit and veg delivery in the afternoon, studying, and special field service meeting in the evening.

And, as I finish this blog, the first three things have been accomplished - hospital call good, and the first supermarket delivery has arrived and been sorted without the Captain and I shouting at each other and geting in each others way too much. And my teeth have survived the dentist and are still in my head.  I missed the morning field service though - computer troubles.

The headline news is all about the Oprah Winfrey interview with MegHarry.

There are terrible terrible things going on the Yemen, at the moment, in Myanmar, in China and in our own prisons.   That though is not headline news.

A Present from the North

Having had another bad night, up in the early hours of Thursday morning, I needed the help of another Sleep teabag - Twinings Spiced Apple and Vanilla with Camomile and Passionflower - (and, no, they are not paying me to endorse it - if only!) - and here is the verse that the kind friend who gave me the teabags had written on this one:

Jeremiah 31:3:  "From far away Jehovah appeared to me and said: “I have loved you with an everlasting love. That is why I have drawn you to me with loyal love."

Once again all I can say is perfect.  Perfect words for the small hours when things can seem a bit bleak.  

And I had a lovely surprise yesterday when a present from the North arrived.  Pen sent me "The Great Train Robbery" by Michael Crichton.  I am really looking forward to it - and already one of the little quotes at the beginning has stopped me in my tracks. 

It is from a Victorian Child's poem - please note that, a poem for a child - from 1856.  And it says:

"Satan is glad - when I am bad,

And hopes that I - with him shall lie

In fire and chains - and dreadful pains."

And up until the 1950s at least, children were being taught this.  I was taught it at my Convent school.  Satan was pictured as presiding over a hell of fiery torment where any of us tiny schoolchildren might end up - forever!

Yet, as the Bible famously says: "The wages sin pays is death" - death, not a life somewhere else in torment.  We, the children of Adam, are all born damaged and dying - "in sin" - through to fault of our own. So we die and return to the dust from which we were made.  And if you look at the whole of that famous verse it says:  "For the wages sin pays is death, but the gift God gives is everlasting life by Christ Jesus our Lord."  Romans 6:23

Everlasting life is a gift, not a punishment.  And we, the damaged, dying children of Adam, can hope to live forever in the restored earthly paradise.  

We are now approaching the Memorial of Jesus' sacrificial death, the death that paid back to God the perfect human life that Adam so tragically lost in Eden, and opened up the way back to life and perfection for us, his children.

I hope to make my next blog an invitation to that Memorial which will be held on Saturday, March 27th, at 6.30 in the evening.   And there will be a special talk the preceding Sunday, which will help to explain why this is such an important event.  

A One Tea Bag Night

March has arrived. And the old saying about March is that if it comes in like a lion it goes out like a lamb - and presumably vice versa.   However, I can't say Monday was lionlike.  It was sunny  - but surprisingly cold.  So much so that Captain B did not even go out for his walk.   Tuesday was cold and misty. But the sea was calm.  I can deduce nothing from all that about how March will end.

At this time of year, in my 1950s childhood, in my Northern hometown, I would watch for some of the little shoots appearing in my father's cherished garden to turn themselves into perfect little lupins. I knew as a child I was seeing a miracle, it was like being in Wonderland.   For too many years after that I let myself be side-tracked by the Theory of Evolution, assuming that scientific people, much much cleverer than I was, had proved it.

Of course it remains a theory and with our increasing knowledge about the complexity of the creation, a theory even more full of holes than Darwin honestly acknowledged back in the day.

I am not sleeping well at the moment, am in a lot of pain and its a bit of a struggle. Last night I was up in the early hours sipping a cup of the Sleep tea a kind friend gave me -  Twinings spiced apple and vanilla with camomile and passionflower - and it, and a dose of The Chase on the TV, did get me back to sleep eventually.

Our first supermarket delivery - Waitrose - has just arrived and been sorted and our fruit and veggie box arrives this afternoon.   We have an extra meeting this evening for the field service, and I am going to see if I can up my field service hours, so hope to attend.

Anyway, back to Tea Bag Business.  My kind friend has added a Scripture to each one, for comfort on a sleepless night. And last night's was Philippians 4:6,7, which says: 

"Do not be anxious over anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication along with thanksgiving, let your petitions be made known to God;  and the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your mental powers by means of Christ Jesus."

Perfect.