Why I Don't Copyright

Right off, I'll say this post applies only to me, to the decision I've made for myself. I do understand the other side of copyrighting material, so I hope no one will feel he/she must defend their own decision to copyright, ok?

If you're in a smokin' hurry to zoom down your blogroll, here's my short, short answer why I've not copyrighted the material in my blog:

"Freely you have received, freely give." Matthew 10:8

In the nearly 6 years I've had this blog, I've received some of the sweetest comments and emails, ever. You've told me you passed around my words on sheets of paper in home Bible studies, read them from the stage of your church, emailed them to people who were hurting or stuck them to the front of your refrigerator. You've mailed them by snail mail, folded them into your diary and tucked them into the edges of your bureau mirror.

I love that. All of it. Why? Because this blog is the one place in my life where I feel God speaks through me, at least some of the time. It truly feels--again, sometimes--as though He's using my fingers upon this keyboard to share some truths simply, as in, an ultra-simplistic style. 

And since He's the one who's giving me the good words, well, I, in turn, wish only to pass them along to you in this learning place, available 24/7. 

At no cost, with no restrictions. Just, well, freely.

Of course, someone could zip over to my blog, copy something and then proceed to share it as though it came from them, charging for it, even. But you know? I choose to believe God will deal with them about that-- He takes care of those things. You know, vengeance being His and all that.

But right now at this phase in my life? He's caring for me just fine, money-wise, included. At this moment in Time my needs are few and they are met by Him. 

So freely I give to you what He's freely giving me. 

And it all belongs to Him--the credit, the glory, and the comments you leave me, also. It's all His, so take what you will from my blog and use what you wish, where it will help the most. 

Freely.



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Ah. The fog is finally lifting.

The sleep-interrupted, too-much-tv-watching, tired ol' caregiver fog, that is. The one which has made me--yes, I'll say it--crabby.

Always, when Tom has surgery I feel total simpatico with those of you caregivers out there, whether you care for someone who is 50 or 70 or 2. Color me tipping my hat to you, ok?

But since some clouds are still puffing within this head of mine, I'll let Sylvia Jorrin speak to you more clearly from her book, Sylvia's Farm. May this piece about her mother encourage you who wonder if what you're doing now for your children (and others) will remain with them in the future:

"I remember most vividly the kitchen on Ocean Avenue. Gray marbleized Formica on the kitchen table. Black vinyl seats on the chairs. Cream gauze curtains on the windows that shut out neither the summer sunlight nor the dark of winter's evenings. And the pantry where we both spent the evening doing the dishes. I talked and she listened. Everything was in order. There was a place for everything where the everything could always be found. I remember the silence in that room as I rushed into it as a teenager, a whirlwind of joy or despair and everything in between. The silence and security and order. The love in that room was absolute and impenetrable. It almost had to be pushed aside to walk through it. Nothing, nothing could ever cause even a ripple in that silent, thick air. The sense of security was expressed in that order. The knowledge of love was in my mother. And it filled the room in its entirety."

For over seven hours we were at the hospital yesterday. During Tom's surgery I sat at a tiny Bistro table in a windowed corner and read A Year On Ladybug Farm, drank coffee, ate snacks and stared out at the bare trees and grey, grey skies. Then during Tom's recovery I sat beside him, stared out more windows and watched the nurses and listened to patients ordering ginger ale. It felt almost like a bar back there with fellow non-alcohol drinkers, but of course.

How wonderful to arrive home! I printed out your notes for Tom (and those at Facebook, too) and he wanted me to tell you thanks for your kindnes, prayers and good wishes. He appreciated them so very much.

And now we enter the healing season...

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Bonnie in Nebraska left an interesting comment to my previous post about keeping Jesus, first:

"I have been holding onto something sooo long. When it becomes part of you (as often things do when we hold onto them for dear life), it becomes difficult to figure out if God put it there or if we did. Any thoughts on this?"

I smiled at the, "Any thoughts on this?" part for, alas, Debra has thoughts on everything. heh. That's what buys her trouble sometimes.

But here is the short version of my thoughts concerning Bonnie's question:

Often one of two things happens. One, it's possible to throw ourselves into a 'ministry' (or a job, a calling, a years-long good deed fest) which God never even asked us to do. And then, along the course, we begin grabbing from this ministry lots of 'food' to feed our ego and make us feel special or needed or important. When actually? It's Jesus, Himself, who desires to meet those specific needs of our heart.

So when He begins convicting us about leaving that self-appointed ministry, we panic. Where will we be without all those kudos which have been keeping us going? Or we might disguise that thought with, "What will the people do without me?" But shouldn't the goal be, "How can I help these people appreciate Jesus more?"

Or the second thing? God, Himself, did choose a ministry/calling/job for us and we did just as He asked. For awhile. But then all the me, me, me stuff which I mentioned, above, takes root in our heart and what began as a ministry to and from and about God becomes all cloudy and turns into a ministry to and from and about us. And it's just as possible to delude ourselves into thinking we're still all about helping others and obeying God when, along the way, it became about helping ourselves.

Of course, sometimes God just finishes using us in an area. But if we're too connected? It's as though we're left sitting upon a dead horse, shouting for it to run! as it once did.

Trust me. I know about this one, for I've done it both ways. I've started out wrong and ended up wrong and started our right and ended up wrong, too.

But oh, how it blesses God's heart--and the hearts of others--when we start out right and finish right.


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Proverbs 16:2

"All a man's ways seem innocent to him,
but motives are weighed by the Lord."

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Have an extra two minutes? You might like this post from another blogger along similar lines.