The Last Christian

W. O. W.

First, I should make it very clear that I am a big fan of apocalyptic/futuristic type stories. I loved Alas, Babylon. Brave New World. The Foundation Series. Gattaca. I Robot. I may be able to go on ad-nauseum. (I know, ME, WWII girl.) So, I admit, stories that put me far enough into the future to make their science (or lack thereof) just that side of freakishly wierd, but close enough to What Could Happen if things stay on their current course, intrigue me. That said...

Wow.

So The Last Christian takes you eighty years into the future where science has hit the vertical line in the learning curve and changes and "improvements" are taking place overnight. God has been virtually (no pun intended) replaced with Virtual Reality and the almighty human improvement brain implants. Truth is relative. Sin, as far as people are concerned, is so foreign as to be inexplicable.

I tell you what; this book is absolutely phenomenal. Not only was the story line fascinating the theology was as well. We, who live in our current world, know how hard it has become to explain sin and faith to a generation raised on tolerance. People today are living so frantically, manic, chasing the everything goes philosophy, it isn't a hard leap to know exactly what David Gregory is getting at. And his new angle to presenting the gospel has me intrigued enough that I think I will have to pick up his other book, The Rest of the Gospel: When the Partial Gospel Has Worn You Out (co-authored by Dan Stone, and apparently "Greg Smith" which I think is a pen name...? Clearly I haven't read this one yet.). 

Anyway, if you like futuristic/apocalyptic stories, I have a feeling you will love this.

Back Cover Copy:
A.D. 2088 Missionary daughter Abigail Caldwell emerges from the jungle for the first time in her thirty-four years, the sole survivor of a mysterious disease that killed her village. Abby goes to America, only to discover a nation where Christianity  has completely died out. A curious message from her grandfather assigns her a surprising mission: re-introduce the Christian faith in America, no matter how insurmountable the odds.

But a larger threat looms. The world's leading artificial intelligence industrialist has perfected a technique for downloading the human brain into a silicon form. Brain transplants have begun, and with them comes the potential of eliminating physical death altogether--but at what expense?

As Abby navigates a society grown more addicted to stimulating the body than nurturing the soul, she and Craighton Daniels, a historian troubled by his father's unexpected death, become unwitting targets of powerful men who will stop at nothing to further their nefarious goals. Hanging in the balance--the spirutual future of all humanity.

In this fast-paced thriller, startling near-future science collides with thought-provoking religious themes to create a spell-binding "what-if?" novel.

Jessica's "Daily Affirmation"

May 18, 1996

This day I married my friend.

My best friend.

It's kinda cliche, I know that, but oh, so true.

If you aren't marrying your best friend, you ought not be getting married.

Period.

I've been scampering around, fetching for him for three weeks now as he hobbles around on a broken foot. That he broke doing something that I don't enjoy being abandoned for him to do. Now I have to wait on him hand and foot. I got more than a little grumpy about it there for a few days. After the first three hours the thank yous ran out. I found that thank yous keep me going. A person who shall remain nameless brought my wedding vows into it. "In sickness and in health." (I'm not certain we used that line, by the way, but we probably did. My specific vows had more to do with "encouraging all you are as an individual." That I do remember.) As I told friends a couple days later, "I didn't promise I'd do it with a good attitude. All I promised was that I'd stay married. I have." Later, I told them it was the thank yous that were missing and messing me up. Since I told them, I told him. "Not every time, but a couple times a day would be nice." He has. Guess who is less crabby?

Communication.

You do that with friends.

Happy anniversary, Gimpy. Love you.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

"I eat a-gusting green stuff, I have [candy]bar? OK. I eat a-gusting green fings."

FYI, he took one more bite and decided even the peanut butter cup wasn't worth it.

The Reason Why I Love Yard Work

I’ve figured out why I love working in the yard. I can spend the entire day spinning my wheels inside cleaning one room while Charming messes up another, or needs to go potty, or change another set of clothes, or get something to eat. I can make cookies and a lasagna and serve it for supper. Scrape the dishes into the washer and head outside. 

In two hours time, while my kids are jumping on the trampoline, I can mow the lawn, plant a hydrangea, transplant three hostas (my neighbor cut down a couple trees, so now the “shade garden” is quite sunny) and plant two knock-out rose bushes. I can get in a visit with my neighbor and breathe fresh air. My entire yard looks better no matter from which direction you drive so the first impression is of a loved home.

And then I step in the door, trip over cars and three pair of underwear and notice the watermelon bowl is still on the table along with the chunks of lasagna that somehow misplaced themselves, and realize the dishwasher hasn’t been started and milk was spilled all over the kitchen floor and inappropriately cleaned up….

AND STILL FEEL LIKE I DID SOMETHING OF VALUE FOR THE DAY.

The garden center is my therapy. It costs about as much as Lexapro, but it works wonders without the nausea.

In the Continuing Saga that is the cat and animals in general

One minute (or evening) I'm snapping my husband's head off saying things like, "I HATE THIS CAT AND I RESENT THAT I (of all people) HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF HER! I NEVER WANTED A CAT! I HAVE ENOUGH PEOPLE AROUND HERE TO TAKE CARE OF!"

The next (afternoon) I'm chasing the big bully black and white cat off my porch screaming, "LEAVE MY CAT ALONE, YOU BIG BULLY, BEFORE I FIND OUT WHERE YOU LIVE AND HAVE YOU TAKEN OUT!"

Apparently I do like her enough that I don't want her picked upon and as long as she isn't knocking on the back door, just to make sure I am available to open it for her just in case she should want in (but probably doesn't).

Confessions

So, we joined a gym. I didn't admit that for a long time. That was a big confession. It seems like an extravagance and it doesn't make sense. WHY would we pay MONEY to DRIVE across town to work out when we have plenty of equipment in this house to keep us sweating 24 hours a day and not repeat a single exercise? Why, I ask?

Turns out that when you pay money, you want to get your money's worth.

That, and the gym is rather like going to a resort. I kid you not. It's clean. It smells nice. The people act like they're happy to see you (even if they aren't, I'm sure, but I can't tell, yet). There's a spa (that I haven't used). There's a cafe (that I have). They sell clothes. And healthy stuff. And they have DAYCARE.

You know why I don't do aerobics at home? Inevitably I'm stepping on someone who suddenly NEEDS to be held even if they were happily playing away in the other room when I started.

Here's the thing: I feel stronger. I feel better. When I hurt, it's a good hurt 99.3% of the time. I DID something. It's good. It's empowering. I went from weenie girl who couldn't hold a downward facing dog to a woman who can go into crow pose. In EIGHT WEEKS. It's fabulous.

Confession two and the reason I'm writing (in an effort to confess ye your sins one to another): We joined the club before they opened their doors. Which meant they had to keep us interested until they did open. Which means they called and had us in for free health assessments and stuff. (I told the guy who called, "What, so you can tell me I'm out of shape? Why do you think we joined the gym? We know this already.") But I went in for my assessment because he told me I had to.

I let people push me around back when I was weenie girl.

The thing is, when I filled out the assessment and talked with the trainer I said things like, "I'm OK with this weight as long as it's muscle."

I LIED.

I didn't think I lied. Really and truly. But she told me that even if I was solid muscle, I would probably lose at least five pounds. Certainly before I put it back on in muscle--if I chose to get that beefy. And I believed her. Who doesn't want to lose five pounds? I'm the heaviest I've ever been (not counting pregnancy and immediately following) so I know that the five pound loss would be feasible.

Really, not the point.

The thing is (I think this time, I'll really get to the thing that is), just before we started going to the gym, I drank all the soda I wanted, all the fatty coffee drinks I wanted, ate all the chips I wanted (which, of course, is the reason for the aforementioned weight increase) . Once we started going to the gym and making our bodies hurt all the time and training myself to RUN in addition to adding flexibility (and nearly passing out in kickboxing), we also gave up soda (for the most part) and all those other fatty things.

So I'm going to make my confession right here and now, and this is the one I've been working up to: If I'm not going to lose weight when I'm exercising more than I have in years and eating healthier than I have in years...tell me why I'm doing this? I have to admit that the drive to not drink Pepsi is fading, and rapidly.

Hubs told me eight weeks ago that we need to quit thinking of it as giving something up, but gaining something better (a healthy lifestyle) which worked really well for eight weeks as HE dropped 13 pounds, but as I've not so much as lost an OUNCE and have even fluxuated up a time or two, well, hmmmm, the Pepsi, she's a callin'.

I'm still digging the exercise part, but the self-denial? I'm gonna have to dig pretty deep on that one.