So I'm still
Well, the good news is that folks loved this series. The bad news? The vast majority complained that a few episodes are missing. One-hundred-eleven available episodes just aren't enough, I guess.
Come on, people. Whatever happened to feeling grateful for what we do have? And when did it become okay/dandy with God to criticize and accuse and feel as though Life (and Netflix) is plotting against us?
Well, yes, we were warned about Our Times:
I mean, hey... Think about the Old Days when-- if your favorite tv series showed a remarkable episode--you had to wait months to view it again. After that? It could disappear forever. Yet in 2016! You can buy dvd's and watch an episode/movie 300,000 times if you'd like. Remember when we used to dream about being able to do that?
Personally I believe if we want more of anything, God must first see that we're grateful for what He's already given us.
Really, it's time to stop wondering why we're not happy like in our younger years. Fortunately, the time, the chance, is here to make changes:
Gratitude is necessary before more good comes our way.
After all, why would God give us more if, eventually, we'll just start complaining about it? That would hardly make sense. And God always makes sense--even when, to us, He doesn't appear to.
"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." ... 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Speaking of The Old Days, my buddy, Judy, shared this article with me about more folks who've chosen to decorate their homes (and even their wardrobes) totally in vintage style with respect to a certain era/decade.
They certainly inspire me to go more whole-hog rather than just playing around. :)
And also, speaking of Emergency ... Bobby Troup's daughter, Ronne, (remember her from My Three Sons?) reviewed her mother's book, Once I Was a Debutante. Now, I don't plan to read this (an affair is mentioned and I'm sure other things are written which I'd rather not know), but I appreciated Ronne's daughter's quote from an essay she wrote about her grandmother in high school:
"When we would visit her, I could hear the clock tick quietly through the house, pouncing out around the room, on the stained glass lamp, and the scrumptious purple and green bunches of plastic grapes sitting on the stove. I loved that house, it was all her. She was her pale blue pool, the red stone sculptured dog, the little metal woodpecker on the tree, and the hot, dirty bronze bull figurines tramping motionless on the cobblestone tables by the pool."
Nifty, right? I especially liked: "I loved that house, it was all her."
There's more to the essay and of course, Ronne's review. To read both, go here.