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Showing posts with label miracles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miracles. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Somebody—Or Rather, Some Puppy—Got a Yom Kippur Miracle

One of life's ironies—or rather, paradoxes—that tempts "Momma" to be envious: soon-to-be-two-months-and-seven-years-old Reilly received a Yom Kippur miracle—which tempted "Momma", whom succumbed to the temptation, to call Reilly a "lucky little bastard". All the meanwhile, "Momma" has to limit her fasting (if she'll really fast at all; and even though she's a Jewish Christian, she'd—or at least she'd try to—fast if there was no issue with fasting) due to Wellbutrin (and Momma's never been a shomeret tzomim tovah, anyway). She also remembers that she has to find simcha in the fact that the not-at-all-obligated-to-fast Reilly and Reilly's wanting-to-get-the-sofa-moved-in "Mom-Mom" got their miracle—and "Mom-Mom" doesn't even try to fast for any reason, even for remembering that fasting happens because the Bridegroom is taken away for the time being).

The Bridegroom must really love Reilly and Reilly's "Mom-Mom"—whether He loves Reilly's "Momma", or at loves her as much as He loves Reilly and "Mom-Mom", is quite often another question—after all, Reilly gets back her window-watching spot and a sofa on which to do what puppies do on sofas (including using the sofas as ramps to window-watching spots); "Mom-Mom" gets the sofa moved into the family room by the guys whom came to measure something for her the day before (and they didn't have to move the sofa into the family room), and "Momma" gets loneliness, conflicted feelings over fasting, and other bad things—such as the incumbent-on-"Momma" obligation to explain to the guys that Reilly is a gregarious puppy whom likes to act tough as she barks like a klipeh.

Somewhat Offbeat: "Momma" Told You That Reilly's Not Well Behaved Enough To Be A Service Dog

Since an service dog would be required to be well behaved and younger than two years old, Reilly lacks the behaving nature and youth that a service dog must have. Even again using a pair of "Momma"'s underwear (yes; underwear!) as a tug-of-war and chewing today—notwithstanding that it was clean—and trying to eat a desiccant bead—albe that it was harmless, and she dropped it when she was told to drop it—automatically disqualifies Reilly from being even close to trainable for service-dog work.

If only Reilly had a more-able-to-be-authorative-than-"Momma" "Daddy", meanwhile! As "Momma" has stated, may God count loneliness for over three years—not to mention almost eight years after her first abysmal relationship ended—as enough of a fast and provide a Yom Kippur miracle to break "Momma"'s fast of lonelinessnot to mention that Reilly turns two years and seven old in two weeks in terms of both Gregorian reckoning and Hebrew reckoning, since she was actually born on Second Adar 23 or 24, 5773! Besides, getting blamed for Reilly's disobedience when she was specifically told to go inside after eating "nasties" is not fun—after all, "Momma" had no chair to use as a porch railing and could not hold the leashes of Reilly and Camille—and even "Mom-Mom", whom was home yesterday due to Columbus Day, had a hard time getting going-back-into-the-backyard Reilly to come inside the house.

Incidentally, "Momma" remains jobless and unable to provide for Reilly as much as she'd like to provide for Reilly on her part—and despite that she uses LinkedIn appropriately—and she will be pleased with Reilly if Reilly's gifts of writing fodder to "Momma" lands or helps land "Momma" a job. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

The Raisin Incident

My little miracle survived her Raisin Incident. Long story short, Auntie Michelle left granola with raisins on the floor. Reilly got one raisin and parts of one, which the vet pumped from her stomach. Her bloodwork came back "Perfect" as well, and she behaved well at observation. She ultimately pulled through only because Yehovah heard and listened to many call on His Name, praised be Yehovah—even if, God forbid, the results had turned out terribly. I dreaded the worst of the worst because of how toxic even a part of a raisin is to most dogs. Even if the results had been the worst, "Yehovah gives and Yehovah takes away—may the Name of Yehovah be praised"—and even, beyond our comprehension, the worst results would have been for the best, as Yehovah creates both light and darkness, and peace and chaos.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

At This Point...

I'm just getting resigned. That I don't want a job is not the case. That I want to stay home like this all day, etc. is not the case. That I went to college to get a degree for nothing is hopefully not the case. But what do I do?

I already acknowledged that I'm nobody special. Even though my mom suggested that volunteering for Maryland State Senator Kittleman's campaign might get me noticed, so what? Other people volunteer for campaigns and get noticed, get interviewed and told to send their resumes in, etc.. Other people are also, as I am, on Blogger, LinkedIn, etc.. Speaking of resumes, by the way, I either have to rewrite my resume (which is scant) or owe my (now-former) Facebook friend a handwoven tallit which I promised him for writing up my resume for me (He used the information which I gave him from LinkedIn.).

I'm going to need a miracle, which I already knew and hoped that I wouldn't need as much if I got the ITB pump, etc. (which I did). For some reason, those ranging from Kate Upton (a model) to Gabby and Anna Hoffman (political activists and commentators) don't even have to try (or at least in the traditional ways), and they get all the luck (or the blessing). Kate Upton, for example, was picked up just after doing the Dougie Dance on a YouTube video. Gabby and Anna were both noted for their political activism and commentary on Twitter.

Even the self-important Toby Keith had a miracle story: after promising God that he would quit trying to become a country singer by the time that he was 30, he got in to the country-music industry at 32 (and broke his promise) by handing a sample tape to a flight-crew member who eventually gave the tape to Harold Shedd (and somehow, God let him get in. Maybe God's given Toby over to sin and its consequences, though: how well's he doing now? Not as well as he once was.).

Again, that I want to be resigned is not the case. I keep holding out for a miracle. Maybe, although I'd like to believe that verses such as Matthew 21:22 and James 4:3 could apply to me (and I've asked), I'm just (or maybe I should just be) giving up hope. If life continues this way, I'm just going to find that dream-zapper strip, photograph or scan it myself, and post it as my background on my desktop or something else (e.g., as a conclusion to) a blog entry.

Of course, I could ask for prayer; but who's going to pray for me at this point? Maybe some will. Also, I feel guilty about even posting and sharing this because what if I should have left it private or buried unless I jinxed my chances at a miracle? Here posting this blog entry and seeing what happens (and praying and figuring what else I have to do—to get God's favor, maybe even a miracle somehow) goes.

 (And what do I have to do? Read the Bible more or more of the Bible as much as possible? Pray more? Fast?)

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Is This The Miracle That I Prayed For?

Let's see: whether intentionally or not; whether or not meant to be tagged as Esther, I'm tagged as Haman in a photo. I get an e-mail from a Jehovah's Witness from the Jews for Jesus forums asking me to delete her name from a post which is archived (Thus, I can't remove her name.), I get spam from one person on Twitter, and two other people get hacked and send me spam on Twitter; and I could go on. Am I just getting a rub in the face again, or could I be like Esther?

: If the big miracle that I prayed for is persecution & nothing else good with few exceptions right now, that's what I'm getting.
 ·  · 

Maybe I'm Anticipating That Big Miracle I Asked Everyone To Pray About...

Whatever is going on, though, I can't sleep. I was tired but I couldn't sleep. I was going to have breakfast with my sister at the UMBC dining hall, but my Facebook status now reads, "[I] can't sleep. By the way, Michelle, forget breakfast in the morning." My status before read "Pray for a miracle for me; in particular, one that opens doors for me & lets me tell the world "How do you like me now?!" Laila tov."

Should I just ask "Who cares [about me]?!", by the way?

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

So Far, What Seemed Like a Miracle Is a Shattered Dream....

I'm not going to get into what the miracle is, especially if it turns out to be a shattered dream; since (even though I'm a Jewish Christian) I don't want to (for a lack of a better term) jinx any chances of my so-far-shattered dream being what I had thought (or hoped) that it was going to be. To make a long story short; I don't presently have all that I need to fulfill the dream, and I could possibly be being presented with a possibly-false-choice scenario wherein fulfilling my dream and going to college for at least this semester is regarded.

I'm not asking for money. I'm asking for prayer, prayer that (as the Bible says) G-d will provide; though I am much less than many who have been provided for and are being (and/or will be) provided for. I'm not Avraham or Moshe, or so many others who have been provided for. I'm not the starving child in Africa or the sexual-abuse victim (who, in many cases, is-- in a sense-- luckier than I am because he or she suffers so much more here, and gets more sympathy from both Heaven and Earth-- and more reward in Heaven because of his or her suffering. As I've blogged about before, I can't even get sympathy or empathy for what little I've been through in comparison-- in fact, I usually get the opposite. That is, I get the opposite of sympathy and empathy.).

As I said, I'm asking for just prayer, prayer that (as the Bible says) G-d will provide; though I am much less than everyone from Avraham and Moshe, to the starving child in Africa and the sexual-abuse victim. Besides, the fulfillment of my dream may help that I am exalted above those who have abused and hated me, and who even abuse (including ignore) and hate me still.