A 1988 movie, Judgement Day, imagined two travelers who come upon a town visited by Satan once every year to claim souls. It got a two and a half star rating. Then there was a 1993 movie by the same name about a guy who killed his family to hide his personal failures and wasn’t arrested until decades later due to his apparently very effective ability to hide. Three and a half stars. The 1999 movie entitled – you guessed it – Judgement Day tells the story of the earth in danger of being struck by interstellar debris, a scientist who figures out how to stop it, a religious cult who wants to stop him, and a murderer who joins an FBI agent to free the scientist and prevent millions of deaths. Back down to two and a half stars.

Besides the happy assurance that I’m not the only one who’s not that great with titles, it appears that Hollywood hasn’t had much luck with judgement day. Oh the irony.

And here we are: here being recovering from devastating natural disasters, mass killings, exposes of major news sources, ongoing revelations of deception, and a waterfall of sexual deviance. Strike that. Sexual deviance doesn’t seem to get much negative press. Make that sexual assault, abuse, harassment, and plenty of plain ol’ boorish behavior. And let’s not forget a few souls who make false allegations, usually for money. Weaponizing whatever sin is trending detracts from very real heartache and damage of the real until it loses some of its repulsiveness.* 

Just when we think we’re on our way to recovery – boom! – here comes another wave. For instance, I wrote a few words of this post a week ago, never dreaming there would be so much more to address by this date. I’m not even going to use names now because the names just keep coming. It’s like the Halloween Blizzard of ’91. By the time we get to the Judgement Seat of God, even the most nosy neighbor will hope upon hope for a mute button.

Often we think of the judgement of God Almighty as something to avoid. Thinking of His hand moving or removing to bring/allow horrific consequence isn’t something that allows for peaceful sleep or peaceful thought or peaceful anything.

But the judgement with which this world is currently overwhelmed is a good thing, I think. Of course no one wants their sins – large or small or anywhere in between – being spread all over Twitter, but it gives us all another chance to say what is wrong and what is right. It helps us remember that being politically correct is pretty crooked compared to God’s plumb line. Even in the church. Even in Academia. Even in Media. Even in Hollywood. Even in Congress. Even in politics. Even in our own lives.

We don’t often think of judgement and goodness being related, but they are. We’re not supposed to stay stuck at judgement. It’s a step – a very hard, ugly crumbling step – but a step nevertheless. And if a person can scale the riser of pride, they can reach the next step. The next beautiful, shining, solid step is repentance. Such a good thing. A freeing thing. I love repentance. If we’re willing, judgement can bring us there.* It’s like a reset on the remote. Ready . . . click.

* It is at this point I must say something that should go without saying, but must be said because righteousness is only en vogue at certain times and situations for some folks. Sexual abuse isn’t right. Nor is rape, incest, sex outside of marriage, perversion or any other misuse of something that could have been beautiful, but has been distorted. When someone pretends to be a victim, they might hurt their target, but they surely hurt true victims as a result of diminishing returns.

*Hurry now! One of these days that step will no longer be available.

Image: pexels-photo-534204.jpeg

You know how when some little speck that was floating around or, perhaps, the result of some rogue particle from something your were doing gets in your eye, it’s either irritating or killing? It suddenly takes all of your attention whether or not you have time for it. Despite the pain and distraction, all of your attention is sometimes a necessary thing, possibly even a very good thing.

As we celebrate freedom this 4th of July, there will be picnics and flags, parades and fireworks. We can celebrate because others sacrificed. Through the heroic efforts of our American forefathers, our country liberated itself from the rule of King George III and founded a nation with representation of its citizenry in government. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor. I wonder if anyone’s hand was shaking when he signed that declaration? Those men, those women, those families, paid a steep price; a cost we would do well to consider.

They stood firm for what was right and true. Truth? Now there’s something that seems a bit slippery these days. The second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence states, We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. -That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. Note those rights don’t come from government, they come from God. Government simply administers them. (So, as an aside here, things justly termed “entitlements” such as health care or even education are helpful and good to have, but to call them “rights” denigrates the true meaning of the word.)

Our nation has been on a journey for awhile now, traveling a twisting road of right and wrong, true and false. Words like justice, fair, right, tolerance, and even love have undergone a turn in the spin cycle. They’ve become twisted, ragged, and unrecognizable.

And, my fellow citizens, this nation under God finds itself at a well-worn place. We’re on the threshing floor where the grain is separated from the husks and chaff, truth from lies, if you will. Winnowing forks are tossing the mixture into the air where the chaff is blown away leaving only what is usable and good. I hope we get a little bit of something in our eye, even if it causes distraction or pain, and I hope that chaff in our eye draws our attention to the truth. I hope you and I are left on the floor rather than being swept away by the wind.

In 1861, Julia Ward Howe, after visiting a camp of the Union Army, wrote a poem. It was published in 1862. The Battle Hymn of the Republic says, in part: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored and He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat.

This Independence Day I’ll eat barbecue, display the Stars and Stripes, and celebrate along with everyone else. But I’ll also be thinking: It’s great here on the threshing floor! Look! There goes another long-held assumption into the wind! Why, yes. I do see how some were blinded by this person or by that assertion; but things are clearing up now. The chaff won’t be here forever.

Stand firm for what is right and true. You’re in good company. And look up. You never know what you’ll see next.

Declaration of Independence; Luke 3:17, Hosea 13:3; The Battle Hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe, public domain; Image: Wikimedia commons; public domain 800px-Era_agrícola-(threshing_floor)

Images of Melania Trump have traipsed through my mind lately, along with the wish I could call her, like the besties we are, and chat for awhile. I need some fashion advice, and I doubt I’m the only one.

I’m just a mother of the engaged, but soon I will be a mother of the bride, and I have been looking for a dress. I thought I’d pass along my own (very) little advice – not to brides nor grooms, not about ceremonies nor decorations; no, nothing nearly as important or interesting; but about shopping for a mother of the bride dress.

You don’t think you need advice? Listen, I’ve discovered an entirely here-to-fore invisible population of desperate mothers of the bride/groom out there; and – to the woman – they’re willing to share their opinions, asked or not. These women who, aside from contracting a helpfully violent case of dysentery and losing 15 pounds in a week, are simply hoping to find something that will make them look like they haven’t given birth x number of times and still have the metabolism of an 18 year old. Or 30 year old. Or 40 year old.

“That looks good,” said a helpful voice where I was trying on a few dresses last week.

“I liked the last one better,” said another.

I swiveled my head. “Which last one?”

“The navy.”

Oh yes, they’re out there. One mother explained the wedding of her son was going to be casual.

“I’ve waited all these years and – casual. What am I supposed to wear?”

I shook my head sympathetically.

I was flipping through a rack at another store and looked up to someone inquiring, “Mother of the bride?”

I nodded. “I’m exhausted.”

The daughter pointed to her mother and nodded back. The mother wore sweat pants, had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and looked like she was badly in need of a long nap.

And online? Are you kidding me? First of all, who knows how something will fit; probably not like it does on the dear soul in the picture. Secondly, how do you even know if the site is legit or is a trap set for desperate women of a certain age? Thirdly, two words: shipping fees. Make that five words: return shipping fees.

Let me tell you about online shopping. If you type in the search word ‘dress – mother of the bride’ (mob, for short – I won’t take the bait, no I won’t), you will see either dresses with the obligatory jacket or low cut gowns that look like they just got back from the Oscars. When you’re at a point where cleavage is actually a thing, low cut isn’t as exciting as you might imagine. I appreciate the jacket idea. After all, sleeves are nice for someone (I’m sorry to say it, but that includes nearly all of us) whose arms resemble a chicken’s wattle. Some of the designers seem to know this; others haven’t a clue, or run with a crowd that spends time every day at the gym, or are under the illusion that the customer really does look like the 20 year old model.

I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Melania will be available for wardrobe consultations any time soon. You’re stuck with me. Here’s some of what I’ve learned along with a little advice. Take it or leave it:

1. Go to some stores and try things on even if they’re not what you want. You can get an idea of how a designer (*I use the term loosely – in my world JC Penney is a designer) sizes things. You’ll also get an idea of what you prefer.
2. You will learn to speak designer whether you want to or not. Not Dolce and Gabbana, mind you, but you will find out who the usuals are. Addrianna Papell’s dresses (who, according to Martha Stewart are the holy grail of bridal party wear) feel heavier (sequins and beads will do that) than Komarov. I loved the Komarov I tried on. It was lightweight and looked washable and like what a normal person might wear. Until I saw the price tag. Alex Evenings claims to offer the perfect fit for real shapes with materials that stretch. Gee, I wonder who they’re talking to.
3. Take a look around discount and consignment stores, including Ebay. Pat yourself on the back for trying to save money.
4. Look online for the designers * you like, and find something that’s actually closer to what you want than what the stores had.
5. Do not order it.
6. Type in the search word ‘evening gown’.
7.  You’ll find something that might more closely resemble what you were looking for in the first place, won’t be one of the few mob patterns offered in a variety of colors, and it will cost less.
8. Go ahead and eat the cookie. No one’s going to be looking at you anyway.