Pee on the Mountain

Today’s devotional reading was about mountains we should not climb. Or at least that is what it was supposed to be about. What I got out of it was “Pee when you can.” Read and decide for yourself.

I came across an article about a sixty-year-old woman who went up a mountain that any novice skier should have avoided. No one would have blamed her had she stayed behind. At twelve below zero, even Frosty the Snowman would have opted for the warm fire. Hardly a day for snow skiing, but her husband insisted. So she went.

While waiting in the lift line, she realized she was in need of a restroom, dire need of a restroom. Assured there would be one at the top of the lift, she and her bladder endured the bouncy ride, only to find there was no facility. She began to panic.  Her husband had an idea: Why not go into the woods? Since she was wearing an all-white outfit, she'd blend in with the snow. And what better powder room than a piney grove?

What choice did she have? She skied past the tree line and arranged her ski suit at half-mast. Fortunately, no one could see her. Unfortunately, her husband hadn't told her to remove her skis. Before you could say, "Shine on harvest moon," she was streaking backwards across the slope, revealing more of herself than she ever intended. (After all, hindsight is 20/20.) With arms flailing and skis sailing, she sped under the very lift she'd just ridden and collided with a pylon.

As she scrambled to cover the essentials, she discovered her arm was broken. Fortunately her husband raced to her rescue. He summoned the ski patrol, who transported her to the hospital.

While being treated in the emergency room, a man with a broken leg was carried in and placed next to her. By now she'd regained her composure enough to make small talk. "So, how'd you break your leg?" she asked.

"It was the darndest thing you ever saw," he explained. "I was riding up the ski lift and suddenly there was this crazy woman skiing backwards, at top speed, with her ski suit down around her knees. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I leaned over to get a better look. I guess I didn't realize how far I'd moved. I fell out of the lift."

Then he turned to her and asked, "So, how'd you break your arm?"

Retold by: Max Lucado

You decide the message for you.

On another note I found this intriguing little morsel of information. I can hardly wait to tell Mother tomorrow….LOL.

                             Manifold Valley from above Thors Cave, Staffordshire | England

In 1620 in Staffordshire, England a woman named Cassandra gave birth to a son she named John. 7 generations later in Roane County, West Virginia in 1932 Anna Paulina Matics was born.

                                             Path to the barn, Roane County, West Virginia.

In 1635 in Salem Massachusetts a beautiful baby girl was born and her Quaker mother, Cassandra named her Provided. But when she was 5 she died. In 1640 Cassandra gave birth to another daughter and this one she named Provided because GOD had indeed Provided her with another daughter. This daughter married a man named Samuel Gaskill and 8 generations later in Orange County, California in 1913 Richard Milhous Nixon was born. 

The attempted sale into slavery of the children of Lawrence and Cassandra Southwick by Gov. Endicott and his minions for being Quakers. 

In the lithograph above the woman on the right with her hands bound is Provided. But that is another story. 

How do all these people relate you might ask? I am about to tell you. Cassandra was born in Warwickshire, England in 1601 and she married a man named Lawrence Southwick in about 1620. This Cassandra is the mother of both John and Provided meaning President Richard Milhous Nixon and my mother Anna Paulina Matics are cousins. How do I fit in? 

President Nixon is my 9^th cousin once removed. That means we share a great grandparent 9 generations back. And he is one generation older.

So my other cousins out there aren’t you happy I do this research?

Have a very Presidential Day!!