Lift Up Your Hearts!

Less than a month after Russia's 2022 invasion of the Ukraine, I posted "Pray for Russia." Three years later, it's still on my heart, so I'm repeating it, with some emphasis added.

Are you a person who prays?

Are you praying for the Ukraine, its people, and its leaders? Good. They need it, obviously and desperately.

But are you also praying for Russia? Are you praying for Vladimir Putin and his advisors?

I can't speak for any other traditions of prayer, but for Christians our responsibility is crystal clear: In addition to other Biblical precedent, we have a direct command from Our Lord to love and pray for our enemies.

If that isn't good enough, consider that the Russian people didn't ask for this. If we rightly fear domination of the people of Ukraine by Putin and the Russian oligarchs, we know that the Russians have been living that life for a long time.

Our sanctions may convince Putin to withdraw his forces, or they may drive him into desperate actions and alliances that will come back to bite us hard. That's not clear yet. What is definite is that they have tanked the Russian economy, and the Russian people are heading into financial hardship of a kind that has passed out of the living memory of our own country.

If their suffering is not enough to convince you to pray for them, consider what happened in Germany after World War I, when the winners of that conflict made certain that the German economy would be completely devastated.

Have I convinced you to pray for the Russians? How about President Putin? It is so easy to fear him, and to hate him!

For Christians, again the command is clear: we must love him, and pray for him. (We don't have to like him.) Regardless of how we feel about him, he is as valuable in the eyes of God as we are. And if, as we'd like to believe, he is less worthy of our prayers, that only means he needs them the more.

But if that's not enough, we must pray for Putin for our own safety's sake. He's a man in command of a large and powerful nation, with his finger on the nuclear button. We all know from experience how much damage the last two years of pandemic isolation have done to people's mental health. From all accounts, Putin has taken this isolation to an extreme. If he was unstable before, what of now?

What's more, in our collective response to his invasion of the Ukraine, we have been backing him into a corner with no way to save face. We seem determined to defeat him utterly and humiliate him, forgetting that cornered bears are exceedingly dangerous. Finding a win-win situation is not capitulation; it's wise diplomacy, and much more likely to lead to a lasting peace.

I don't know how this dangerous and tragic situation should properly be handled. I don't know if we are being Neville Chamberlains or if we are being driven by the fear of making his mistakes into making more disastrous mistakes of our own. I don't see a Winston Churchill on the horizon.

I do know that the one thing we can do is to pray. For the Ukraine, and for Russia. For NATO, for the European Union, and for all the world leaders who don't know what they're doing and are doing it very enthusiastically.

I often hesitate to share articles from the Epoch Times, because although many of them are free to read, some people have been put off by the requirement to enter an e-mail address. I understand, and am grateful that I have an infinite supply of e-mail addresses to use—and thus to block if they start generating spam. (One of the blessings of having your own domain.) However, there are many articles worth sharing, so I'm going to start posting some of them for those who aren't turned away by the requirement for an address (assuming they are still doing that).

From Veganism to Vitalism: Why I Left Industrial Plant-Based Culture for Real Food, Real Soil, and Real Community, by Mollie Engelhart, warmed my heart for the same reasons Polyface Farms and Joel Salatin have impressed me so much. To whet your appetite, here are a few quotations from the article.

My commitment to the environment led me to start my own farm as a way to manage the food waste from my restaurants. I was the founder and executive chef of Sage Vegan Bistro, which eventually became Sage Regenerative Bistro. I wanted to close the loop—grow the food, feed the people, compost the scraps, and build healthy soil. But the deeper I got into that system, the more I began to see the cracks in the story I had believed so fully.

Living on the land and growing my own food broke me wide open. I started to realize that the version of “ethical eating” I had bought into—and helped promote—left out most of the truth.

I found myself drawn to the small farmers around me—the ones working with animals, not against them. I began visiting more of their farms, asking more questions, and slowly, inevitably, became one of them. I went from observing to participating.

When you bring animals onto the land—when cows graze, chickens scratch, and pigs root—you build an ecosystem. Nutrients cycle naturally. Soil comes alive. There’s a rhythm to it, a divine order. Every part has a role. The death of one thing nourishes the life of another. And when you participate in that cycle, it humbles you. It teaches you. It changes you.

I didn’t leave veganism because I stopped caring about animals. I left because I started caring more—about the whole picture. About ecosystems. About what happens before the almond milk hits the shelf. About the water, the soil, the labor, the waste, and the long chain of consequences that “ethical” labels so often obscure.

Regeneration isn’t just a farming practice. It’s a worldview. It means taking full responsibility—for our choices, for our impact, for our role in the cycle of life. It’s not about purity or perfection. It’s about participation. ... The way back is right beneath our feet—in the soil, in our communities, and in the relationships we build with the land and each other.

Here are some related posts, from 2009 to 2023.

• Conservationist Living
• Strange Bedfellows? Not Really
• The Omnivore's Dilemma
• Everything I Want to Do Is Illegal,
• Fruitless Fall
• The Raw Milk Revoution
• Small (Agriculture) Is Beautiful

The last is part of a speech given by Joel Salatin in 2022, which I reproduce here:

Are you listeining, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.? This could go a long way toward making American healthy again.

I believe our new Secretary of Health and Human Services is listening; at least, I have hope that progress will be made toward encouraging regenerative farming, sustainable agriculture, and food freedom in general.

Enthusiasm, fortitude, patience, and joy are good qualities in a president.

I wouldn't wish that job on one of my grandchildren any more than I'd wish them leukemia. Nonetheless, I would vote for her.

President Grace Daley speaks at the Smithsonian.

From Daley Ponderings:

Grace is having ear surgery tomorrow to explore what's going on, get a biopsy, and maybe get a tube in.  The oncology/NF1 doctor also managed to schedule her bone marrow aspirate for the same day so Grace will not have to be sedated twice in a few weeks.

Prayers for all that accompanies sedation (including fasting, Jon's conversation with the anesthesiologist, and emergence) are appreciated. And that they will find exactly what they need to, that everything will be clear. And that her marrow will still be all Faith's!

I'm more than pleased that they thought to spare her the extra sedation.  I'm less happy with the idea of ear surgery, but sometimes you have to trust that the doctors know what they're doing....  And pray.

This post has been sitting around for a while, waiting for an opportune time to be published. Given the recent news about 23andMe's decision to go Chapter 11 on us and seek someone to buy the company, now seems as good a time as any.

I'm inclined not to join the delete-my-data panic. It's concerning, but Ancestry.com changed hands back in 2020 without such fanfare. I'm not convinced that deleting our data is going to help anything. But it's worth being aware of.

In the meantime....

23andMe has updated my ancestry composition analysis. AncestryDNA does that periodically, but this is the first from 23andMe in a while—and it includes a surprise.

You have to take DNA ancestry results with a bit of a grain of salt, as is evident when you see the results change with each update. As more data become available, as the algorithms are refined, as the population areas are adjusted, the analysis changes somewhat. I'm okay with that; I never take what they tell me as gospel-accurate. Results also differ between services, as they each have their own data and their own algorithms to analyze that data. That said, the general pattern of my results remains the same: I'm about as Northern European as you can get, and most of that is from England and northern Ireland/southern Scotland. Here's 23andMe's latest estimate:

There are actually two surprises

According to their estimates, I actually have a stronger connection to the category, "Mayflower Descendants" than Porter does—and he has one proven Mayflower line and two more that are highly likely. I know of only one probable line for myself, and that is most difficult to prove. (Advancement in genetic genealogy seems to be my best hope for that. Mid-state New Yorkers were not nearly as good at keeping records as the New Englanders were.) Given that there are now some 35 million descendants of the Mayflower passengers, I don't give much credence to my supposed stronger connection.

The second surprise is hidden under the category "French & German—Muota Valley." For the first time, the results show significant numbers from that region; what's more, this is the Muota Valley! (Click to enlarge.)

In my research, I had seen hints of some Swiss ancestry on my mother's side, but nothing that I can prove, so finding a connection to the place where our overseas family now resides was cool. As I said, you have to hold genealogical DNA results somewhat lightly—but I'll happily embrace the fun stuff when I can!

Was it a dream or a nightmare?

Both, I think. It was frightening, but it also ended before I wanted it to.

Elon Musk had come to audit my genealogical work.

It was a nightmare, because my research has been sorely neglected for years, and my records are in terrible shape.

On the other hand, he showed me patterns I had not seen, and had ideas I hadn't thought of. I was making progress! Alas, as with most dreams, everything useful fled upon awakening—except the all-important inspiration to get back to work.

If Elon Musk and DOGE will never scrutinize my genealogical efforts, the heirs of my research and my records will, and when the time of their judgement comes, it will be too late for me to get my work in order.

This week, we combined a number of objectives into one visit to Florida's St. Augustine: Showing Noah the sights of America's oldest city, giving him the final "cross-country" trip needed for his IFR license, and using a free Marriott stay that was threatening to expire. It was not the cheapest way to see the city, but it sure was fun.

We left early Monday morning, Noah and I flying in a Cessna 182Q Skylane, and Porter driving our car so that we would have transportation at our destination. Despite a last-minute warning of violent storms that could have scuttled the whole trip, the weather could not have been more beautiful.

I began the journey with an amusing (in hindsight) incident. As I was climbing up into the plane, the seat back that I was holding onto shifted, I lost my grip, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground, looking up at the sky. I did better on the second attempt, no worse for wear except for having pulled a muscle in my left arm. That's well on its way back to health, but I'll admit I did entertain thoughts of visiting Centra Care just so that when they asked me what my problem was, I could reply, "I fell out of an airplane."

Thanks to heavy traffic at the Sanford Airport, plane and car arrived at the Northeast Florida Regional Airport at about the same time, and our Saint Augustine adventure began.

One place I have not yet tired of visiting is the Castillo de San Marcos. After that, we walked down St. George Street, and ate lunch at Mimi's Famous Crepes, another St. Augustine must-see ... er, must-eat.

Thus fortified, we spent quite a while in the Lightner Museum, followed by the Villa Zorayda Museum. We crossed the Bridge of Lions at just the right time to get stranded on the far side when the drawbridge opened, but not for long. Dinner we enjoyed on the balcony of O. C. White's Seafood restaurant; it was a bit windy, but pleasant with a nice view.

Porter and I had visited the Spanish Military Hospital many years ago, but this time found it changed considerably, being more of a lecture than a tour, and with less that we could see on our own. (Not that we can rely on our own memories for that, having recently proven that we can watch a Poirot mystery multiple times and be surprised by the identity of the murderer each time.) Nonetheless, we found it worthwhile.

The next day, we partook of our free Fairfield Inn breakfast, and then drove to the Saint Augustine Lighthouse and Maritime Museum. That, too, has changed a lot (and for the better—more to see) since we were there last. Fortunately, they still allow you to climb the 219 steps to the top. (Photo of me at the top courtesy Noah Daley.)

From there, we visited the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum. I know we have one of our own in Orlando, but St. Augustine's is the original. If the Lightner Museum is the collection of the eclectic accumulations of a very wealthy man, Ripley's is the version for the hoi polloi, grotesque rather than elegant. Worth visiting every dozen years or so.

For lunch we returned to Mimi's, this time for savory rather than sweet crepes—the Bacon & Brie crepe is well worth returning for—supplemented by Ben's Soft Pretzels next door. After that it was time for the final leg of the adventure, and here we are approaching the runway at Sanford. (As with most photos here, click to enlarge.) An accident on I-95 caused us to beat Porter home, but not by much. We knew he would be late, because we saw the traffic jam as we flew over it.

Jon began his latest update on Grace this way:

An ENT, a radiologist and an oncologist walk into a bar.... Oh, maybe not, but they at least had a discussion about Grace while looking over the MRI and CT scan together, and the conclusion is that it isn't a plexiform fibroma at all! Which is what Heather has had the faith to pray for all along! 

So, great news!

He continued, however with something scary: Because they are still looking for the cause of her mild hearing loss, Grace is scheduled for surgery, and more anesthesia. :( Thursday, March 27, time TBD but probably early morning.

[The plan is] to check out the potential fluid behind her ear (last time I talked to the ENT, he was thinking it might not be fluid, but some spongy tissue), possibly install a tube in her ear drum to let the fluid out, if it is there but getting blocked from going down her eustachian tube, and do a biopsy to grab near the potential NF1 fibroma to see what it is.

There's so much to be thankful for, and still so much to pray for. Thank you all for your loving support.

Sometimes the Babylon Bee—like much modern satire—is too heavy-handed for my taste. And other times it is spot on. This pretty much sums up what I'm feeling about our federal judges right now. You can read the article here, but this is the best part.

A district judge has issued a ruling saying Trump lacked the Constitutional authority to pick up two astronauts who have been stranded at the International Space Station for several months.

SpaceX has been ordered to return the astronauts immediately.

The SpaceX craft docked at the ISS on Sunday and was preparing for the return journey to Earth when the orders stopped the process short. "Please bring us home, I just want a cheeseburger and a nap in a horizontal bed," said one of the crew.

At publishing time, Trump was polling at 100% approval among the stranded astronaut demographic.

Grace has a bone marrow test at Dartmouth today, where they check to make sure it's all good cells with no lingering defective ones. This is big, even if routine.

I haven't published results from last Friday's appointments, because the doctors are still pondering them.  Here's all I know, from Heather:

[They don't] think the hearing loss is related to the fibroma. There may be bone erosion, not sure what cause. So a lot of discussion needs to happen.The fibroma really is pretty small. I do not know if they can show a shrinking between tests, but I wouldn't be surprised.

Sandwiched between 3:14 (Pi Day) and 3:17 (St. Patrick's Day) is

3:16 (Greatest Love Day)

John 3:16, that is.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

In honor of which I present this beautiful anthem, John Stainer's God So Loved the World. No, that's not our choir. But Porter and I have sung this many times and it's one of our favorites.

I created this back in November, before denigrating the world's richest man became almost as popular a pasttime as abusing President Trump. But now seems the right time to post it, because yesterday...

... we watched the SpaceX rescue mission finally take off. And it took off like a ... well, like a rocket! I don't know if the impression of excessive speed was an effect of the more powerful engines, or of the launch trajectory, or both, but normally there's a significant wait between liftoff and the time we can see the spacecraft. This time, the flame appeared from behind our neighbor's house in almost no time at all, and it barely gave me a chance to snap a photo.

Godspeed on your mission, SpaceX Crew-10!

Sometimes I don't mind showing my age: When contemplating a post appropriate for both the day of the lunar eclipse and Pi Day, this is what came immediately to mind: Dean Martin's "That's Amore."

I didn't bake a pie for Pi Day this year, but we did watch the eclipse. My cell phone camera is great for most things, but completely failed in capturing anything of the event worth publishing.

The real-life sight, however, was well worth setting my alarm clock for. We had a great view from our front yard, and the weather was perfect, i.e. a cloudless sky, with the temperature cool but pleasant.

UPDATE:  Noah's high-quality camera (and patience) produced much more interesting photos.  Here's one (click to enlarge).

I woke up just before midnight for the onset, and watched until I could discern—or at least thought I could discern—a small bite taken out of the moon. At 1:30 a.m., about halfway to totality, the sight was impressive, and we enjoyed the brief moments of totality around 3 a.m. With all the hype about the "blood moon," I expected it to be redder than it was, but that did not detract.

The first lunar eclipse that I remember would have been when I was five years old or so. I recall getting up early in the morning and going with my father to a place where we could watch it in the early dawn. I have one image in my mind: my father crouching beside me as we watched the moon low in the dawning sky. It was cold, but not excessively so. I don't know how aware I was of the significance of the lunar eclipse, but I do remember that I was doing something very special with my father, and that was priceless.

You may have noticed that I have often been leaving open the option to comment on my posts, despite what I said in "More Blog Changes." It turns out that cutting off blog comments is harder than I thought. I could easily disable all comments, but I want exceptions for certain posts and categories, which is a lot more work. Besides, I've discovered that I really miss the opportunity for cheery and encouraging notes from my readers, even if they are rare.

So I'm trying something different: cutting off old posts at the time they become attractive to spammers and trolls, instead of trying to make large-scale changes all at once. This "surgical strike" approach drags out the process but is more manageable. Why try to fix what isn't (yet) broken?

With new posts, it's easy to choose comments/no comments at the time they are published, so I'm going to be experimenting with how I handle that.

Life is a work in progress, and so is writing.

Back in December, I wrote about the time Noah took his little sister flying.

Today was our turn.

We flew to Ocala and back in a Piper Cherokee Archer.

Not only was the flying fun, but so was seeing (and hearing) an international airport from the "inside." Thanks, Noah!