(zoom, zoom)
PS. Yes, I am a Christian. Yes, I am referring to sex. God thought of it first.
I am "one of those". A Tennessee Football Fan(atic). It goes all the way back to childhood, as I'd observe my typically reserved father burst into cheers and choruses of Rocky Top. The voice of John Ward, all time greatest sportscaster, permeated my autumn Saturdays, as I was growing up. My parents didn't have the time or money for season tickets. We almost never went in person to Neyland Stadium. But we were devoted from afar, glued to a radio or television, rarely missing a single game. I felt like crying when Ward finally retired, only a few years ago.
Certain phrases can only be appreciated by a Vol fan. Words like, "GIVE HIM SIX!" and "It's football time in Tennessee!"
Or, "the second Saturday in October...". Google those words, I dare you. They've found their way into Wickipedia - the saying has become our gift to pop culture. The generations-long rivalry between the Volunteers and the Crimson Tide is the stuff of history. Here, grandfathers tell their grandsons glowing tales of conquest and victory. Somehow, the defeats get lost to the annals of time.
Everything changes on a game day Saturday, here in Knoxville. You can feel a change in the air. The atmosphere becomes electric. The ethos of a whole city becomes that of grit and spit and celebration, while heartily singing hymns of the stadium. Orange flags are unfurled from every vehicle, and the game is broadcast over the loudspeaker of every grocery store. You can't live here and not be affected by it. East Tennesse would not be the place it is without its football.
I'm proud to say that the next generation are die-hards. My children now "holler n' yell", wear orange and white, and rearrange their lives so as not to miss watching important games on television. Even today, my husband and I are gleefully planning a trip to the store for plenty of chips, salsa, sodas, and whatever we think would be fitting for the first game of the season - whatever can be eaten "blindly", with both eyes on the football, awaiting the first snap from the center.
It has been a long, long time since we last saw a good game.
...and the tradition continues.....
Those words poured from the heart of King David. They are the rich creed of the thinking woman. It requires intellectual vitality to disentagle the knots of modern-day legalism. In the search to "feel better", we've created for ourselves a culture of therapy, where our every emotion is analyzed, our personalities categorized, and the results compared. We can't even enjoy work for the sake of work anymore. We no longer do "whatever our hand finds to do" with a hearty love for the Lord, with all our might, out of conviction alone....our job must match our personality. If not, we have somehow broken the Laws of Happy Living. Locked into a legalism of self improvement, we have sinned against the god of self if we find ourselves not enjoying our job.
Such an apalling lack of imagination. There was a time, when society was more intelligent and more grateful, when every sort of work, if it was hard work and made the lives of others better, was honorable and usually enjoyable.
According to this new legalism, even a simple smile should become an elaborate system of self improvement. Don't believe me? I ran across an article in a section of the magazine "Country Living", entitled "Smiling from the Inside Out - Lilias Folan shares the secrets of a powerful source of healing energy." For your enlightenment (and my utter amusement) I'll recount it for you here, word for word:
Begin by closing your eyes.
Focus attention on your mouth.
Recall someone or something that brings a genuine smile to your lips...
Radiate that smile up into your eyes.
Radiate the energy up into your left ear, then your right one.
Smile into your brain.
Smile into your tongue.
Send the smile down into your voice box.
Smile down into your heart. Feel your heart smiling back at you.
Smile into your left lung, then into your right lung.
Smile into your organs, bones, muscles, and nervous system and feel them all smiling back.
Smile that warm, healing energy to a spot that wants a little extra help today.
Folks, you can't make this stuff up. This is where the legalism of self awareness, and the rules of therapy culture take you.
Give me the simplicity of Christ and an effortless smile and some work for my hands to do. I promise, it will be enough for me.
John 12:24...Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
John 6:48 (Jesus said) "I am that bread of life."
Part of our dinner tonight...just-snapped green beans, simmered with plenty of onion and bacon, cherry tomatoes, seasoned with coarse salt, freshly ground pepper, and a splash of olive oil...simple.
The sunflower and zinnia garden, at its peak this week.
The finer offerings of August....
Candid shot (really!) of just a few of my Tools of the Trade...I snapped this just after planting some pots of rudbeckia this morning. Better to plant late, than to plant never! Hmmmmmm...isn't that also the way hoping in God is?
The last of the patio tomatoes. Not so "full-force" anymore.
Apples from "our" tree. Well...this tree is five steps away from the Atchley property line, and my retired neighbor Earl lovingly insists that we pick as much as we want, anytime we want. So yes. The tree is "mine". This harvest of apples is my harvest. A better batch of fried apples we never tasted! It so rocks to be me.
About a month ago, we wondered where our hummingbirds went. My husband, who loves to watch them, prayed out loud, in front of me, "Lord...please send our hummers back." Now, we have a Hummingbird Sighting every two minutes. Not even lying. They are everywhere, and fly disarmingly close to us, at all hours of the daytime. (photo by Hannah Atchley)
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Our Mammoth-variety (we are growing about four different kinds!) of sunflowers finally opened their faces two weeks ago. Here is one of them. (photo taken by Hannah Atchley)