Ah, April! Spring has finally found us, if a few weeks late. Today is a balmy, moist kind of day with low, grey clouds that blanket the sky in soft scallops with the hint of rain. I really don't mind the cloudy day, because the air is warm and the breeze is gentle, except for occasional gusts from the south. A storm may blow in tomorrow with severe weather in the forecast, followed by another cold front. So we enjoy today as we have the past couple of nice days.
The country fields and pastures and almost every as-yet unmowed lawn is carpeted in great drifts of purple--masses of flowers known by the homely little name of henbit. It is probably a weed, but a quite attractive one, at that. Some people call it chickweed, mistakenly, I think, because of the similar names.
Today before feeding our own chicks and hens, we diverged along the pasture lane past the pond to check out the waterfowl. Several black and white wild ducks were enjoying the water, some looking on from the sand bar, but with a quick flutter of wings they were airborne after seeing us. There was another flutter of wings from an old tree and I looked to see a large woodpecker, also disturbed by our presence.
As it flew past us, I could see it was bigger than the other woodpeckers that inhabit the trees, its red head bright against it's black and white feathers. Once before I had caught sight of a Woody Woodpecker type bird in our area, maybe a pileated woodpecker. I hope I see this one again.
It is always an event to catch sight of the huge blue heron that frequents the pond. On occasion, his rapid flapping to escape our intrusion is followed by a second great flapping of wings as another heron, obviously a mate, soars above us.
God has made such a beautiful world for us to enjoy. He paints the heavens with an ever changing skyscape, lest we get bored with the same art two days in a row. Just when it seems we can't wait another day for the new season, it arrives with all its special charms. And spring is one of my favorites!
Monday, April 8, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
A Mother is the Last to Know
Several weeks before Easter when I asked our son Jamie what was going on, he off-handedly said, "Well, we're having an Easter play at church." This brought on a few questions, such as "Are you in it?" (He was), and "Who are you in the play?" (An angel.) I remembered that he had the role of Peter in a previous play, but he was very close-mouthed about his performance, so I talked to his wife Tammy who gave me rave reviews.
Then when we were at Jamie's and Tammy's house a couple of weeks ago, he mentioned that he had been busy at play practice lately. After we got home, he again said a couple of times during our phone conversations that they were having an Easter play. I didn't ask what it was about, assuming it was the traditional pageant, since he played an angel.
When the countdown was on and the last practice was scheduled, I asked him how it was going. He sounded hopefully optimistic, then laughingly said a little self-consciously, "I wrote it."
"You WROTE it!" I exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He laughed again, and said, "I don't know."
"And I suppose you are directing it, too, as well as acting in it!" Affirmative.
Finally, the play was over and I was curious to know how it went. The only clues I could put together were comments to him from his Facebook friends. They used words like: Awsome; Fresh and funny; and "I love the theme of resurrection of dreams and desires."
Since my son was so self-deprecating, I questioned Tammy, and she told me what a mother's heart wanted to hear. "Everyone loved it!" she exclaimed. "They were laughing so hard in the funny parts; but there were serious parts, too," she said. I could hear the note of pride in her voice when she related, "They said it was the best Easter play we've had in years!"
Jamie finally told me it was something of a blend and takeoff on It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. He said the main character chokes on a meatball, dies, then realizes he hasn't fulfilled his purpose, nor used his talents and abilities. Evidently he gets a second chance, making an entertaining presentation with a serious message.
My son told me he had a message to go by the church office to pick something up the other day. It was a gift card from the church for a steak dinner for him and his wife in appreciation of his work on the play. "The secretary said she really liked it," he admitted modestly. Coming from him, that's saying a lot!
Then when we were at Jamie's and Tammy's house a couple of weeks ago, he mentioned that he had been busy at play practice lately. After we got home, he again said a couple of times during our phone conversations that they were having an Easter play. I didn't ask what it was about, assuming it was the traditional pageant, since he played an angel.
When the countdown was on and the last practice was scheduled, I asked him how it was going. He sounded hopefully optimistic, then laughingly said a little self-consciously, "I wrote it."
"You WROTE it!" I exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He laughed again, and said, "I don't know."
"And I suppose you are directing it, too, as well as acting in it!" Affirmative.
Finally, the play was over and I was curious to know how it went. The only clues I could put together were comments to him from his Facebook friends. They used words like: Awsome; Fresh and funny; and "I love the theme of resurrection of dreams and desires."
Since my son was so self-deprecating, I questioned Tammy, and she told me what a mother's heart wanted to hear. "Everyone loved it!" she exclaimed. "They were laughing so hard in the funny parts; but there were serious parts, too," she said. I could hear the note of pride in her voice when she related, "They said it was the best Easter play we've had in years!"
Jamie finally told me it was something of a blend and takeoff on It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. He said the main character chokes on a meatball, dies, then realizes he hasn't fulfilled his purpose, nor used his talents and abilities. Evidently he gets a second chance, making an entertaining presentation with a serious message.
My son told me he had a message to go by the church office to pick something up the other day. It was a gift card from the church for a steak dinner for him and his wife in appreciation of his work on the play. "The secretary said she really liked it," he admitted modestly. Coming from him, that's saying a lot!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
To Plant a Seed
To coin a phrase, What is so rare as a day in spring? Nice weather days this spring have been all too few, but today was one of them! "I feel like Laura Ingalls!" I said to my son Greg, as I sat in a lawn chair and watched him till the ground for the family garden.
The sky was a majestic blue dome over the wide, green pasture. The hill hid any view of other farms or human activity, so it felt as if we were the only people on the spacious, sweeping prairie. Other than caring for the chickens, my husband and I were mainly onlookers at this seasonal ritual of putting in the garden.
"This is not monetarily profitable," observed our college grandson Adam as he watched his parents set out onions and lay strips of seeds for carrots and lettuce. These were put into raised bed containers, but he had tilled a long row for a stand of corn.
"That's because it's soul food," I countered, "It's good for the soul." His parents smiled ruefully, but agreeing. The rich, black, fresh-tilled earth was a dark contrast to the deep, bright green of the grass cut through by the tiller. I knew it smelled wonderful, recalling the rich, earthy aroma of the furrows I walked in as a child behind Daddy's horse-drawn plow.
"They'll always remember this," I said of their two little girls on their hands and knees, faces near the dirt, as they plucked grass clumps out of the rows. They worked intermittently, as their attention was frequently diverted by the beckoning swing with its wide board seat that hung from a high branch of an enormous tree a little way off.
Later, I would dawdle there, swinging gently, grasping the thick, rough rope in each hand as my husband srummed on the guitar he had magically produced from the back seat of the car. The deep, soft grass was lush underfoot, not yet worn away by summer feet.
Soon I was tired and wanted to go home, telling my husband I might be getting sick, even thinking I sensed a slight temperature. Sick or not, one thing I know for sure, I had a case of spring fever!
The sky was a majestic blue dome over the wide, green pasture. The hill hid any view of other farms or human activity, so it felt as if we were the only people on the spacious, sweeping prairie. Other than caring for the chickens, my husband and I were mainly onlookers at this seasonal ritual of putting in the garden.
"This is not monetarily profitable," observed our college grandson Adam as he watched his parents set out onions and lay strips of seeds for carrots and lettuce. These were put into raised bed containers, but he had tilled a long row for a stand of corn.
"That's because it's soul food," I countered, "It's good for the soul." His parents smiled ruefully, but agreeing. The rich, black, fresh-tilled earth was a dark contrast to the deep, bright green of the grass cut through by the tiller. I knew it smelled wonderful, recalling the rich, earthy aroma of the furrows I walked in as a child behind Daddy's horse-drawn plow.
"They'll always remember this," I said of their two little girls on their hands and knees, faces near the dirt, as they plucked grass clumps out of the rows. They worked intermittently, as their attention was frequently diverted by the beckoning swing with its wide board seat that hung from a high branch of an enormous tree a little way off.
Later, I would dawdle there, swinging gently, grasping the thick, rough rope in each hand as my husband srummed on the guitar he had magically produced from the back seat of the car. The deep, soft grass was lush underfoot, not yet worn away by summer feet.
Soon I was tired and wanted to go home, telling my husband I might be getting sick, even thinking I sensed a slight temperature. Sick or not, one thing I know for sure, I had a case of spring fever!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
I Taut I Taw a Puddy Tat
I think my husband is a glutton for punishment. He bought three baby guineas last week, and one of them has already left for guinea heaven. In the first place, they were just hatched, so they were extremely small. We were keeping them in a cardboard box under a lamp, but with the cold, wet, weather we have been having, I was worried about their getting chilled.
Then a few days ago, our son, who has been a little skeptical about our poultry projects, calls and tells us he has bought 75 baby chicks! The farm store made him an offer he couldn't refuse--$1 apiece. (Our guineas were $6.99 each.) We saw that Greg had made a cozy place for the chicks from a round, metal stock tank with wood shavings on the floor and a heat light, all inside a farm building.
We thought our two remaining "keets" might like it there better and stay warmer with all that downy fluff around them. And they seem to have adjusted well! Frail and timid at first, they now run energetically with the golden horde, although the two of them stick together.
But horror of horrors! The other evening Greg was checking on them and found the cat behind the shed with a chick in its mouth! Somehow it had breached the pen and got into the round stock tank, which must have seemed like the biggest bird nest it had ever seen! With so many chicks, they are impossible to count, so there is no telling how many chicken dinners the furry feline enjoyed.
The pen has been secured and the flock has been safe the past few nights, so today Howard went to the farm store where they replaced the keet that had died, plus he bought an additional one! (We are making sure to feed the cat plenty of food from the can.) We put the new keets in with the mixed flock, and at first the little strangers were scared and shy, but before we knew it, one of the "old" baby guineas came over and made them welcome! Now the four of them hang together as birds of a feather.
Hopefully, there won't be any more farm casualties! I don't know if my husband was cut out to be a farmer or not, but I'm beginning to think I wasn't cut out to be a farmer's wife!
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
What's it Worth?
"Did you see my good box?" little Maddie said excitedly to her au pair who had just come back from her week-end away, holding it up for her to see. I had suggested Maddie show her birthday presents to her, and she picked up the first thing she saw. Actually, it was a Minnie Mouse-shaped box with the Disney character on it that I had picked up as an afterthought as too cute to pass up, to go with the other gifts I had brought her.
Never mind that Maddie had received mounds of valuable presents, including a bicycle, play kitchen and party gifts, all of which she loved, my box was right up there on her list! At her age, what something costs (50cents on sale), doesn't figure in the joy she gets from it.
My husband and I were talking about "intrinsic value" the other day--the worth of something, monetary value not withstanding. A house may bring a certain price on the real estate market, but the intrinsic value of a home that has sheltered a family and is the depository of memories is incalculable!
Just this morning Howard was saying to me, "You've got to watch this program I just saw! It will make you realize who you are in Christ!" He had arisen early and turned on his favorite television minister and received added insight he couldn't wait to share with me (after he got another forty winks, anyway).
It's true. The Bible says in Matthew 16:26, "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The human body is made up of 54 elements, worth about $160 by some estimates, but the value of the soul, or eternal spirit, is inestimable!
Cost of birthday trip:
New tire for car......................................$100
Gasoline for 500 mile round trip..........$150
Food.......................................................$ 50
Birthday presents..................................$ 20
Time with grandchildren and Maddie's expression...................................Priceless
Some say the value of something is determined by what you are willing to pay for it. Jesus considered us so valuable that He died for us to have the gift of eternal life. He paid it all. All we have to do is receive it, just as our 4-year-old granddaughter received her birthday gifts. Jesus came all the way from heaven to deliver it.
Never mind that Maddie had received mounds of valuable presents, including a bicycle, play kitchen and party gifts, all of which she loved, my box was right up there on her list! At her age, what something costs (50cents on sale), doesn't figure in the joy she gets from it.
My husband and I were talking about "intrinsic value" the other day--the worth of something, monetary value not withstanding. A house may bring a certain price on the real estate market, but the intrinsic value of a home that has sheltered a family and is the depository of memories is incalculable!
Just this morning Howard was saying to me, "You've got to watch this program I just saw! It will make you realize who you are in Christ!" He had arisen early and turned on his favorite television minister and received added insight he couldn't wait to share with me (after he got another forty winks, anyway).
It's true. The Bible says in Matthew 16:26, "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The human body is made up of 54 elements, worth about $160 by some estimates, but the value of the soul, or eternal spirit, is inestimable!
Cost of birthday trip:
New tire for car......................................$100
Gasoline for 500 mile round trip..........$150
Food.......................................................$ 50
Birthday presents..................................$ 20
Time with grandchildren and Maddie's expression...................................Priceless
Some say the value of something is determined by what you are willing to pay for it. Jesus considered us so valuable that He died for us to have the gift of eternal life. He paid it all. All we have to do is receive it, just as our 4-year-old granddaughter received her birthday gifts. Jesus came all the way from heaven to deliver it.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
TOUR DE FORCE
"What?" I groaned when Howard woke me and said we had to be ready at 8:30 in the morning to go to the Port of Houston for a boat tour! He had sat up late talking with our son Jamie on this first night of our visit and mentioned he'd like to do something like that, and it had been arranged! Well, I was sure all would oversleep in the morning, so I wasn't too concerned. How would we get two little ones and ourselves up, dressed and ready to leave by that time?
"We aren't really going on a boat tour this morning, are we?" I asked Jamie as I walked sleepily into the living room when I heard him up. When he said we were, I protested, "But it's so early!" to which he replied, "Well, you're up, aren't you?"
And to my surprise, I was, and feeling refreshed at that. "All I have to do for the girls is put them in the car," my SAHD son said, in his masculine way of parenting. I hurried my routine, saw him run a brush through their hair and we were on our way shortly, getting breakfast at the drive-through of Chick-Fil-A.
I was dreading an industrial-looking, unappealing waterfront, but after nearly an hour of interstate driving, wending our way through commercial and industrial areas, we at last turned off into a parklike setting with brick walkways, blooming trees with birds flitting through them and a brick-paved plaza. Lots of people, including kids on field trips this Spring break, were gathering in front of the tour boat. Turns out we got the last five seats on the vessel with a 50 passenger maximum.
What a pleasant surprise! The weather was Houston-warm-and-gorgeous, and the sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. We'd left the winter back in Oklahoma! The boat itself was very nice, with nautical wood paneled interior, comfortable padded benches and seats all around, and wide glass windows from which we could see the narrow deck and railing around the boat where some were walking or sightseeing. After a brief announcement of rules and safety regulations, all were allowed to go outside and to the front of the boat for a better view.
The great ships were impressive in their massiveness as they sat at the docks awaiting loading or unloading of their cargo! Names of foreign countries were emblazoned on their sides. Names like, ITALY, SWEDEN, ISRAEL, MEXICO, VENZUELA, and our own UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, all with their flags proudly flying. Several splendid gray liners--government ships, our son said, were manned by merchant marines and could be deployed with three days notice to any trouble spot in the world.
Now and then a sturdy little tugboat, rimmed with rubber tires for resilience, would pass us, ready for its work of nudging the big ships into position for docking, debarking or embarking. The word, TUG, was painted at strategic spots on the ships' hulls indicating contact points.
"Look, Anne-Marie," I exclaimed to my six-year-old grandddaughter, "a pelican!" She laughed when I taught her the rhyme, "A funny bird is the pelican, His beak can hold more than his belly can," doggrel by Ogden Nash. Gulls and other seabirds soared overhead, glistening in the spring sunshine.
Our jaunt was several miles long, taking 90 minutes for the round trip. We were informed that it was yet another 50 miles to the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, but we felt like we had been sea borne all morning.
I thought of the Bible verses, "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep," Psalm 107:23, 24.
And again, of the boats that were ever on the alert for a dispatch to anywhere in the world with only a three-day notice. Our angels are dispatched instantly when sent by God if we are in peril, "...sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation," Hebrews 1:14, and in Psalm 91:11, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all they ways." Kind of like the busy tugboats! I was so glad we had taken the cruise!
"We aren't really going on a boat tour this morning, are we?" I asked Jamie as I walked sleepily into the living room when I heard him up. When he said we were, I protested, "But it's so early!" to which he replied, "Well, you're up, aren't you?"
And to my surprise, I was, and feeling refreshed at that. "All I have to do for the girls is put them in the car," my SAHD son said, in his masculine way of parenting. I hurried my routine, saw him run a brush through their hair and we were on our way shortly, getting breakfast at the drive-through of Chick-Fil-A.
I was dreading an industrial-looking, unappealing waterfront, but after nearly an hour of interstate driving, wending our way through commercial and industrial areas, we at last turned off into a parklike setting with brick walkways, blooming trees with birds flitting through them and a brick-paved plaza. Lots of people, including kids on field trips this Spring break, were gathering in front of the tour boat. Turns out we got the last five seats on the vessel with a 50 passenger maximum.
What a pleasant surprise! The weather was Houston-warm-and-gorgeous, and the sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. We'd left the winter back in Oklahoma! The boat itself was very nice, with nautical wood paneled interior, comfortable padded benches and seats all around, and wide glass windows from which we could see the narrow deck and railing around the boat where some were walking or sightseeing. After a brief announcement of rules and safety regulations, all were allowed to go outside and to the front of the boat for a better view.
The great ships were impressive in their massiveness as they sat at the docks awaiting loading or unloading of their cargo! Names of foreign countries were emblazoned on their sides. Names like, ITALY, SWEDEN, ISRAEL, MEXICO, VENZUELA, and our own UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, all with their flags proudly flying. Several splendid gray liners--government ships, our son said, were manned by merchant marines and could be deployed with three days notice to any trouble spot in the world.
Now and then a sturdy little tugboat, rimmed with rubber tires for resilience, would pass us, ready for its work of nudging the big ships into position for docking, debarking or embarking. The word, TUG, was painted at strategic spots on the ships' hulls indicating contact points.
"Look, Anne-Marie," I exclaimed to my six-year-old grandddaughter, "a pelican!" She laughed when I taught her the rhyme, "A funny bird is the pelican, His beak can hold more than his belly can," doggrel by Ogden Nash. Gulls and other seabirds soared overhead, glistening in the spring sunshine.
Our jaunt was several miles long, taking 90 minutes for the round trip. We were informed that it was yet another 50 miles to the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, but we felt like we had been sea borne all morning.
I thought of the Bible verses, "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep," Psalm 107:23, 24.
And again, of the boats that were ever on the alert for a dispatch to anywhere in the world with only a three-day notice. Our angels are dispatched instantly when sent by God if we are in peril, "...sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation," Hebrews 1:14, and in Psalm 91:11, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all they ways." Kind of like the busy tugboats! I was so glad we had taken the cruise!
Monday, April 1, 2013
Happy Easter
"Do you want a trophy?" my granddaughter, Allison, asked me in an aside as she tallied the winners of her Easter egg hunt event. "Did I win one?" I asked, and she nodded. I guess she was checking the level of my participation enthusiasm. This grown-up granddaughter could have a career as an event planner, I thought. She had thrown this extravaganza for young and old alike on the family farm property.
It had been a perfect Easter Sunday (Resurrection Day, I like to call it) with a packed-out congregation stuffed into our little church that morning, what with visiting families of the members and those who somehow manage to make it to church at Easter (or Christmas) if at no other time, and a moving message by our recently bereaved pastor. Hearts were touched when he mentioned his late wife and our dear friend from time to time, as he is understandably apt to do these days.
We were out in plenty of time for me to pick up the food I had made to take to our son's house to add to their family feast. Why can menus and food prep be so fraught with doubt and vacillation for me? I had planned to get a turkey breast to supplement my daughter-in-law's ham dinner, then reconsidered and made a hen with dumplings. I had stewed and de-boned the chicken the night before, planning to add the dumplings in the morning and take them to her house in a crockpot set on warm until lunch time.
Panic set in when the crockpot was not where it was supposed to be. No amount of searching revealed it, but it was probably stored in the basement from our move last summer! I had undercooked the dumplings a little to finish in the crockpot, and now it was time for church with my plans foiled. They went into the fridge to be rewarmed on site, and thankfully, they were just right!
After adding cubed fresh pineapple to cottage cheese, I looked online and found you were only supposed to use cooked or canned pineapple for that! My strawberries I had cut up and sugared to set overnight looked soggy and pale! And the shortcakes I had baked tasted disappointedly like biscuits. Oh well, maybe it was just my dulled sense of taste that didn't let me relish the meal, but I did relish the fellowship!
The picture-perfect event in the country followed. Children were scattered like bright little blooms on the deep green, new grass slope where Allison had set up a kids' egg hunt. Doting parents hovered over the smaller tots and their baskets, enjoying it as much as the kids. This was a farm outing for them, made perfect by viewing the small horde of new chicks in the shed and peering at the eggs in the nests of our white leghorns.
Then while the kids went on a hayride conducted by our son, the adults were ushered down the hill for the "Extreme Egg Hunt." My husband and I tagged along, then I got into the spirit of the game when I spotted a bright egg at the base of a gnarled old tree. Most of the young adults had swarmed to the other side of the hill, so I garnered a basket of eggs in no time as one led to another. Thus my trophy for fourth place!
The day culminated as we watched the final episode of The Bible mini-series later that night. Though I couldn't watch the crucifixion part, the portrayal of Paul and the other apostles was riveting. I was moved to tears at the realization of their steadfastness and zeal in spreading the gospel, despite horrible persecution and martyrs' deaths. The faithful presence of Jesus was apparent several times in cinematic depiction, stretching the imagination to comprehend the reality of what actually happened.
Paul's concluding declaration as recorded in II Timothy 4:7 is, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: (8) Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." The best trophy of all!
It had been a perfect Easter Sunday (Resurrection Day, I like to call it) with a packed-out congregation stuffed into our little church that morning, what with visiting families of the members and those who somehow manage to make it to church at Easter (or Christmas) if at no other time, and a moving message by our recently bereaved pastor. Hearts were touched when he mentioned his late wife and our dear friend from time to time, as he is understandably apt to do these days.
We were out in plenty of time for me to pick up the food I had made to take to our son's house to add to their family feast. Why can menus and food prep be so fraught with doubt and vacillation for me? I had planned to get a turkey breast to supplement my daughter-in-law's ham dinner, then reconsidered and made a hen with dumplings. I had stewed and de-boned the chicken the night before, planning to add the dumplings in the morning and take them to her house in a crockpot set on warm until lunch time.
Panic set in when the crockpot was not where it was supposed to be. No amount of searching revealed it, but it was probably stored in the basement from our move last summer! I had undercooked the dumplings a little to finish in the crockpot, and now it was time for church with my plans foiled. They went into the fridge to be rewarmed on site, and thankfully, they were just right!
After adding cubed fresh pineapple to cottage cheese, I looked online and found you were only supposed to use cooked or canned pineapple for that! My strawberries I had cut up and sugared to set overnight looked soggy and pale! And the shortcakes I had baked tasted disappointedly like biscuits. Oh well, maybe it was just my dulled sense of taste that didn't let me relish the meal, but I did relish the fellowship!
The picture-perfect event in the country followed. Children were scattered like bright little blooms on the deep green, new grass slope where Allison had set up a kids' egg hunt. Doting parents hovered over the smaller tots and their baskets, enjoying it as much as the kids. This was a farm outing for them, made perfect by viewing the small horde of new chicks in the shed and peering at the eggs in the nests of our white leghorns.
Then while the kids went on a hayride conducted by our son, the adults were ushered down the hill for the "Extreme Egg Hunt." My husband and I tagged along, then I got into the spirit of the game when I spotted a bright egg at the base of a gnarled old tree. Most of the young adults had swarmed to the other side of the hill, so I garnered a basket of eggs in no time as one led to another. Thus my trophy for fourth place!
The day culminated as we watched the final episode of The Bible mini-series later that night. Though I couldn't watch the crucifixion part, the portrayal of Paul and the other apostles was riveting. I was moved to tears at the realization of their steadfastness and zeal in spreading the gospel, despite horrible persecution and martyrs' deaths. The faithful presence of Jesus was apparent several times in cinematic depiction, stretching the imagination to comprehend the reality of what actually happened.
Paul's concluding declaration as recorded in II Timothy 4:7 is, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: (8) Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." The best trophy of all!
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