I've Landed!

Wednesday, April 29, 2015



Is it not obvious He is not a manufactured God?  
Who among us would ever dream up such a God?  

Ancient texts say we were created in His image (not the other way around), 
but we are not finished.

One of the hard things about being old is not only feeling unfinished
but also feeling finished
One of the good things about being old is 
I don't care .   

Let it be as it is. 

Trust God to handle it. 

It is what it is.

It was what it was.  

Thanks for taking time to visit,

Monday, April 27, 2015

shoot me now

re-post in advance of Mother's Day

Somebody (I don't recollect who) posted  on their blog an observation that if you know a young person who wants to be a writer, shoot them now while they are still happy.

I remember when my son, a playwright, had his first play showcased in college.

This is the son who taught me to LOVE criticism of my works.
"Mom, you cannot be a writer unless you lay your ego aside and allow critics to rip your works apart!  That's how you learn to craft something that others want to read.  You are not writing for yourself.  You are writing for others. I have taken one whole semester on submitting plays and having a group of experts and other students dissect my writings as pathetically flawed while I had to sit and listen.  It began as humiliation and ended with exhiliration that anybody considered me good enough to criticize."

So we, his family, sat in the crowded theater
whilst he, the playwright, sat in a special box in the balcony.

He was dressed to the nines, voguish, all plucked from the local thrift store,
hanging on his confident frame
like icicles gracing a mansion.


We were all so excited.

The play began by explaining, before the curtain opened, that this play was "adult in content" and R-rated.
My heart  did not have time to skip a beat before half..... HALF..... the audience got up and walked out!
I was devastated for my son!

But  he was happy.  Later he explained, "You want those people to leave.  That's why you announce the R-rating.  You don't want people ruining your play by getting up during it and leaving."
And he taught me how important it is to target the right audience.  How everything is not for everybody and that is "ok".

But I was cringing on my seat, not only for him, but for ME.  R-Rated?  Oh, dear.
But before those feelings could overtake me, we heard the people behind us discussing the walk-out.
"Are YOU leaving?"
"Oh, no!  I heard this play was written by a drunk sophomore and I have got to see it!"

These are the things that make your face look like ten miles of bad highway by the time the kids are grown and gone.

The play began.  We sat there mesmerized by a play so poignant, so tender, so great we could scarce believe we were related to the "drunk sophomore" who wrote it.
Those who walked out to protect themselves missed something so human and tender they would have been touched.
The play won awards and was showcased elsewhere, bringing a touch of success to my son.
I felt no part of the success since we in the family all recognized that the main character was actually my son, the playwright and the antagonist, the pathetically flawed failure, was his dad.
Thank goodness his dad wasn't there!

Still and all, I felt a little smug, no compassion whatsoever, actually, for my ex.

I might have felt sorry for my ex had I any idea at that moment of what was coming downstream, in a couple of years,  on stage, for me!!!!!

Don't even ask!


So, it is no surprise, me being interested in criticism and all, that yesterday at a belated Mother's Day Lunch, I asked my daughter to critique my blog honestly.  Her age precludes her from my target audience but I know she reads "I've Landed!".

The desert sun shone muted through the blue tinted restaurant window, casting soft relief to the 30 year old wall paper and unchanging decors we have enjoyed in our favorite restaurant for decades.  The flowering trees outside were made deeper in shade by the tinted glass.  The smell of pizza was everywhere.


When my daughter visits, we always try to get at least one  meal at this the watering oasis for decades in our personal desert.

"Well", she said as she gazed out the window, "I think you could improve your blog by leaving out the statistics.  They are boring.  And leave out the education also.  If people want education there are multiple sites they can go to."

"But my blog is meant to be educational!"

"Well, skip it.  Nobody wants educated.  Tell the stories.  Do the expose'.  That's what's entertaining.............reading other people's stories."

"Do I put too much religious stuff in?"

(pause......)   "No.  Not really.  That's ok.  But you are a little edgy with the UFO stuff.  You might want to leave that out because, frankly, you seem like a nut sometimes."

"I am a nut!  I am not ashamed of being related to lunatics!  Besides you are only saying that because I am a tea party enthusiast."

"They are nuts!"

"So?        .....What's your point?"

"Stay away from the UFO's and the Tea Party."


Saturday, April 18, 2015

Happy Birthday, Milo


Good Morning!
Thank you for your visit,

Monday, April 13, 2015

Sunni and Shia

Learning about Islam on the Arabian Peninsula

So much to learn that blogging has taken a back seat.

Once upon a time, the rich took advantage of the poor.
In the Information Age, the informed take advantage of the uninformed.

One organization of Muslims who cannot safely speak out against what some other Muslims are doing, show their own peacefulness by role-modeling peace, with their focus being about teaching and interfaith dialogue.

In the Information Age, being informed is essential.

Sunni and Shia


Learning, with a long way to go,
I thank you for your visit and gracing my life.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015


In Memory of Thomas Kincade     


Saturday, April 4, 2015

Driven into the Shadows

Driven into the Shadows

Free speech has never been free. It is guarenteed, true, but you always, always, always pay for your stand on anything controversial.

"Free" speech (the right to say what you want to say)  in America is under fierce attack and has been for some time.

So is freedom of religion.

It is becoming clearer and clearer that it will take more and more courage to be openly religious acknowledging there is a Creator .
It is becoming clearer and clearer that it will take more and more courage to “go on the record” about anything.
The world is filled with billions and billions of people and there will always be somewhere-someone who disagrees with you and dislikes you and dislikes people of your ilk....and others who disagree with me and dislike me and dislike people of my ilk.

So why be religious?

Because life makes more sense when we have hope.

The hope that there is a hereafter, a hereafter that is better than here.
The hope of love that surpasses all understanding.
The hope of peace that surpasses all understanding.

Since we each only have a brief moment to splish-splash through our experiences here, let's make it count, I say.

Christ hung on a cross at age 33, changing the world forever.

If we get to last into old age, let's make it count, I say.
 Let's make every minute count.
Let's start by having hope.
We are not equal to life! So let's hope Someone is (and that "Someone" is certainly not our polilicians!!!)

For this Easter Sunday as I remember the hope and thrill of the resurrection, I am going to “be brave” and share again with you a nursing story. It did not happen long ago. But its happening in a local emergency room, staffed with outstanding educated medical personnel, was revealing to me of the fact that, yes, Riverwatch, there is a satan.
Satan is as real as you are.

It was a busy busy night and I was supervisor for the hospital for that night. It was the kind of night that ER personnel “recognize” as a humdinger in the works even before they begin their shift!
Our one and only Security Guard arrived on duty, his face pale with some kind of fear.
 “The moon has a cross on it! Look!”
Image result for images of moon with a cross on it

Some of us took a quick peek from the parking lot, but we saw only a full moon.
Image result for images of full moon over a city

Only the Security Guard saw a cross, and ….well, you know, we all knew then that he was “ a mental case” and we dismissed him. Easy to dismiss him because we were getting slammed.

As a nursing supervisor, when I wasn't busy running all over the hospital, I hung out in the ER. Certified in trauma nursing and advanced life support, I was “back-up” if the ER became overwhelmed.
We were getting overwhelmed that night.

When the radio call came in from an ambulance on its way with an out-of-control young girl, found alone and unconscious on the street at 3 in the morning, the paramedic revealed that they were bringing her in sandwiched between 2 stretchers because the three of them could not restrain her even though she was unconscious.
The most experienced nurse in the ER turned to me and said, “Don't leave, Riverwatch. You are going to see something you have probably never seen before. Besides, we are going to need you.”

Belinda …..I shall call her Belinda....arrived. She was a small young teenager, 80 pounds at most. As forewarned, she was sandwiched between two stretchers and her writhing was still going on. As the three paramedics transferred her to an ER stretcher, it took 6 of us to do the job of holding her down and getting restraints on.

She was unconcious and dressed totally in black with long black hair that had obviously been dyed. Blackish reddish fingernail polish. No identification for who she was.

Breathing on her own, Belinda did not need intubated but she needed much care. I was assigned “the head” to hold her head with both of my hands as others tied (and re-tied!) her down in bed as tests were run trying to figure out what was in her system.
A tube was inserted through her nose and into her stomach to pump out the contents of her stomach. There was the prompt return of alcohol...lots and lots of alcohol...but nothing else.
Her drug screen showed nothing but then screens do not screen for everything.
Her blood alcohol was comatose level.
It became a waiting game: hold Belinda down until her system is flushed with IV fluids and the alcohol begins to wear off.

Still at the head of the stretcher, I tried to talk soothingly to her while some of the crew and the police got busy  finding who she was.  Her name was supplied to us by the police.
Slowly she began to come out of the unconscious level, still threshing and writhing but talking.
Three medical people were still at her side constantly: 2 RN's and one MD.
Her voice was “tiny”, the young young female teenage voice.
Here is a transcript of her words:
“Mommy, Mommy, HELP me! He's taking me down. He's taking me down.”
Naturally I thought she must have been raped!
Me: “Belinda, who's taking you down?”
“Help me. Help me. Help me. Mommy, the fire is burning me. Help me!”
Me: “Belinda, we are here with you. Nobody's going to hurt you. We are helping you.”
“Mommy! Help me. He's taking me down.”
Me: “Belinda, we are here with you. You are ok.”

Suddenly Belinda's face contourted into a look I have never ever seen before in any patient. Her teeth were completely bared, the grimace contourting her entire face was not human, but maybe, maybe some kind of animal.
and then from out of the throat of a 80 pound girl came a deep loud male voice: “Belinda is not here. Belinda is dead. I want to kill you ALL and I will kill you!”

Stunned, we three medical personnel looked at each other and then the male RN said, “Enough of this.”
He called one of the medical division units on 4th Floor and had another male nurse come help him and together they prayed over this young girl, demanding that satan depart.

After the prayer, Belinda lay quiet of her writhing as deep gutteral "gruff male" non-human growls came occasionally from her throat.
Eerie scarey growls.  Like nothing I have ever heard in a human.
Her face, having relaxed, occasionally contourted to bared teeth again, but finally relaxed completely.

Her parents arrived on the scene, having been found. Belinda had gone “partying” with a young friend early in the evening. Her young friend was found and said some man "in a truck"  had tried to pick both of them up offering another party “where you can have some real fun”. The young friend declined and begged Belinda not to go, but go she did.

Her mom revealed that Belinda had been dressing totally in black for sometime now and kept talking about demons being in their home, but the mom thought she was just “acting out”.
Incidently, the mom and dad were not speaking to one another. (ER personnel are excellent at noticing those small nuances.)
Belinda made a full recovery. Well, we think it was a full recovery.

I celebrate Easter this year, as always, grateful for my Savior.

As I watch the senseless killing across our globe that is so poorly understood, I have insight as to what is behind that.

And I praise God for the sacrifice He has made for me, for all of us.

I have hope.

Thanks for sharing this moment with me,