Love and Money

Love and money.

The truly blessed have both.

Most have one or the other ... though they may question if there's an adequate supply of either.

The cursed have neither.

The vast majority gravitate through times when they're plush with cash and have love but one runs out while the other wanes or disappears altogether.

If you've ever had one of either you quickly acknowledge you want more.

They're like being addicted to crack.

If you have both then you're dually addicted!

Dual addictions are tough to treat though they can be quite ecstatic when you're high on both and you look so damn happy.

Those with empty pockets and no one to hold hands with look every bit as depressed as they actually are!

If God opened up the Master Prayer book so we could examine it, I suspect that prayers for love and money rank 1 and 2.

There's probably a big drop off before 3, which is HEALTH ... closely followed by 4 "PLEASE GOD GET ME OUT OF THIS!"

But it's love and money that consume us, keeping us up at night, forcing us to lose focus, make wishes, pour out our souls to anyone who'll listen, go to Church and buy lottery tickets.

I'm at a place where I've got so much love it's tsunami-like so that parts great!

And I count myself lucky because there's enough money to get through now and I feel guilty asking for more when I know so many who don't have any.

Though honestly, I want more money but not because I want more than what I have.

I'm just exceedingly happy with what I got.

Where God is

During a delightful lunch with my friend Kyle Shriver yesterday, a bit of magic happened.

Sitting outside at Huck-a-Poos, a pizza joint and bar that's decorated with record album covers because it caught on fire once and rather than rebuild everything they just covered it up.

We're on the big deck under massive oak trees on a bright sunny day munching on gyros, salad and the largest slice of pizza ever.

I'm talking about how I'm writing a lot about how silent God is when so many desperately need to hear from the Creator of everything.

As soon as I say it, Kyle, who is a very tall man with very long red hair cascading down a very thin face, neck to broad shoulders becomes a little kid on Christmas morning.

His eyes explode from his face as he leans forward with a happy smile ready to give me the answer.

Before he can, I hold up my hand and said, "Oh I know."

He sat continuing to grin as though completely satisfied with everything he got for Christmas.

Kyle is a musician and a very talented one who's played throughout the country and knows lots of great singers and players.

He's also a spiritual person who started "The SPIRIT CENTER" and administers a Facebook group called "SPIRIT" which is full of encouragement.

Over the past few years I've watched him transform into a storyteller, musical, encouraging minister who's mastered humility mixed in equal proportion with confidence ... no small feat!

"God's inside," I say a Nanosecond before he does.

"Yes," he says in a very holy and ministerial sort of way.

And that was it.

Two ... but no more though it could have been ... had gathered in His name ... shared communion ... passed peace back and forth several times ... and affirmed our belief that God is alive and well inside of us.

And an Oh Happy Day led to an O Holy Night.

God's Silence

She lost her job, can no longer afford the place she lives and is trying with everything in her not to panic.

Already having suffered through tremendous loss ... deaths and divorces ... hope is hard to hold onto.

With little other choice, she's taking everything one day at a time.

There are people who love her but they can do little more than say so.

More than ever, she's appreciative of every act of kindness shown to her.

And more than ever she believes in God.

Each of her prayers being with the word "Why?" or "Please!"

God remains silent during these times which tests her faith but she doesn't know what else to believe in because Karma doesn't seem to be working out, magic's never happened and other religions don't seem right.

It doesn't take long to weigh few options.

"It all works out the way it's supposed to," she says to anyone who asks because it's better than blaming others or, worse, herself.

So she works in her tiny garden, pulling weeds, talking to flowers and desperately tries to grow more hope.

Staring at the dirt on her hands, she feels the sun shine and pauses to notice it hanging in a deep blue, cloudless sky and feels like crying but doesn't.

Birds sing and she looses herself in their songs.

Perhaps a minute later, though it could have been thirty, she's still sitting beside the tiny garden where there's nothing else for her to do.

"I just don't understand," she says out loud. "Please let it work out somehow!"

And the sun shines.

The birds sing.

God remains silent.

And she tastes the salt water rolling down her face.

The opening of the windows

As important as Christmas and Easter ...

Rosh Hashanah or Passover ...

Ramadan ...

is the annual opening of the windows.

After being cooped inside because of cold weather, spring finally overthrew the tyranny of Winter and bitter northeast winds become balmy southern breezes.

The heater is turned off.

Shoes are put away.

Landry is lost.

In complete holy happiness, I dance to each of the 22 windows in  our house and open them in ecstasy.

Hymns from Bob Marley, Jimmy Buffett, the Beach Boys and Jim Morris are sung in the background.

Sunshine baptizes our home and the salt air of a sea breeze kisses everything.

Finally in the kitchen, the glass doors slide open and the Beloved Back Deck becomes one with the house bringing fresh scents of blooming flowers, choirs of birds and the playfulness of squirrels.

 "Righteous" I say out loud.

In the distance the ocean roars in approval.

Grabbing Sarah I kiss her salty bare skin in celebration of this high holy day!

Others are worshipping in other ways today but we've invited the Grand Cathedral that God built inside!

Who needs a musty old building to celebrate God?

They can have their stained glass windows!

We'll take our open ones.

What's wrong with this picture?

The assignment is to make art out of a drawing of a light bulb on a piece of paper.

Students must complete the page within a predetermined period of time because it is one of many skills being tested to gain acceptance into the school's "Gifted" program.

Alas, an artist took too long "creating art."

Instead of quickly drawing a smiley face or a bug inside of the outline ... or even yellow sticks depicting sunbeams, Cassidy took her time creating!

Using the entire page as her canvas to create a hair salon, Cass paints a scene of customer sitting in a chair getting his hair cut by a stylist as another waits her turn.

Colorful bottles line the shelves of the salon establishing a colorful array of "product".

The stylist has a pair of scissors in one hand and "Hair Spray" in the other, wears a necklace, a pink shirt and brown pants.

The customer wears a blue shirt, glasses and, apparently happy with the experience, a broad smile with outstretched arms.

The funniest thing about it are the "institutional"  words on the page encouraging participants to "THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX."

Cassidy did that but because she failed to comply with the allotted time constraints, she did not meet the minimum requirements to be accepted into the "Gifted program."

What's wrong with this picture?

I'm not just referring to institutional testing but many of the social, religious, governmental and family "norms" inflicted on people.

Making things great almost always takes longer than anyone ever thinks.

Just like great things are mostly outside of predetermined expectations.

Each of our lives is a blank canvas for us to create the person we wish to become.

Most people ... teachers, preachers, politicians, even those who love us most ... place constraints and their own expectations into the artistic act of "creation."

It's one of the things wrong with the world!

We can never really be ourselves when listening to the demands of others.

I thank God for artists, musicians, renegade preachers, honest politicians (an oxymoron) and family who really do encourage us to be everything we're capable of being!

These are the true heroes in the world!

Not those other leaders ... the teachers, preachers, politicians and family members ... who are all the same.

And to you Cassidy, I say "YOU GO GIRL!"

The beauty of the earth

In the middle of an unstable air system the weather prophets proclaim gloomy days ahead... the sun pops out from a blanket of purple clouds in a blue sky.

Dew drips from blossoms trees while choirs of birds loudly sing hymns of praise.

Half of the plants on the Beloved Back Deck are blooming away, sprinkling purple and red flowers, around the naked sticks that may not have survived.

A Finch hovers over a petunia while Gypsy the cat wistfully stares through the screen door.

Puddles of pollen rest on the outdoor table which I'll clean shortly.

A sense of calm has settled in an unstable world full of gloomy economic forecasts, abdicated political leadership, egotistical religion, missing people and misplaced faith.

I'm feeling blessed.

The last several years saw seismic changes and virtually everything about the way I live has transformed.

A very unstable time is now comforting stable.

I don't worry about much though there's certainly much to worry about.

People I love are fighting cancers, economics, lost loves, dreams, hopes and faith.

Lately I've taken to prayerfully whispering their names at night when I can't sleep and they comfort me somehow because I'm lulled back into unconsciousness.

The unstable darkness becomes stable.

In the midst of a world gone crazy I watch flowers bloom, listen to birds sing, am baptized in sunshine and am kissed by an ocean breeze.

I find myself humming a tune and words raise themselves from the dead in my mind.

For the beauty of the earth
For the spacious of the skies
For the love which from our birth
over and around us lies ...

And this day starts with an Amen.  

Visiting with my Grandma

On a bitterly cold day my Grandma Carver and I are zipping in a Golf cart through the marsh near the sea.

She's bundled so tightly I can only see the water dripping out her eyes beneath her glasses.

We wanted some time alone and there were too many people at my folks house so we just disappeared.

I was in Seminary then, working as a "Professional Christian" at the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel in Louisville, Kentucky and was home for the holidays.

My Grandmother had the incredible of laser focusing love so that you knew without a shadow of a doubt you were the most special person ever born.

She unleashed her focused love on nine children, 37 grandchildren and several thousand great-grandchildren and beyond.

Granddaddy and Grandma took the Bible seriously and then they read "go forth and multiply" ... they did!

If you asked each of us individually we'd all say they loved us the most.

They really knew how to love.

When Jesus said it's more blessed to give than receive, I think what he meant is the more love you give away ... the more you become.

I've always tried to follow my Grandparents example by giving a lot away.

I'm often told I shouldn't, at least for free, and I suppose its true though I fear I might be letting my Granddaddy and Grandma down somehow if I stopped.

Aside from tee shirts, I'm not much of a hoarder though I will stick things in the storage room and forget about them.

I don't know.

Grandma Carver's been talking to me a lot lately and, just like in that Golf cart on a brutal cold day with water streaming out of her eyes, she pats me on the leg and tells me she loves me.

Then she says how proud she and Granddaddy are of me.

"Keep doing what you're doing," I hear her plainly say sitting alone in the kitchen with Goddess fur rubbing my bare feet.

This is after she keep me up last night while I snuggled next to Sarah but Grandma's determined to tell me it's okay to stop being concerned about everybody else for a while.

"Love what you got," and I swear to God I feel her hand on top of mine resting on top of Sarah's.

"Stay focused on what you want," and I can see her eyes looking into mine.

"Give it your all," and then she takes her leave to visit my cousin Debbie, help Sheri clean a Chapel in Heaven, horseback with Ricky, fish with Uncle Fred or cut up with Uncle Bud and my Dad.

"Because that's how you get it all," and Grandma and Jesus and great crowd of others leave Sarah and I sleeping alone in what we got.

The Community of Lost Musicians

Pulling the guitar out of the car I rush because the wind whipping off the ocean is brutal, the sun has set, it's pitch black though good Karma and the secret of acceptance led me to a lone parking place directly in front of Doc's Bar.

Rushing pass the bar and folks playing bumper pool, I give hugs to the players already playing in a church like sort of greeting with the community of lost musicians.

At some point in each of our lives music came first.

Some aggressively pursued it while others just wished or sang in the car with the radio blaring ... perhaps alone in the shower.

At this point in our lives though, we're all players again.

Every Tuesday night in the back room of Doc's Bar the congregation gathers. Some sit on a pew while the rest take bar stools.

And the sharing begins.

Everyone takes a turn taking the lead.

We go round and round, sharing songs and stories, mistakes and marvelous moments of wonder.

Those in the bar or playing bumper pool likely hear our choir of drunken angels.

It's very church like in that the community of believers are never the same and their is no High Priest.

Actually we resemble a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous with guitars, harmonicas, conga drums, an occasional upright bass and an autoharp last night!

There's lots of encouragement though everyone screws up forgetting lyrics or mishitting chords.

It doesn't matter because we're all doing the best we can to share ourselves.

A couple have higher aspirations to get paid to play but its just the joy of the music that keeps us coming.

I wish church was more like this.

Politics too!

Two hours quickly pass so I load up my ax, stumble outside and see Tybrisa Street is completely engulfed in Tybee cops.

They got bad ass faces and guns.

I got a guitar.

I like my chances.

Still Waiting

A year ago today I wrote about how "waiting is the hardest part," quoting Tom Petty.

I also invoked George Harrison's "It's takes so long my Lord."

Like today, it was a cold and rainy morning though the sun battled mightily for supremacy in a clouded sky.

I was in a stuck place, impatiently waiting on others to get back to me.

They weren't and it was really getting under my skin!

I was trying to holy about it, saying prayers and finding hope in the tiniest of things.

A lone bird perched on a wet limb burst out in a Hymn of Praise and I took it as a sign from God that everything was working out.

Well, a year's passed and I'm still waiting on some things.

I feel stuck and it's really getting under my skin though I'm trying to be holy about it all though just now when a bird started singing outside I closed the sliding glass door not wanting to listen.

Impatiently scrolling on Spotify I listen to Tom Petty for the hundredth time in the last several days (the 1985 live version!) so I can commiserate with myself again.

Sarah's not here so I can commiserate with her again.

Besides she's as frustrated as I am.

So it's just me, Tom Petty, the dogs and God.

"Hey God," I say out loud. "Why is this taking so long?"

Laying at my feet Goddess sighs loudly.

"You are not speaking for God," I tell her so she rolls over wanting a belly rub and I give her one.

"Alright," I sigh sitting back down. "Time to get back to work ... waiting."

But somehow ... I don't know why or how ... it feels right ... faith-like ... the assurance of things hoped for ... the conviction of things not seen.

And the sun overcomes the clouds and the world is baptized in light.

A Monk-like morning

A cold wind blasts off the ocean cutting right through me as I rush inside The Breakfast Club where the mood is dour and dark.

Everyone is tired from the weekend and sleepily trying to find their footing on this Monday.

The satellite single fades in and out of the 70s station blaring above the grills so words are missing from familiar songs.

"Everybody plays the ... no exception to the ..."

"FOOL Dammit!" EVERYBODY PLAYS THE FOOL!" Jodee screams as he jiggles the wires.

The staff is busy preparing to open and aren't listening as they fill ketchep bottles, fry bacon, restock bread shelves and set tables.

Sitting beside me, John smiles but doesn't say anything.

I shrug my shoulders and sip coffee.

It's a Monk-like morning as the world swirls preparing for work and I sit prayerfully contemplating the universe.

There's nothing I really have to do today.

Except take care of Sarah who isn't feeling well and I dote on her anyway so her upset belly is just another reason to dote more.

We have to decide what to make the girls for dinner tonight but other than that ... I can sit Monk-like with no need to say anything to anybody except God.

"Mutha-fu ..." John mutters as the door opens and one of the most obnoxious customers in the universe takes the stool between us.

Immediately he talks about the weather, John's work and obscenely thrusts his pelvis towards Mindy who is bending over preparing a mornings worth of coffee.

John interrupts him by placing an order.

I ignore him by staring at the newspaper that I've already read lapsing back into morning prayers.

Minutes turn into seconds and John leaves so I'm alone with a man who just can't shut up.

Because he's utterly incapable of remaining silent, he asks, "So what are you doing today?"

This is when I love who I am. I have lots of answers depending on my mood.

If I want to talk I say I'm a writer and that leads to a billion questions.

If I want to confuse him, I say what I'm working on forcing him to think between asking what I'm talking about.

If I want him to shut the Hell up, I play my Baptist Minister card ... "I'm just talking to God today.

We're making plans."

He doesn't know what to say so he pays and leaves.

It works every time.

"ALRIGHT!" Jodee proclaims as Barry White "Can't get enough of your love baby."

Heaving myself up to brace the bitter wind, I salute, say "Goodbye Kiddies" and return home to check on Sarah who's still sleeping.

Meandering into the kitchen I stare out of the sliding glass doors at the leaves dancing in the breeze.

There's nothing to do except wait on God to say what we're doing next.

But I ask that Sarah feels better first.

Then ... it's back to waiting on God.

Sex at our house

Love is as strong as death the great King Solomon said or sang, depending on your point of view.

Many waters cannot quench it; neither can floods drown it (Solomon 8:6-7).

The Song of Solomon is one of my favorite books of the Bible.

It’s the “sex, drugs and rock-n-roll” part ministers ignore!

Solomon was tired of building a Temple, of his 700 wives and 300 concubines, meaning whores (I Kings 11:3), and was at the forefront of inventing the porn industry.

There is no mention of God, the Law, Israel, the Promised Land or Wisdom in this Biblical Book.

It’s pure sex … rough and ready!

The plot’s right out of a 1970s porn movie.

Boy lusts girl.

Girl lusts boy.

Then Marvin Gaye takes the lead from Angels singing, “Let’s get it on.”

The entire universe is suddenly composed of skin and breath and hair.

You don’t hear many sermons about such things in Church.

I do love reading the interpretations in big ol’ Biblical commentaries and on Google.

“Now kids … this isn’t about sex … it’s really about how much God loves Church! You know how exciting Church is! You should get it off in Church … not those other ways.”

I think Solomon disagrees.

I think GOD disagrees!

It’s crazy how most, especially religious people, disagree with God when it comes to sex.

Sex is good and we should work at it more to make it better.

Married couples … gay couple sex ( should be allowed to be married by the law of the land) … divorced people sex … exploratory teenage sex (among teenagers) … individual sex for those who can’t find another to share themselves … random elevator sex and the occasional sex in a Baptismal Pool … it’s all good!

And each and every one of us has done some …or … ­all of these.

It’s funny that we lie and claim we don’t.

That’s bearing false witness … meaning we break one of the 10 Commandments.

Enjoying sex does not mean breaking one of them!

Okay, I’m sweating a little … that’s bearing false witness because I’m sweating a lot … and wondering where Sarah is … THANK GOD! … she just turned on the shower.

Time to go bare some witness!!

Hallelujah!!

Free daily blog

Get my free daily blog sent directly to your e-mail now! Go to www.meellc.com and sign up in the red box below my picture. You will receive a confirmation e-mail that you need to click once. That's it! Easy and free.

Stay current by "liking" my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/micheal.elliott1!

Questions or need help? E-mail me at melliott@meellc.com.

God Threw me out!

God Threw Me Out!

I think God threw me out of Church!

I don’t know how else to explain it.

For 8 years, I was a “Professional Christian” employed as the minister of an inner city church.

We did quite well, living on faith, throwing caution to the wind, lots of people started attending and I got quite “Big Headed about it all.

So God threw me out.

So I became a very unprofessional Christian working helping less fortunate people.

I didn’t call them that.

That would be condescending because they are no less fortunate than I was.

Just in different ways.

We were very successful at that too, and naturally I got “Big Headed” again so God threw me out of there too.

Then I spent a lot of time mostly alone.

Just God and me.

We sat on the back deck, listening to the ocean in the distance, watching leaves dance in the breeze and blooms on the Hibiscus plants come and go.

“Hey God,” I asked one day, “Why’d you throw me out of those jobs? I was pretty good at them.”

God didn’t respond so I took it as a shrug of the Divine shoulders.

About a year later, I finally understood my time at both of those jobs ended when they should have.

Neither ended AS I thought they SHOULD HAVE but definitely WHEN THEY SHOULD HAVE.

Oh well!

You can’t have everything!

“Hey God,” I said after arriving at this conclusion, “Now what?”

I felt the Divine shoulders shrug again.

“I’d appreciate a lightning bolt every once in a while,” I sighed.

Another holy shrug. 

I did a lot of stuff over the next year but none of it worked out.

Then people started showing up at the house.

They were all running to something or from someone and needed advice, understanding and someone to believe in them.

We’d sit on the back deck and I’d listen which seemed to make everyone feel better about the decisions they made.

I’d follow up with them online and my mornings became a bustling flurry of personal communications, visits and phone calls.

Then I started getting “Thank you” letters, emails, texts and messages as friends moved to better places in life than they had been.

“Hey God,” I asked. “So I did those other things so I could learn how to do this?”

There was no need for God to answer.

I already knew.
_____________________
Please share if you agree, visit www.meellc.com or like our Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/micheal.elliott1

When I hate my writing

I opened the email for my daily blog and read it (You can get it too by signing to receive it at www.meellc.com ).

I hated it!

"Why did I write that?" I asked myself, sitting at the kitchen table watching the rain through the sliding glass doors.

It's a funny idea.

No matter how bad things are there's always someone worse off.

 

That got me thinking if you follow the logic long enough, eventually we could find the one person out of 7 Billion people who is worse off than the rest of us.

How bad off would that person be?

But I didn't like the way it came off.

It happens. As much as I try to make them funny, clever and uplifting sometimes I miss the mark.

In Hebrew, "sin" is defined as missing the mark.

Oh well.

I quickly forgave myself and started on the next one which is all about how to forgive yourself.

If you're interested in my sinful blog you can get it at www.meellc.com

Awesome you are!

"Awesome you are," is the first message I see on my Facebook page.

My friend Kyle sent it in the middle of the night. I've done some "coaching" with him as he transforms his life into the things he loves rather what others want him to do.

It's a nice way to start the day.

Clicking over to LinkedIn I enter a conversation I started weeks ago. Every day new folks contribute something and I read this from Tim!

"I can honestly say that I have not seen the injustices that you have seen or done half the good things (You know what they say about good intentions); however, I do believe that you were where you were meant to be at those times and that there is no way on Earth you could experience all that and not be changed."

Blown away I have to sit back!

Something special seems to be happening and I try to give it the space it deserves.

I have many friends and family members going through major life changes. Some transformations are wanted though others were completely uninvited. Babies are born, divorces devastate, jobs trap friends into sustaining without enjoying and God is content to keep quiet.

I make time to send these folks love, support and good Karma. They're family or clients and I'm intensely focused on them. As Tim explains, I'm where I am meant to be at this time and the things I'm experiencing keep changing me."

"You blessed many people by your actions or just by being present," is the next message.

I think we are all either a blessing or a curse to one another.

Blessing requires deliberation and action. We get off our ass and do something for someone while cursing means not giving a damn and we don't do anything. I prefer the blessing activities.

"We all are effected in some way by what we experience, it's what choice we make with those changes that determine how we grow and who we are from that point on," is the last part.

I turn the computer off and prop my feet on the railing of the back deck.

Over the past few years, I've had a hand in friends learning from experiences and making choices to change and grow beyond what they've always known. We've communicated, visited and had prolonged conversations where I was the one who believed in them.

I think more than anything else ... what's most important to us ... is too physically and spiritually have someone who believes in us when we struggle to believe in ourselves. We need someone whose "been there and done that" and will hold our hands in the dark places.

The fact of the matter, you are awesome!

Even awesome people need someone to believe in them when they struggle believing in themselves!

It's okay!

Now is the time for you to embrace how awesome you are!

It begins when you start doing things for you! Like having someone who believes in you!

Like now!

A Christmas Present for you!

When the little Virgin Mary waddled down the aisle everyone couldn't help but notice there were 4 feet instead of 2 underneath the blue choir robe doubling as what would soon be swaddling clothing.

The congregation giggled as the little Shepherds made their way to the stable in front of the pulpit.

They were followed by Tiny Angels in white robes popping up in the choir loft singing "Silent Night."...

A little black boy in a white robe screamed in a pre-puberty shrill, "Behold, today in the city of David, a Savior has been born unto you."

On cue, Mary rips open her robe and a 4 year old Jesus jumps into the little wooden manger.

The congregation of little old ladies, homeless people, kids who lived in the projects and a few Seminary students burst into applause!

Afterwards, young Mary and her new family, the tiny Shepherds, the little Angels, led the rest of us down the stairs to the social hall for the Great Banquet of a pot luck born in poverty.

Thirty years later, that Christmas still fills my soul with the spirit of Holy Things.

And on this Christmas Eve, we like to give you the gift of stories like this one throughout the year. Just go to www.meellc.com and say that you want them.

They're free!

Our presents to you throughout the year!

Blowing up the Holidays

On Christmas little boys don't drum, Angels keep quiet, Wise Men are nowhere to be found and the manger's empty. Poor Joes haul pregnant wives, fleeing higher taxes and the Census.

God's quiet as a church mouse and all is calm ... all is bright ... Peace on earth ... for what it's worth.

Many throw tensile on their loneliness ... to which I say, "IT'S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT!"

Read more at www.meellc.com It's free! Just sign up to receive my daily blog and it'll be there for you every morning!

Dreaming of a white Christmas?

Santa Claus and Jesus, according to FOX News' Megyn Kelly, are WHITE!

Lots of people are up in arms hearing this news ... especially black, brown, olive, red and yellow skin people ... but Megyn's just reporting the facts as she knows them.

It's not like she's the first person to say stupid shit in public.

The Southern Baptist Convention has proclaimed that Santa and Jesus were white men since the Civil War!

The fact is Santa Claus was from Turkey while Jesus was born in Israel. Both could have been light skinned but naturally tan easily.

Both could have been black skinned too ... with blue eyes!

Who knows?

The Coca Cola marketing department invented what Santa Claus looks like in the 1920s. Before that he was a tall, thin, elf who couldn't make up his mind what color coat to wear.

What Jesus looks like is anybody's guess since the Bible doesn't say one way or the other. BUT, most people living in Israel when he was born weren't white. It's a pretty good bet that he wasn't either.

You know what though, everybody dreams of a white Christmas!

Well ... except for black, brown, olive, red and yellow skin people ... and because I don't want any damn snow, I'm with them in complete solidarity!

The fact is ... "red and yellow, black and white ... all are precious in his sight."

You know why?

Cause Santa, and Jesus too, are red and yellow, black and white.
________________________________

My daily blog resumes tomorrow. Sign up now to receive it at www.meellc.com

What's a normal Christmas?

It's best to be honest, I prefer Christmas in the sand.

I'm not a snow person.

Hell! I'm not a cold weather person either! I detest it when the temperature is below 75.

I prefer Santa wear a bathing suit, mistletoe in Palm Trees, waves breaking on the reef, and stockings hung from the mast!

It's not normal Christmas behavior but then again I've never cared about "normal."

Then again, what is normal Christmas behavior?

If you want to set up a plastic Jesus in a manger, stay inside a church building or shop till you drop as ways of bringing good tidings of comfort and joy, I say "Go for it!"

I'd rather work on my tan, listen to some good tunes and look at Sarah in her bikini! I'd rather sail with Captain Morgan, skinny dip with good friends and cool off in the ocean! I'd rather have seafood pot pie, steamed oysters and hush puppies! I'd rather snuggle with Sarah in a hammock and find our presents under the Palm Tree!

Now that's a Christmas to enjoy!

What's your favorite way to enjoy Christmas?
_____________________________________

My daily blog resumes Monday. Sign up now to receive it at www.meellc.com right under my picture!

You Looking for me?

If you have been looking for me I really appreciate it!

There's been a daily blog for 4 years until a couple of weeks ago.

It was time to shake things up a bit but now I'm back!

Beginning Monday December 16 you can receive my daily blog via email.

It's easy!

Just go to www.meellc.com and register.

Then BOOM!

Laughter, intrigue, spirituality, Guardian Angels, Winston The Little Gay God, the Cat Lady, Conversations with God and political satire delivered straight to your inbox first thing every morning.

Do it now!

Looking forward to Monday.

Register now at www.meellc.com and you won't have to look for me.

I'll be there for you!