And, boy(!), did we get loads accomplished in the yard today! I had an amazing time today, taking it easy while using my physical energy to make improvements to our backyard. We added so much beauty today, it was such a blessing to be able to do it all. And it was even more of a blessing not to have to check the clock… at all. We just got to take care of things, have fun together, argue a lot about what way to do certain things (especially when one of us already had a way we were going to do it, and the other didn’t realize that), and learn to let it go and continue onward together, even when we did separate things from one another. It was just a beautiful day making beautiful things.
And, oh, yeah, it was extremely hot. One neighbor mentioned that there may even have been a heat warning… so, there’s that.
But today was such a blessing and a meditation and a working out of kinks, it was perfect.
Thank you, God, for this day. We tidied so much more than just the yard today. Thank you for all of it. Help us always to see clearly our next step to fulfill your will. In your name, I pray. Amen.
We went to Mass this evening, and I kind of really like doing that. There is something about ‘making sure we go to Mass’ on Sunday that usually makes Sundays just not feel like a day of rest. I certainly want to go to Mass. But there is something about going Saturday evening that makes so much more seem possible in a weekend. It’s easy to have dinner after a 5pm on Saturday, because we can stay up late Saturday night. But dinner after a 5pm on Sunday must be quick and orderly, and we have to ‘get to it’ to get everything ready for bed and for an early start Monday morning. If we do Sunday morning Mass, we can’t stay up late Saturday night, removing much of the fun of having a Saturday night without a day of work after it, but with a day of rest to follow. Granted, we aren’t going out and partying hard or anything. Oftentimes, we are just doing things at home after dinner, or wanting to watch a movie or something, just hanging out together, even. But we’d have to cut it all short, especially in the summer, to go get ready for bed, if we had Mass the next morning. Plus, there is a certain stress around making sure alarms are set for everyone to get up and out the door in time for Church the next morning, allied with getting as much sleep as possible yet practicable. We can never seem to get to bed truly early enough on a Saturday night – we have too much energy for that on Saturdays – not to be rushing the next morning to get to Mass. So, Sunday morning Mass always has a certain stress tied to it.
What’s more, I get stressed having to keep an eye on the time all day to make sure we don’t miss the only chance we have for something. By going to Mass Saturday, the idea of having the options of Sunday morning and evening, just in case something changes or comes up, gives me great ease…
Coming home from Mass on Sunday requires down time for me. Often, I want to go do something, to celebrate the joys we just got to experience in Mass. But that doesn’t work out so easily on a Sunday evening, for reasons already mentioned, or on a Sunday after morning Mass, because it’s time to start getting ready for lunch and anything else that needs to get done that day before bedtime routines need to start.
This may all sound ridiculous, but it is very real for me. I had forgotten the ease that came with Saturday vigil. Experiencing it tonight brought forth a release of stress that I hadn’t fully realized I’d been carrying about Sunday Mass. But, boy, can I feel the lifting of that weight tonight as I go to bed…
I can now look forward to a Sunday in which I don’t have to get dressed up or go be around and with a lot of people. I can truly have a day of rest and contemplation in my own home. The hubbub and buzz of going to Church is much more suiting for Saturday and its many activities and events and general happenings around town. The restful start – without the alarm and rushing to get ready and out the door – with no requirements but to be faithful and to be here, makes Sunday a true day of rest, and, thereby, prayer and contemplation, as well as an offering to God. Wow.
Thank you, God, for this insight into my relationship with you and with the world around me. Thank you for this love. Amen.
Dear Lord, please, help my man to find relief and fulfillment in his work. If this is not the job for him, help him to find clearly what he must do now and next, and when next is. Please, make his every step clear for us both, that we may pursue and fulfill your will through his work. Grant him ease and confidence, please. In your name, I pray. Amen.
A chain my man likes is having an anniversary week thing, where they have a special for each day this week. So, though we typically go around once a month or two, we’ve gone four times this week now.
Tonight, we had to pick up my car from having work done on it – covered under manufacturer’s warranty, the window regulator broke, if you recall that as having happened just after my jury summons stuff had ended – across town, so we went to a different location of the restaurant.
After we’ve been seated and ordered our beverages and first round of appetizers and it’s all come out, our waiter takes a little time to chat with us. The section is not busy at the moment, so we think nothing of it. (You can tell this is going somewhere now, though…) He asks if we come often tot he restaurant. We mention how we do not normally come very often, but that we have come almost every day this week for the fun specials. We give various details about it, and we all laugh about how ridiculous it all is.
The waiter casually asks if we normally come to this location and if we’ve been coming here all week, and we easily explain that, no, we haven’t. We’ve been going to this other location, which is by where we live and where we normally go. And he says, ‘Oh, so you were there on Monday night,’ and we say that we were.
And just before my man, as is quite common at times, dives into some other comment that kind of cuts off someone else, the waiter adds, “I remember y’all. I saw y’all there.”
……..
My man, somehow, completely misses this casually commented fun-fact, and just keeps sharing about something related dinner that night and the specials we had all had at our table (my brother and sister-in-law had been with us). I dive in about Really?! You did?! You were there?!We’re you working?! And he says where he was seated, just by the hostess stand. I misunderstand briefly and ask if it was on the side by the bar, which was where we had been, with only a Hispanic family right near us that I could recall, though someone else had been there first… At this point, my man is listening newly, realizing that he clearly missed something in the conversation, and he catches up quickly.
We clarify where our waiter had been sitting, and that he had seen me waiting by the hostess stand on my own first, and then with my man, once he had arrived (the wait was long that night, even though we’d gotten on the wait list long before arriving in person), and before we went to the bar to get a round of the discounted drink (and then were seated almost immediately at our actual table). As it turned out, he had wanted to have the special that night – it was $1/chicken wing and $2 (certain) draft pints, though I suspect he wasn’t old enough for the latter – but was embarrassed to go eat at the restaurant where he worked, so he went to the next closest location… where he saw us standing right by his table for fifteen minutes or so. 😛
Pretty silly and bizarre, to be sure, but I’m really glad he told us. He even said that he recognized us immediately, but that he didn’t want to start off the waiter-patron relationship that way, too intensely right off the bat. It was a good call. We would have been fine with it, but it was the safer bet and we probably enjoyed it even more discovering it after establishing a positive rapport with the kid. We ended up having a great time at dinner tonight, and had a surprisingly good time chatting off and on with our sweet (and good quality) waiter. It was really fun, and I’m so glad we stopped at it all worked out as it did.(!)
Thank you, God, for this surprise blessing. Thank you for this life. Help us to see clearly our next step, please. Help Dylan(sp?) to find his next step, especially in regards to University and his own development Persia lulu and academically. In your name, I pray. Amen.
I prefer that term to the one actually used, traffickers, as the term used makes me think painfully of human and child versions of it. Super sore subject for me, which only increases the pain of the actual topic at hand.
Anyway, we crossed a National Geographic show that was a documentary-esque suspense-injected show following federal police at airports in Peru and Italy who track and aim to prevent drug trafficking. At first, it was really cool to see the police work and to work so well. But it eventually just became increasingly sad – all the people involved in the trafficking have miserably sad problems that led them to make the smuggling attempt in the first place. Most of them were convinced by some outside source that it would work and that they would receive enough money from that someone afterward that would solve some major problem in their lives. In a way, advantage was taken of them, and some even were conned into doing it.
These people’s lives are then directed to years in prison, the single instance of drug transfer is stopped, and the origins of the drugs in the first place are left practically untouched. So, it may make things a bit tougher for the drug organizations to distribute their drugs around the globe, but what do they truly care about a small amount stopped at an airport? It cost them only that small amount, and the people imprisoned were no skin off their backs. They likely will find more sad and desperate people to take the risk the next day, again and again.
The cycle is not stopped, only disturbed with a small ripple.
The one consolation I had – that they may at least have a place to live with food and water once imprisoned, keeping them off the streets and from utter poverty – was dashed at the mention of the high likelihood that they might be “removed permanently” by the drug folks and their connections within prisons.
How utterly sad… all of it is immensely sad.
Though it is a new way for me to look at the world, I can see very easily how this very much is the work of the devil. (Yes, that still sounds weird to me, but I believe it nonetheless.)
Dear God, please, help us to heal the broken people. Help the most broken ones to return to you and your guidance. Help us all to repent and to turn fully to you and your will, at all levels and in all places and at all times. We are all in such need of you – help us to hear your call and to respond lovingly to it and with the immediately due haste. Help us, please, to love and to be filled with your love. Help us to embrace your love such that we can always and powerfully reject the devil and his ways. Help us to start to heal your people and this beautiful world you created and in which we still are blessed to live. In your name, I pray. Amen.
Well, jury duty was a success. I prayed a lot about it, and I asked for clear guidance, courage, and the necessary words and judgement from God and the dear Saints in order to do God’s will and to share his love in the world through me, and I do believe they provided it all. I knew I would be selected as a potential juror – one of those God-granted feelings – and I ended up being the second-to last one called, of 80 people (from a total of about 200 folks who didn’t get excused).
But, because I’d known, when there were only five names remaining, I knew not to think I was about to go home. It was just a matter of which number I was. And that was juror number 79.
And juror number 79, despite full intentions not to speak up about things unless absolutely necessary, spoke up a lot.
Mostly, I asked for clarity on things, definitions, to repeat something that had been read aloud quickly (which half the room could not actually read on the far-away screen in small font – seriously, what are they thinking there?? – in the first place). Sometimes, I answered the questions they were asking, mostly when I had a clear answer to share and no one else was speaking up already or had not mentioned what I then added. For the most part, each time I contributed left me chucking to myself quietly afterward and shaking my head. I had asked for clear guidance and the right words for fulfilling God’s will, and it was quickly clear that God wanted me to be seen and heard today.
I was not one of the annoyances – a few people did it intentionally, and several just didn’t seem to have a clue on many things – but I was involved a decent amount throughout the two hours of questioning from the attorneys. By the end of it, I was genuinely wanting to be on the jury.
It was even a criminal case, which I had feared most beforehand. The subject, however sensitive it may be, was a matter in which I truly felt I could see both sides freely. I have had to sort through some serious crap that was done to me in my life, and that people I care about have done. And I have learned to honor that they did what they felt was the only option at the time – no matter how horrible the action may have been or how twisted their thinking likely was – and that people do not necessarily act maliciously when they commit crimes against others… even the really bad ones. Yes, there certainly are plenty of times that malicious intent is present for crimes in this world – the devil’s work is rampant at times. But it is not necessarily there, and that distinction is well beyond being of little importance, and possibly one of the most important aspects of a crime.
Now, the one place where I disagree heartily with the legal system is that people who’s really convicted of crimes rarely get the actual rehabilitative help they truly need to rejoin society as fully functioning, contributing, and valuable members of society. Often, they are merely given fines and/or locked up for a long time, and then released, older and a bit wiser, but not likely healed from whatever caused them to commit a crime in the first place. That, to me, is extremely sad and unequivocally important. However, that set aside for the moment, as there is nothing that would handle it so immediately as to be relevant today, my mind really went in a direction I had not fully expected for today (though, it did not surprise me truly).
Wanting to be on that jury felt odd. I would not be at all surprised if the defendant had done the crime of which he was accused. But I also would believe that he hadn’t done it at all, or hadn’t done it in a sound mind with the true intention of injury that may have resulted from it. But I knew I could see both sides openly, and that I could call out my automatic judgements and biases rather well – after all, I had been doing it since we’d started the afternoon’s questioning.
I had major biases that came up for each of the attorneys present, as well as the rest of the people in the room. And I intentionally let each of those drop, so that I could consider what was actually being offered to me, instead of my predetermined judgements. One side had a good-looking attorney and then a mostly smooth-talking attorney who asked all the questions. Though I fully love my state, I did not trust these young and clean-cut state attorneys. As I thought about it throughout the afternoon, I came up with a clear way to say how I seem to approach everything and everything: I am respectfully skeptical of everyone (and everything). I notice my biases and immediately look to see how things would be different without them. I typically alter my behavior with my thinking, whenever necessary in those moments.
The other side of the trial had an older, somewhat dumpy-looking (due to fat, not any actual unkempt nature of the man – he was quite clean and together) attorney who was not great with technology (but he figured it out well enough!), and a slow-talking and occasionally bumbling attorney who was clearly not the best at switching between reading and speaking on the fly. My natural instinct was to trust the good-looking attorneys and not the not-good-looking ones, to trust the easygoing quick-tongued one and not the slower one. But I saw those biases and did not trust them as truth. They are merely judgements, and do not necessarily determine what is actually true. Like with the slower talking attorney who struggled with the back-and-forth of questioning and reading his notes and adapting to changes – we all learn differently. Anyone can look like an idiot in the right setting, and anyone can thrive and seem like a genius in the right setting. These men are no exception. One lawyer thrives on the talking, the other does not. It does not mean that the latter cannot make a better legal case – just that it won’t have such pretty words and fluidity as the former’s.
So, anyway, having constantly to set aside my judgements had me realize that I not only could be quite valuable on a jury, but that I wanted to be on the jury because I felt I could be fair in my judgements. Even if the man had done the crimes, if the court could not provide evidence in support of it beyond a reasonable doubt, he is innocent in court, no matter if the whole jury were to think him guilty; he must be declared innocent of the crimes. Taking it one step further, no matter the outcome in court, his behavior going forward for the rest of his life will determine for him what happens for eternity for him. Either he will be with God or he will not be with God. Whatever the case, that part is on him in this life, determined by him and by him alone. We have no say in that. But we do have say as to whether the evidence provided supports one way or the other the accusation given to this man. (And, somehow, that realization this morning made all the difference for me.)
In the end, nine men and three women were selected, and they didn’t even make it past the 50s in the selections. So, though I very much expected to be on the jury, they never even got to discuss me as a possibility. I’d briefly forgotten what I had been grateful to remember initially this morning that juries are selected in order, only moving forward if one is denied – a jury could be the first 12 jurors if no denials arise on either side of the case, however unlikely that may actually be. Ours had the first half of the jury filled by juror ten, at which point I remembered how they filled a jury and was bummed out a bit. I likely was the only person released today who wasn’t really glad to have been released.
God granted me understanding and a change of mind, as I very much anticipated, and somewhat didn’t want. Haha
Now, it was perfect that I’d had the duty today, as it placed me near the car dealership. Just as I was leaving, I cracked my windows a bit to let out the hot air from inside the car. I rolled them all back up a few seconds later as I drove out of the parking lot to head home.
And I heard a metallic-like CRACK!
In some degree, the rear passenger window had come off its railings in a malfunction, and would not slide up anymore. I pulled over only to find that the window could slide casually down and down and down.
Not good.
So, I dropped it to the dealership – because this has to be covered under warranty, since I rarely use the window and the car isn’t even three years old – even though they had no appointments available for the final 40 minutes of their workday. The manager was actually helpful and kind to me, though – I’d never met him before, but I had had lots of struggle with agents in the past there – and sent me on my way in an Uber rather quickly, after a free snack and drink. (I had a soda can of V8 that was just veggies with tomatoes, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.) Someone will look at the window in the morning, and they’ll let me know the full situation. Until then, it will sit inside a shop, with window tape covering the slightly open window. It might be a few days for parts to be ordered and delivered. They would give me a free rental car, but only once they know what’s wrong and confirm it is warranty-valid (versus tampering). So, I’ll have to go back to get the rental car, which is rather far from home. So, we’ll see what happens.
Whatever the case, sure glad I had the jury duty summons today, which put me right by the dealership, and sure glad I don’t have the case the rest of this week, so I don’t have to figure out how to get way out there without my vehicle tomorrow.
Phew!
God sure has a way of helping us to find gratitude in upsets.
I have a jury duty summons for tomorrow. The courthouse is about 40 minutes away, without traffic. Start time is 8:30am. Compensation barely covers the cost of gasoline to get there and back.
Jury duty frustrates me immensely, and on multiple levels. I won’t get into it now, but I will mention one thing.
People claim that Voir Dire, the questioning of potential jurors by the lawyers to determine whether they will be on the jury or not, means, “to tell the truth”. It absolutely does not. It means, “to see to say”. I speak French. I know these words and I use them regularly in French. I also use the various words for “truth,” none of which are “voir” or anything like it. “To tell the truth,” would be, “Dire la vérité.” “Voir dire,” only equals, “To see to say.”
So, I went ahead and grilled Chat GPT on it. It gave some basic boring information, quoting all the same articles I had already crossed. But I kept pushing it to find the sources behind the sources, and, after taking much about the Medieval French practices of law, we came to this simple response/explanation:
Yes, you are correct. The term “voir dire” in its legal context originally referred to the process of “seeing” or “observing” what potential jurors said or how they responded to questions during their examination. It was used to assess their qualifications, impartiality, and credibility to determine if they were suitable to serve on the jury for a particular case.
The word “voir” in French means “to see,” and it has never meant “truth.” The term “voir dire” itself does not directly translate to “to speak the truth” in French.
The term “voir dire” originated in medieval England during the Norman Conquest when French legal terms were introduced into the English legal system. “Voir dire” was used to describe the process of “speaking the truth” or “telling the truth” during the examination of witnesses or jurors in legal proceedings.
While the term “voir dire” itself comes from the Old French words “voir” (to see) and “dire” (to speak), its usage in the legal context in England evolved to represent the idea of truth-speaking during the examination of witnesses and jurors.
Bam. I am satisfied that a reputable source agrees with me that evolution of terminology has happened in the case of “voir dire,” and that it does not mean “to speak the truth,” no matter how many times people claim it. It merely references a time when potential jurors are expected to speak the truth, and the lawyers observe the responses and determine how to proceed with each potential juror based on those responses. And it still means “to see to say”.
Goodnight.
God, let me go home early tomorrow morning, please. In your name, I pray. Amen.
I am worn out, exhausted tonight. I still haven’t recovered fully from whatever bug I had that made my throat burn Friday night through this morning, though my throat recovered late this morning. But my body is still tired from working so hard throughout it all, and possibly still today, to fight off the bug. However, I pulled weeds of grass out of the flower bed today, and that was quite satisfying to have that completed. That’s especially so, considering that most of it was probably there from when I turned the lawn mower around while it was too close to the beds, and it shot cut grass all into the freshly planted and watered beds… So, there’s that.
I’m too tired to focus on saying anything else right now.
Goodnight, God. Thank you for the love. Heal us all, please. Amen.
Today, we had a reunion for my childhood swim team. Not very many people showed up, but a few of the most significant ones for me were there, and it was awesome. Also, the cookies one person made were actually delicious – both the cookie itself and that lemon icing were awesome.
Now, I really wish we had an adult version of summer swim team. Not super competitive, but enough to give us a goal and a bit of a challenge to work on improving our swimming. For the people who love swimming and swim team, but don’t want to dedicate their lives to it or anything. Somewhere between the college athletes and the drunken social kickball – that’s what I would love to have for swim team. That would be awesome.
I was not great at swim team, as practices were in the early morning, and I was not a morning person until just a couple years ago. So, I never improved much during the season, not like most others in the team who went to practice even half the time. But I loved it when I did go to practices, and I loved the whole social and family aspect of swim team. We really were all like family to each other, and it was amazing. The older kids watched out for, taught, coached, and had fun with the younger kids, and everyone learned so much with each other and from each other. We had some valuable bonds that were different from standard friendships. I guess that was s team bond. Seeing each other today was so easy and wonderful, though most of us hadn’t seen each other for close to 20-25 years. And there was no hurt that we hadn’t stayed in each others’ lives – we hadn’t expected to do so, you could say. But we all valued the time we did spend together and the relationships we had then. And we reveled in getting to touch base outside of swim team… decades later.
Thank you, God, for this wonderful time today. Please, heal this cold that I seem to have. Help to heal us all. Amen.
While emotionally difficult, the film “The Sound of Freedom” is an important and valuable film, especially for those who have little exposure to information of human trafficking and its statistics.
Human trafficking is a true thing, unfortunately, and, many could say, undeniable work of the devil, as spooky or odd as that might sound. I, myself, had the thought tonight, Why does God allow this? And I realized immediately: He doesn’t. It is not God’s will or work at all…
So, go see “The Sound of Freedom”, a film that portrays rather well the true story of a Homeland Security officer who was moved by the encouragement of God to valuable, illogical, immensely dangerous, and life-saving action. Then, spread the word to upload hotel and hotel room photos to TraffickCam.com in order to help AI help to identify where trafficked people are being kept, transferred, and photographed. They are both small yet significant steps on helping to heal the world and to slow down the terrifying rate of human trafficking, in hopes of eventually ending it altogether.
If you’re ever in Houston, stop by A 2nd Cup, a coffee shop dedicated to educate on and to help end human trafficking. As they say, they are more than a cafe – they are coffee with a cause. And their coffee and teas are actually quite good to drink, too.
In addition to that, love. Please, love. Especially those who are the worst of company, show them mercy’s no show them love. If you cannot show your own love to these people, show them God’s love. The only way truly to heal our world and its many sadnesses and evils is with love. Let people know that they matter – they, too, are children of God, even if they have strayed from His path and will in their lives. It is likely a lack of love that led them astray in the first place. They, too, and they, especially, need love. So, I ask you, please, to love.
Dear God, help us to love, please. Give us the courage we need to help heal the world through your love. In your name, we pray. Amen.
hannah ananas 