bierkergaard

The warmer Winter has now turned into a hot Spring here in Central Pennsylvania. It looks like we will be slipping back into some colder weather soon but in the meantime the greenhouse temps have caused both blooms and weeds to arrive early like party-crashers. A good cold snap will do both harm and help to the early growth. In the meantime, yesterday, I had to get into some hand-to-hand combat with the nasties. I donned my long pants, long-sleeved shirts, leather gloves, boots, and a hat--like a horticultural haz-mat suit--and went to war on the weeds.  I am not allergic to much in this world but some weeds like Thistles cause me to break out with hives as a teen with acne. Sort of like Superman with kryptonite. How wise it was for the creators of Superman to retain an element of vulnerability in even Superman. Nietzsche, take heed.  In his poetic babbling on about Ubermensch, he went down. "He who exalts himself will be humbled," (i.e. humiliated) God promises.    

I have a frustrating habit of explaining why I make mistakes. Rather the just admit that I was mistaken, I go into more detail. The anatomy of an error. It is good when we can reflect on ourselves without outside correction and I noticed my tendency to get into these situations without someone actually pointing out my proclivity to generate an explanation, more often an excuse, for an error I have made. I can be defensive. I have many good qualities but this is not one of them. I am sure others have noticed the pattern. I am attempting to cut to the chase when I blow it. Today I did so in an email with no explanation.   Own  up that a mistake was made and move on. Most people are more than willing to let mistakes go but belaboring them magnifies their lasting impression. Confess, close the circle. James says as much when he writes, "Confess your sins to each other." Although my mistakes are not always sin, some are. But the spirit of openness required is the same. Don&

Yes, I am a Scofflaw. Well, sort of. I was perfectly on-time for a conference yesterday in the City of York until a road was closed. That's the problem with planning  to be on time. No margin. So, I walked in 5 minutes late and that was no big deal. However, since it was early and I was in a hurry, I didn't really assess the road I parked on as carefully as I could have to try and detect traffic flow...I parked the wrong way on a One-Way street. When, the day ended it was pretty obvious that my car was parked the wrong way since all of the traffic was going the other way. I prepared myself for the inevitable. An invitation to contribute to the York City Parking Authority or get the Boot on my car if they could finger me in their town again. When I saw the ticket flapping on my windshield I got pissed. Where is the One-Way traffic sign? There was a parallel road to the road that I parked on with a median of several feet and I considered that this was a clue that I should ha

I have started reading through the book of Isaiah. King Uzziah has just died. He went from being a strong leader to a leper because he burnt incense in the Temple. The Priests confronted him in the act that this was a violation of Church and State. Only the Priests could burn incense in the Temple. As a King, he thought he made the rules. Not so, God does. Different roles, different rules. Different rulers. God's checks and balances. Interesting that incensed also means anger and Uzziah was wroth (King James version) at the Priests for their audacity in calling him out. Anger is a concentrated and pungent emotion, full of smoke and fire. I can see the parallels. He soon learned that he had overstepped his power due to pride, and he spent the rest of his days banished from both the Throne and the Temple because of his leprosy. Men over-reach and do not only not get what they desired but also lose what they had. The Apostle Paul reminds us that "Godliness with contentment i

The visage presented to you in the above picture is Christian Rock god Mike Roe. He played last night with fellow 77's bandmate David Leonhardt to a show of about 100 here in Lancaster, Pa. No Groupies to be found but plenty of Grannies. Some lady was trying to unload her two tickets to the show on Facebook because she could not find a sitter. Ah, middle-age. The crowd trended older with a few youngsters thrown in who probably were tuned into the 77's by their parents. I once drove about 1300 miles over a three-day weekend to see the 77's play at a Christian Rock festival. The weekend was Hell and I walked away from the scathing ruins of the experience wondering what possessed me to be so foolhardy. An acquaintance of mine, whose car broke down in Morgantown, West Virginia, on Saturday morning, needed a ride the rest of the way to Kentucky...and yours truly picked him up after I had already arrived at the Festival the night before. He then proceeded to enter the manic