The Name of God

There was a moment when Moses had the nerve to ask God what his name is. God was gracious enough to answer, and the name he gave is recorded in the original Hebrew as YHWH.

Over time we’ve arbitrarily added an “a” and an “e” in there to get YaHWeH, presumably because we have a preference for vowels.

But scholars and Rabi’s have noted that the letters YHWH represent breathing sounds, or aspirated consonants. When pronounced without intervening vowels, it actually sounds like breathing.

YH (inhale): WH (exhale).

So a baby’s first cry, his first breath, speaks the name of God.

A deep sigh calls His name – or a groan or gasp that is too heavy for mere words.

Even an atheist would speak His name, unaware that their very breath is giving constant acknowledgment to God.

Likewise, a person leaves this earth with their last breath, when God’s name is no longer filing their lungs.

So when I can’t utter anything else, is my cry calling out His name?

Being alive means I speak His name constantly.

So, is it heard the loudest when I’m the quietest?

In sadness, we breathe heavy sighs.

In joy, our lungs feel almost like they will burst.

In fear we hold our breath and have to be told to breathe slowly to help us calm down.

When we’re about to do something hard, we take a deep breath to find our courage.

When I think about it, breathing is giving him praise. Even in the hardest moments!

This is so beautiful and fills me with emotion every time I grasp the thought. God chose to give himself a name that we can’t help but speak every moment we’re alive.

All of us, always, everywhere.

Waking, sleeping, breathing, with the name of God on our lips. *unknown*


Don’t know what to make of this place

I’m an aficionado of Pizza. I’ve had it pretty much in every continental state of the union and more than a couple countries around the world. I prefer a thin, hand tossed yeasted crust with a cornmeal dusting on the bottom, but I’ll eat almost any, just to try them — and I have enjoyed them all.

This trip had us in Des Moines (Iowa) and we ended up (as a second choice) at a place called The Other Place. They claim to have been in business selling the same recipe pizza for 50 years — and I believe them – but that means that Des Moines-ians must have a very different idea of what makes a great pizza than I do.

Buffalo Chicken Pizza – 17″

This Buffalo Chicken Pizza arrived looking scrumptious. Buffalo sauce spread on the puffy crust. Steamed chicken, covered with at least 2 kinds of cheese and baked. Unfortunately the crust was baked through but not long to develop that lovely flavor you get from a really browned crust!

I am hard pressed to describe this crust. It lacked any sense of salt — quite bland. The crust was do dry that there could not have been even a whiff of oil in the dough — resulting in a crust that was more like a thick biscuit with almost no color and little flavor. It tasted more like an unleavened Matzoh than a pizza crust.

The crust was thick — nearly 1/2 inch. But it was also hard — not in a crispy way, but in a hard to chew, hard to cut with a knife way.

The pizza was tasty because of the buffalo sauce, but there was no flavor to the chicken. The restaurant doesn’t say much about the cheese on their pizza. They say the Buffalo has a blend of 4 cheeses but when it came to the table hot the cheese was nice and stringy. But as the pizza cooled it retained it’s stringy texture much longer than any other pizza I’ve had — I’m unsure what kind of cheese combination might have done that unless one of them was cream cheese.

The pizza was supposed to include blue cheese somewhere in the making of it. I could not detect any blue cheese flavor at all.

It’s an odd review, I know. But as I said at the beginning, I’m not sure what to make of this. I doubt I’d order it again, but it was an interesting evening’s meal.


Happy Family Times

James, our Second Great Grandchild

Life is good lately. A little confused, but good.

We’ve been “stressing” about whether or not to take our first non-family related trip/vacation in three years. The concern has been LESS about COVID and more about the creeping ravages of advancing age.

In 2018 we attempted to take a trip to CA to visit Peg’s only brother before he passed (chronic bad health, he finally passed this past spring). But it was right after I started using CPAP and I was having a hard time dealing with the nasal mask they initially tried to get me to use. It turned out that we abandoned our effort and returned home about the time we reached Denver. With that frustrating failure in the back of our brain I wasn’t sure how far and how sustained a trip I was physically up to.

In the end we decided to go. But our grand daughter and her family were planning a quick trip to Chicago (where they met, and it’s Melanie’s 30th birthday this past weekend – a little family celebration). The plan was for the young’uns to drop James off in Milwaukee with the grand parents and them to carry on to Chicago for 36 hours. Mel was returning to Milwaukee earlier than dad and Sophia, and our daughter Katy planned a birthday celebration for Melanie with us and her paternal grandparents too.

Long story short is the day before our trip we were enjoying the pleasures of seeing our loved ones and laughing and eating together.


Our arch enemy, the weatherman, was forecasting a rapidly moving storm system that threatened to interrupt our departure. I took a good look at the 24 hour future radar and we took a chance on an early morning departure (hard to remember the last time I drove in the dark — pre sun-up).

In the end, we had about an hour of serious rain (spell that 40 mph on the Interstate highway with flashers on and no one else on the road!) and about 3 hours of drizzle. But… what we left behind was some serious rain.

All over S.E. Wisconsin we broke rainfall records as you can see from the chart published by TMJ4 — one of our local news outlets. We didn’t fear flooding (we have no basement, and we’re on high ground). Many of our Franklin neighbors, however, are not so lucky as the community Facebook page this morning is filled with stories of woe and flooding and failed sump-pumps. Milwaukee’s hard clay soil — if you can call it “soil” — is prone to basement flooding. When we were looking for homes it was shocking to me to discover how many had basement walls that had been bowed in by the weight of accumulated water outside the basement — requiring the installation of steel beams anchored to the concrete floor and the flooring joists.

Anyway…. we ran out of the rain about the time we reached the Quad Cities and the rest of our day was lovely.



Clever Passwords

I am NOT telling you to use this as a password. But I know full well the pain of having forgotten the odd password from time to time. The challenge — and it really is a challenge — of maintaining password records is herculean. They make password tools; some of them work better than others. The sheer number of places you need a password to access your personal account/information has ballooned exponentially over the years.

The thing is it pays to be careful about the passwords we use and how we keep track of them and just because something sounds foolproof to you doesn’t mean that a robot working far faster than you can’t figure out your invincible password in a few seconds if someone is determined to hack you.

The thing is, if you are clever enough to devise a really kewl password — someone else probably has had the same thought.

Find a safe tool to manage your secrets, and then keep that tool as secret as the passwords.


Late neolithic-era monuments

You can learn more if you follow the link below.

It’s funny the way a Zeitgeist — the spirit of the world — gets a hold of the collective consciousness and suddenly lots of people are doing the same thing — even when it’s exceptionally difficult or expensive.

by natgeomaps

Something momentous was in the air in the south of Britain about 4,500 years ago during the dying days of the Neolithic era, the final chapter of the Stone Age. Whatever it was—­religious zeal, bravura, a sense of impending change—it cast a spell over the inhabitants and stirred them into a frenzy of monu­ment building.

In an astonishingly brief span of time—perhaps as little as a century—people who lacked metal tools, horsepower, and the wheel erected many of Britain’s huge stone circles, colossal wooden palisades, and grand avenues of standing stones. In the process they robbed forests of their biggest trees and moved millions of tons of earth.