Erma Bombeck still stands as one of my favorite authors.  She could easily have done story-stand up comedy with her exquisite way of looking at life, and especially how she shared little bits of her own life as illustration.  One of her books is: If Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries, What Am I Doing In The Pits?  I cannot think how many times in my life I could easily relate to that title and thought.

As I contemplate what and if I will try my hand at writing again, and I look back at some of my partially written works I recognize comedy has always been some part of my work.  Even working on a murder mystery, I seem to add in something light-hearted here and there.  Life can seem inordinately harsh without finding and expressing our sense of humor.  At funerals when we are at our lowest, humor often comes to our rescue

When I've been at my most serious, is when I've probably been at my most stress-filled.  Solutions don't come then, generally just a round-robin of how many ways things will only get worse. I see that rehearsal of misfortunes as our greatest hindrance to true peace of mind.  As I read about and study health and how best to achieve it, getting out of stress is Number One on the docket.  And, of course, it's in the very act of struggling to find our way out of stress that we bring on more stress.  Not a good way of dealing.

Not sure where this post is leading, but I can tell the writer in me is wanting out of her box.  I've been playing with the notion of joining a writing class again at Writer's Village University just so I'll have assignments with due dates.  I've always been a writer needing the discipline of a publishing date to keep me going and on track.

Ah, at my age the one thing I know about me is if I have recurring thoughts, they eventually materialize.  It's that Divine Spark of Creativity in me (and in all of God's children), that just has to show up or we go by the way of the grave.  We either grow and thrive, or we shrivel and die.  Creative creatures must create or chaos ensues creating entropy.

So let there be light.  I look forward to my creative process and its outcome.

It's that time of the year . . .

Hark the Herald Angels Sing . . . Ah no, it's not Christmas, it's April 23, and Earth Day is officially behind us. But I have to admit, it's been so long since I posted a blog, I feel like I've been lost out of time and space. Perhaps I can re-establish my desire to write short stories by committing to my Rocking Chair Ruminations again.

By-the-way, it wasn't until I wrote "Hark the Herald Angels Sing . . ." that I once more realized the significance of "herald". Angels are, by definition, messengers, but these were heralding the great news of our new born king--what an honor, what a task they were given, to let the world know God was now with Mankind in a way He had not ever been before--He had laid aside His position in the god-head, and took on flesh. And when He finally cried out from the cross "It is finished" and on the third day arose and ascended to Heaven to present His blood on the altar--there was from that moment on through all eternity, a Man in the God-head! Hallelujah! Well, that was worth writing this blog today--made me pretty happy.

I have my dear friend, Dreamweaver (http://northstardreamweaversweb.blogspot.com/), to thank for the inspiration to post a blog again. Hopefully some of you will look up her blog and begin to follow her adventures in life and share your comments.

God is good, All the time; All the time, God is good--if it's good, it's God!