Rock of Ages

I am growing increasingly disappointed and saddened by friends in faith who would have been perfectly happy if Casey Anthony had been found guilty in less than a day, and therefore subject to the death penalty, but who are outraged over a finding of not guilty in that same amount of time. It has all taken on the tenor of a lynch mob, and the anger doesn't seem to be directed solely at her. The jury is being vilified, and Nancy Grace (how's that for a last name full of irony?) is leading the charge.

Ms. Grace is an attorney. She should know better than anybody else that a verdict of not guilty doesn't mean that the jurors believed she was innocent -- it never means that. Years ago my husband served on a jury for a trial dealing with the theft of a window air conditioning unit. I should explain here that he has always struck me as a "hang 'em high" kind of guy, so you could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me after it was all said and done that they found the guy not guilty -- but that everyone in that courtroom knew he was. The state had not proved its case. They had clearly shown Point A and Point C, but had neglected to provide a Point B. (And do not think for a minute that I'm putting the death of a child and the theft of property on the same level.)

Hate it all you want to, but when the State decides to charge a person with a crime -- particularly one in which death at the hands of the State is an option -- then they had better have a Point B.

It doesn't matter whether I think/believe Casey Anthony did any or all of the things for which she stood accused. If she had been found guilty, and sentenced to death I can well imagine that there would have been a cheer go up amongst the bloggers who were frothing at the mouth for her to come to justice. They might very well have called it God's justice, as though He requires us to give him the go-ahead for such.

You either believe God is a God of justice, even when you don't understand how or when it's going to work, or you believe that the mob should decide, and you're hoping construction starts on some new coliseums very soon.

In all of this, I have found myself wondering, what would Jesus do? How would He have me respond?

Seems to me that when He was confronted by an episode of mob justice He squatted down, picked up a stick, and began to write in the sand.

Go ahead. Pick up the rock.

I dare you to sling it. 

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: Guilt Free Potato Salad

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: Guilt Free Potato Salad: "Today's walk was all about 'earning' a little extra holiday BBQ, potato salad, and a cold beer. Sometimes that's as noble as it ..."

Garden Report, Week Ending July 2, 2011

The garden is just a hot mess. Literally.

This is why I am not out there taking pictures so much. It's just hot, and the mosquitoes have begun to laugh at Deet. I mean it. You could put me in a tub of that stuff and turn me loose in the backyard, and I would still come inside covered in bites.

It is my sweet disposition, I know. It's a heavy burden to bear.

Saturday morning, though I took a little hike -- early -- and when I got back, here's what was waiting for me!

 

That basket holds okra, carrots, and an assortment of peas and or beans. (You know I can't ever seem to remember.)

But we were most excited about the tomatoes, and I don't even eat 'em. Well, I mean, as a rule I don't eat 'em. Unless the man I love grows them for me, then I'm pretty much all about the tomatoes.

Therefore, I am interested in those tomatoes.

And these, too. These are staying right there until after the 4th of July Food Fest.

Now, can we chat for just a minute about those carrots in that basket?

I realize they are teensy. We were so sad when we pulled the first big batch of them up. We felt obligated to eat one, though, just as a way of honoring root vegetables.

Well, let me tell you, these things may be little, but they pack an unbelievable punch. I just wash 'em off and toss 'em in whatever I'm cooking. They take no time to get done.

When I eat them cooked like that I think of my Grandmama, and how she loved cooked carrots, and what a kick she would get out of these little midgets.

She had a little sign in her garden about God being nearer to us in a garden than anywhere else on Earth. I think He puts a whole lot of love in the stuff He lets us grow out there, that's for sure.

Have I digressed again?

***

We need about a gazillion more of these out there. They enjoy eating mosquitoes.

They also think they hide well.

I'm keeping him.

I named him Gomer.

 

***

This next bit has nothing to do with gardening.

Henry has fired up both smokers for the 4th of July.

Here are two pictures of one of them.

The other one didn't look this exciting.

It smells real fine out there right now.

 

***

This is a pretty dreadful picture of one of our sunflowers. Things were getting a little dark out there, and I was at the sort of angle that real photographers laugh behind your back when they see you doing it, but I don't care. There was just something about this I liked anyway.

You are free to disagree.

There are, however, no refunds.

By the way.... this is the little fun thing I put together last year about Henry and his smokin' butts.

This is exactly what the next couple nights here will look like.

Enjoy!