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I absolutely loved that post, @steve, and it made me laugh despite the mood I'm in. I was hoping when I'm came here I'd find some subsequent posts to create a buffer zone, but instead I'm just going to apologize to you for the abrupt change of tone between that brilliant logic and what I'm about to post. I just don't know where else to put this:
It's now the wee hours in the early morning of what will become Monday, September 13. The weekend, for me, has been intense. Besides, 9/11 remembrances Saturday, I also attended the memorial service of a woman who, the last time I saw her, was functioning as my angel in the back of an ambulance on the way from my old home of Grapevine TX to John Peter Smith Hospital on December 19, 1972, in the wake of my falling out of a vehicle at 55mph onto the concrete shoulder of then TX121, also known as Grapevine Highway at one end and Belknap Street on the other -- and I learned that no one she knew at all was aware she had died until 7 days after her death in January, as well as that none of her friends or family members were made aware of her passing until 6 more months had passed, despite the fact that she had been living in the next county. I also learned that the reason for estrangement from family was that, 3 years after hopping into the back of the ambulance to comfort me on the way to getting 6 hours of surgery and 1100 stitches, mostly to sew my scalp back onto my skull, Amanda had her own brush with death, flipping her prized Cadillac convertible 7 times in Taos NM, killing her best friend in the process.
She and I were never the closest of friends. I looked up to her, and she was both beautiful and impressive, but I was always intimidated by Amanda. She was one of my best friend's sister, though, so there was no escaping her in Grapevine, which back then was just a small ranch town, until she left for a tennis scholarship at TCU. Her presence at the scene of my mishap was pure coincidence, on two levels. Her brother was driving the vehicle I departed for the concrete, and she just happened to be driving -- in her convertible -- 4 cars behind. I truly may not have made it had she not been there, and she even endured the fact that the ambulance rear-ended a lane-shifting Toyota Corolla as we approached the big intersection at Loop 820, which put me in a 16-hour full-consciousness coma. This young woman who had never hardly given me the time of day was there on the most monumental day of my life.
There was no necessity for me to reach out to her afterward. She was back at school, and I was back in college in Pennsylvania. Honestly, I didn't even start realizing that I'd never properly thanked her (I couldn't at the time, because the coma meant that, during the second half of the ride into Fort Worth, I couldn't speak, and she didn't know I could see and hear her) until I was a young adult. I didn't live in this area again until last year, but I came to visit fairly often, especially in the early 80's when I lived in Nacogdoches. I asked her sister once in 1993 how to find her and was brusquely told that Amanda was now a pain in the ass she didn't want to have to deal with, hinting that she was mentally ill, so I put it away in a cubbyhole in my mind, until moving here last December. I asked my best friend (he was in the front seat of that vehicle I fell out of) if he knew where Amanda was these days, and he repeated what I'd already heard from many: grandparents and parents dead, and she'd alienated both of her siblings.
I thought I had more time.
I'm unconvinced that she was mentally ill as such. Maybe some consequences of a closed head injury, but that's not the same. Her brother, my old friend, explained at the gathering Saturday that what it all came down to was that Amanda could never forgive herself for her friend's death. She punished herself by abandoning most of her dreams, including forsaking ever marrying or having her own family. She pushed people away even as she held onto her faith. Her minister, who was responsible for her being found a week after her passing, testified that he's confident her faith was only increasing during her last years. I suspect, though, that she wanted to die alone.
So I spoke at her memorial. I won't let myself follow the same path that Amanda took, but for the time being I haven't fully forgiven myself for failing to square that circle: I was remiss. Sure, I didn't know that she had even had the accident in New Mexico, and I never pressed hard enough on her sister or anyone else to find out where or why she had gone south, so I didn't know what was torturing her. But that doesn't change one fact: for whatever reason, Amanda insisted on making a very uncomfortable ambulance ride with me, a ride probably no one besides her thought was going to get me to JPS alive, but when something similar happened to her I wasn't there for her. What's more relevant is that I might have been one of the only people in her life who could have given her solace, because I very well may have been able to help her release that guilt she apparently wore like an anchor around her neck the rest of her life -- because I probably could have made a convincing case that, sometimes, our Creator gives us opportunities to pay for our mistakes in advance.
This is going to haunt me.
She and I were never the closest of friends. I looked up to her, and she was both beautiful and impressive, but I was always intimidated by Amanda. She was one of my best friend's sister, though, so there was no escaping her in Grapevine, which back then was just a small ranch town, until she left for a tennis scholarship at TCU. Her presence at the scene of my mishap was pure coincidence, on two levels. Her brother was driving the vehicle I departed for the concrete, and she just happened to be driving -- in her convertible -- 4 cars behind. I truly may not have made it had she not been there, and she even endured the fact that the ambulance rear-ended a lane-shifting Toyota Corolla as we approached the big intersection at Loop 820, which put me in a 16-hour full-consciousness coma. This young woman who had never hardly given me the time of day was there on the most monumental day of my life.
There was no necessity for me to reach out to her afterward. She was back at school, and I was back in college in Pennsylvania. Honestly, I didn't even start realizing that I'd never properly thanked her (I couldn't at the time, because the coma meant that, during the second half of the ride into Fort Worth, I couldn't speak, and she didn't know I could see and hear her) until I was a young adult. I didn't live in this area again until last year, but I came to visit fairly often, especially in the early 80's when I lived in Nacogdoches. I asked her sister once in 1993 how to find her and was brusquely told that Amanda was now a pain in the ass she didn't want to have to deal with, hinting that she was mentally ill, so I put it away in a cubbyhole in my mind, until moving here last December. I asked my best friend (he was in the front seat of that vehicle I fell out of) if he knew where Amanda was these days, and he repeated what I'd already heard from many: grandparents and parents dead, and she'd alienated both of her siblings.
I thought I had more time.
I'm unconvinced that she was mentally ill as such. Maybe some consequences of a closed head injury, but that's not the same. Her brother, my old friend, explained at the gathering Saturday that what it all came down to was that Amanda could never forgive herself for her friend's death. She punished herself by abandoning most of her dreams, including forsaking ever marrying or having her own family. She pushed people away even as she held onto her faith. Her minister, who was responsible for her being found a week after her passing, testified that he's confident her faith was only increasing during her last years. I suspect, though, that she wanted to die alone.
So I spoke at her memorial. I won't let myself follow the same path that Amanda took, but for the time being I haven't fully forgiven myself for failing to square that circle: I was remiss. Sure, I didn't know that she had even had the accident in New Mexico, and I never pressed hard enough on her sister or anyone else to find out where or why she had gone south, so I didn't know what was torturing her. But that doesn't change one fact: for whatever reason, Amanda insisted on making a very uncomfortable ambulance ride with me, a ride probably no one besides her thought was going to get me to JPS alive, but when something similar happened to her I wasn't there for her. What's more relevant is that I might have been one of the only people in her life who could have given her solace, because I very well may have been able to help her release that guilt she apparently wore like an anchor around her neck the rest of her life -- because I probably could have made a convincing case that, sometimes, our Creator gives us opportunities to pay for our mistakes in advance.
This is going to haunt me.
My favorite uncle Larry (because I only have one uncle Larry) died unexpectedly on Sat at the young age of 67. He ran on what we all called "Johnston standard time" being horid at assessing how long one of his wonderful canyoneering treks would take, ("Be back in about 4 hours" and it was an additional 8, worrying his sis who's girls didn't take lunch) and usually he was substantially late for EVERYTHING....yet oh the irony.....he got an early ticket to the next world.
He was a living testimony of faith and anyone could tell by the love and service for others that was simply his way of life that Larry kept the new commandment.
He was a faithful and loving husband and enjoyed 46 years with the wife of his youth. They had four children living and one that they lost in her first year. Three gave them grandchildren and their oldest grandson married this past year.
He was a good boy scout, a great scoutmaster. He ran down purse snatchers on foot and followed a hit and run driver once so he could be held accountable. He volunteered with search and rescue and his determination saved more then one life....at least three that I can recall. He was a doctor of chiropractic and helped educate many in how to better care for themselves. He was kind and selfless. A three times iron man finisher, I believe he made the mistake of eating ketogenic and fasting when he was already lean and caused a metabolic imbalance. I am guessing he mistook the "survival mode" his body was in for energy. He went on a training with his S and R team and was feeling light headed. An emt and paramedic present took his vitals, and they were so bad they immediately began rushing him to the hospital. He lost consciousness....they did CPR.....they got him to the hospital before he flatlined. So he died in his sleep...in the daytime. I know God knows what is best, but my heart hurts for those closest to him. He filled big shoes, and touched so many. His son says "Heaven gained a giant" .....but we are sure going to miss him. He ran his race well! I am happy for him. He graduated. I smile even as I cry. I am thankful he was and is my uncle.
Sir Bumbleberry woulda liked him too. *nods*
He was a living testimony of faith and anyone could tell by the love and service for others that was simply his way of life that Larry kept the new commandment.
He was a faithful and loving husband and enjoyed 46 years with the wife of his youth. They had four children living and one that they lost in her first year. Three gave them grandchildren and their oldest grandson married this past year.
He was a good boy scout, a great scoutmaster. He ran down purse snatchers on foot and followed a hit and run driver once so he could be held accountable. He volunteered with search and rescue and his determination saved more then one life....at least three that I can recall. He was a doctor of chiropractic and helped educate many in how to better care for themselves. He was kind and selfless. A three times iron man finisher, I believe he made the mistake of eating ketogenic and fasting when he was already lean and caused a metabolic imbalance. I am guessing he mistook the "survival mode" his body was in for energy. He went on a training with his S and R team and was feeling light headed. An emt and paramedic present took his vitals, and they were so bad they immediately began rushing him to the hospital. He lost consciousness....they did CPR.....they got him to the hospital before he flatlined. So he died in his sleep...in the daytime. I know God knows what is best, but my heart hurts for those closest to him. He filled big shoes, and touched so many. His son says "Heaven gained a giant" .....but we are sure going to miss him. He ran his race well! I am happy for him. He graduated. I smile even as I cry. I am thankful he was and is my uncle.
Sir Bumbleberry woulda liked him too. *nods*
@Keith Martin you know that when God tells us He will wipe away our tears.....well, that means there will be some. Hold fast to the good stuff and lay the rest down. The one that knows the end from the beginning, paid the complete price for sins. Peace is in trusting that.
To him who knoweth to do good and doeth it not....it is sin. Doesn't sound like you knew.
To him who knoweth to do good and doeth it not....it is sin. Doesn't sound like you knew.
Thank you, @Joleneakamama. That helped me in numerous ways. I've been keto-ing for 2 weeks, have lost 10 pounds and had just indulged myself in eating a second meal for only the 2nd time in that time period before reading your testimonial. One does feel lighter than air once that fat-burning stuff kicks in, but it's also important to remember that some of you has shut down, so going above and beyond can really be a mistake. For some of us, taking it easy is against the grain. I bet I would have loved your Uncle Larry.
Thank you for that, as well. However, I don't think this one is as simple as that, and I'm relatively confident that my instincts about it are on the mark, given the dream I had last night. I've already recounted the whole thing to a mutual friend who was there, and I won't belabor it here but instead provide a short synopsis (you may all laugh now, knowing that, time permitting, I would normally be itching to recall every last detail, but I promise that what follows really is an abridged version):
I awoke in what most people would call mid-morning but had been up until 4am, so I positioned myself to go back to sleep. Soon, thinking I was still awake, I began dreaming that I was awake and my bed was surrounded by a field of my favorite wildflowers -- but throughout all this I was certain I was awake. For those who have seen The Shack, that became the general structure of the dream, but instead of Octavia Spencer or Graham Greene, Papa was played by our own @rejoicinghandmaid, Bea Edwards, who, again, keeping this short, unrelentingly asserted that I was feeling sorry for myself, eventually relenting just enough to explain that my self-pity was for having failed to experience the opportunity to use the core talent with which He had endowed me for the purpose of relieving Amanda of her near-lifetime of angst. A selfish motivation. Bea/He then went on to assert that my task now was to take that talent and apply it to myself instead, because I needed to forgive myself not only for failing to minister to Amanda but for just as surely failing to provide myself with the experience it would have been for me to have used that talent in a way with her that would have perhaps been exactly why it was given to me -- mentioning that maybe only how I used it with my 3rd wife had the potential to exceed how much of a difference it would have made with Amanda, to whom I owed far, far more.
When I then woke back up, finally realizing I wasn't in some kind of Shack sequel, I indulged myself in 45 minutes of lying-in-bed reverie, and by the end of that the dream was seared into my memory. Much of that time was spent embracing the circumstances and emotions surrounding all this, which I'm confident will at least change the flavor of the haunting. I'm also comforted by certainty that, in the end, Amanda and I will encounter each other again in Heaven, both free from pains, frustrations, guilt, etc., and we will hug, both of us understanding that, not only did she pay her debt in advance, but neither of us had ever needed to plague ourselves with guilt.
I will, though, right now put a little different spin on your take about how he "who knoweth to do good and doeth it not....it is sin:" it would be easy for me to say, yes, I hadn't thought of it that way: I didn't know -- and, believe me, my mind has already several times played that trick on me; I've even heard the words coming out of my mouth and onto the page: "In a way, all I failed to do given that I didn't know she had gone through what she'd gone through was fail to deliver the equivalent of a thank-you card." But that lacks full integrity. All along, my intuition was tugging at me that contacting Amanda was something I was compelled to do, and I simply but consistently let myself off the hook. And it isn't as if I couldn't have demonstrated a greater motivation to reach out to her, to find her and tell her in person in a much better than a thank-you card kind of way just how grateful I was to her. Had I done that, it is not within the scope of good excuses that I would have failed to discover Amanda's history, because that sort of thing simply never escapes me. I always find out everything, either because I sense it or because people just tend to spill their guts to me.
Therefore, for integrity's sake, I have to fine-tune the admonition a bit to, "For he who should have known to do what God blessed him to do and didn't bother to even put up his radar for someone who so thoroughly blessed him, well, that is sin." I believe that, and there's no reason why I shouldn't. Yeshua and His Father forgave me for that as well a couple thousand years before I was born, but it doesn't stop it from being sin. And I'm not at all saying that it's a matter of tit-for-tat -- you know, she saved me so I have to save her -- but a woman I considered an angel suffered needlessly for decades because I didn't consider her important enough to move past my inertia. It really isn't sufficient excuse that I was unconscious about it.
I will take Bea/He's advice; I'll forgive myself. But I'm also not going to be in a rush about it.
Thanks, Ginger. The Golden Rule is always relevant.
a large mouse comes indoors,
helps itself to a bag of decon?,
dies inside a wall.
How long does it stink?
please don't tell me to google,
i need facts here
About right, except for another potential factor: if something else eats the mouse, it will follow along in its wake.
It also depends on heat. On a really hot day it will stink terribly, but will only hang around for a few days. Cold weather means it could take a week to 10 days to stop smelling.Depends on how humid your house is. If your home is very dry then the mouse will desiccate in a week or so. The more humidity the longer the stink will last.
Now ask why I know this.
Ask me how I know this too, lol.
Just be happy they're not rats or squirrels.
Subject change: of general interest related to polygamy practiced elsewhere that is moving in our direction . . .
https://www.unz.com/audio/jtaylor_polygamous-refugees-coming-your-way/
First five or six minutes, and then they go on to other topics . . .
https://www.unz.com/audio/jtaylor_polygamous-refugees-coming-your-way/
First five or six minutes, and then they go on to other topics . . .
If you’re smelling it then it probably wasn’t a mouse. They’re too small to cause much smell. This is most likely a rat. You’ll smell it close to two weeks although after the first several days it will be greatly reduced. The bigger problem is that other rats will follow it’s trail to the house. You need to find the access point and close it. If it was in the kitchen then it almost certainly got in through the the plumbing penetrations by way of the crawl space or the gas line if you have one.a large mouse comes indoors,
helps itself to a bag of decon?,
dies inside a wall.
How long does it stink?
please don't tell me to google,
i need facts here