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DAY 4’s GIVE-AWAY

It’s Sunday evening and we have 2 give-aways to draw for. Sherri Million never responded to Day 2’s giveaway, so husband re-drew and BONNIE BROWN...you’ve won the bluebonnet trio. Please message me with your address and with your email so I can mail the photos and transmit your eBook copy of Roped.

And now for Day 4’s drawing of two fall landscapes from Bar Harbor, Maine.
The winner is…VICKIE CAINE! So Vickie, I need your email and street address to send your prizes…2 matted photos and the eBook of Roped.

Thank you ladies! Hope you enjoy the pictures. I sure enjoyed taking them!

AND NOW TO CATCH UP! DAY 4’S GIVE-AWAY…TWO DIFFERENT AND GORGEOUS LANDSCAPES OF MAINE’S FLORA AND FAUNA! AWARDED TONIGHT AROUND 9 PM (Really. I’m home and on the BIG computer :)) If you haven’t posted a comment yet, now’s the time to do so! Not only the photos but an eBook copy of Roped! And those of you who haven’t posted reviews of Roped yet, I would sure appreciate your help! Thanks and hope you win!

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                  APOLOGIES! APOLOGIES! APOLOGIES!

Husband and I had to be in Shreveport, La. for a company function yesterday and today. I took my laptop and had one of his folks set me up to post yesterday’s winner of the Maine photos…and when I tried to post last night the system wouldn’t let me even send an email nevertheless a blog, Facebook, or any other post. I am so sorry.

Let’s hear the applause…CATHY HINOJOS is last night’s winner of the two matted Bar Harbor, Maine photos! Yay Cathy! Please message me your street address and email address so I can send you the eBook Roped and get your photos in the mail!

NEWS FLASH: SHERRI MILLION YOU WON DAY 2 GIVE-AWAY! Need to hear from you by Sunday evening to claim your prize. Message me!

And now for Day 3’s give-away. Y’all know the drill. The names of those registered who haven’t won, stays in the hat. You all have twenty-four hours to send me a comment about Roped and have your name placed in the pile. Hope you win!

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Let’s have another drum roll, please. The winner of Day 2’s and eBook copy of “ROPED” and trio of matted bluebonnet photograph is…..SHERRI MILLION!!!!! Congratulations, Sherri. If you will message me with your address and and email address, I’ll get those prizes off to you! WooHoo another winner…and ten more to go!!!!!

AND WHAT COULD BE MORE APPROPRIATE THAN BLUEBONNETS?

I’m saving your names in the hat, so the rest of you have twenty-four hours to comment about ROPED and have your name added to the pile. Hope you win!

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DRUM ROLL PLEASE!!!!! The winner of the Texas barn and hay bales painting is….WARREN JOHNSON! Warren if you’ll message me with your address and email, I’ll ship the painting to you and forward the eBook…which variety of eBook do you prefer?  Hope you enjoy the painting!

DiAne

                                

AMAZON.COM IS ACCEPTING REVIEWS FOR ROPED TODAY…THURSDAY, AUGUST 20TH

EXCITING NEWS TONIGHT – ROPED IS UP ON AMAZON.COM! YOU CAN ORDER NOW!

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Beginning Thursday, August 20th through August 31st. There will be a daily drawing for gifts. Send a comment about Roped to dianegates@sbcglobal.net, https://dianegates.wordpress.com/, or to my FaceBook Page-DiAne Gates, to be part of the drawing. Pictures of prizes will be posted each day and the prize of the day awarded the same evening. So don’t forget! Enter as many times as you wish. Roped will be released Friday, August 21st. You can purchase eBook or order print at Amazon.com.

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Now who in their right mind, would willingly choose to tie themselves to two thousand pounds of rank hamburger and go for a Saturday night drive?

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Yep. I know some folks who do.
’Cause many courageous or insane men do this week in and week out here in the Southwest and all over the world. They are bull riders! And they are special. Thrill seekers with a purpose—to survive those eight seconds on the biggest, bad-est bull of the bunch and take home a platter- sized buckle and a bunch-a-money.

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They ride bulls with intimidating names, like Copperhead Slinger, Troubadour, Chicken on a Chain, and Evil One.
Our son is a fighter pilot and ever since he charted his course to fly, my husband told him: “There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots.” But I’m here to introduce you—outrageous as it may seem to the geeks and nay-sayers—two bold, senior, bull riders. Bull riders who are alive and doing quite well in Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Arizona, and New Mexico!
But the bull rider’s best friend is the cowboy on the ground—Mike Jones. For more than a quarter of a century Mike has been a key player in the world of rodeo, providing protection to bull riders all over the States. He is currently the Ultimate Bullfighting Tour President, and he still competes!

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On the left meet Shawn Best, Sr. a/k/a Iron Man. Shawn has qualified to the INFR twenty-sevenDSCF8178 years. And twenty-three of those years in all three rough stock events. This Iron Man has won over one hundred saddles. And he still rides in the WSPBR today.
In the center is rodeo photographer, Tex Travis. Tex is co-host of Internet TV show, Texas Ranch N Rodeo. Where would all these events be without the fearless photographer, endangering life and limb to catch those breath-taking photos we all know and love.
And on the right is former rodeo rough stock athlete, Pepper Stewart, most known for his work as a bullfighter. Pepper hosts the Internet TV show Texas Ranch N Rodeo Weekly, seen world wide and in syndication in the UK.

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Each one of these three heroes of the arena are also bold, successful businessmen who will confirm the positive impact rodeo has had on their lives and has on today’s youth.
So folks, if you still wonder why bull riders and bull fighters have that famous cowboy swagger that make girls swoon, I ask you—if you’d been in the arena with two thousand pounds of hell-on-a-hoof and lived to tell the tale—bet you’d have a swagger too!
A few years back, while sitting atop a fence at the Rockdale Arena, I had an up close and personal experience with a bull by the name of Booger Daddy. Almost made me trade my camera for a skate board…woulda been lots safer. To read the story, click on the link Booger Daddy below. Instead, I put ’im in my book, Roped, due to be released by Prism Book Group and available August 21st on Amazon.com.
That’ll teach that critter to scare the bejeebers outta me.
Stay tuned for details of the release celebration…be sure to register for the daily drawings…prizes galore!

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DSCF8005 That’s rodeo—now and forever.

Anywhere there’s a pen, a horse, a bull and a cowboy (or girl), DSCF8096from one edge of the globe to the other. ‘Specially in Texas!

Young, old, and every age in between, rodeo’s in the blood.

While the sport originated as light-hearted competition and entertainment between ranch hands on their days off, today’s rodeos have evolved from entertainment to professional events. And, if the luck of the draw favors you DSCF8158with good horses, rank bulls, and a whole bunch-a-skills, you can make money, meet lots of great folks, and have a heck-of-a-good time in the process.

Astrodome-type rodeos are cleaned up and cement-ized. Dust is kept to a minimum for all you citified folks. There’s not a chance of gettin’ the flick of a horse’s tail in your face or gettin’ your boots dirty. But for an up-close andV__DB58 exciting opportunity, local youth rodeos and ropin’s are the perfect opportunity to enjoy the thrill of watching the skills and courage of these young people—some less than six years old—in their war of wits against the stock and fellow competitors.

Upon arriving in Texas, over thirty years ago, I had no clue what rodeo was about, and categorized it with the circus. Boy was I wrong.

Taking a writing course, I was supposed to observe a child I didn’t know and write about them. My business partner was a barrel racer and so was her daughter—my learning curve soared and that rodeo spirit shot through me like a hefty dose of B12. DSCF8160 I love rodeo and the spirit of competition and care it engenders in the youngsters for their livestock and everyone involved in this should-be-Olympic sport. DSCF8177 Today begins the 20-day-countdown to Prism Book Group’s August 21st release of my first western adventure entitled, ROPED.

“Thirteen-year-old Crissy Crosby chases a dream to live up to her parents’ rodeo legacy. But the rodeo championship is two months away and problems beyond her ability to solve stack and teeter like a game of Tumbling-Towers.

Prejudice, anger, and dark secrets simmer in a pot of family feuds destined to boil over in a tragic nightmare at the rodeo.

Will Crissy develop courage and faith to overcome the consequences of her temper? Will her dreams of buckles and titles become reality? Or will the character-building adversities of her life quash her dreams forever?”

Hope you stay tuned for the next few weeks as my blog’s tempo changes, and we explore rodeo. During release week there will be prizes awarded (which I will be unveiling soon) along with instructions of how to register for the drawings.

Next week’s blog: Eight Seconds and Fifteen Hundred Pounds of Hell—And The Bull Riders Who Survive!

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dianegates's avatarMOVING THE ANCIENT BOUNDARIES

Splashing through puddles carved by the tides. Wiggling our toes in the coarse sand of Little Talbot Island. And chasing Mama and Daddy down the beach to their favorite fishing spot, was my brother’s and my delight each Wednesday afternoon when we were kids.

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Daddy loved to surf fish.
And Mama? Well, I think there must’ve been a little competition between those two—you know—who would catch the bigger fish before the colors of sunset bled into the horizon.
Atlantic waves pounded the shore of this wild and tiny island between Mayport and Fernandina Beach, Florida. Many of this nation’s aircraft carriers were stationed just across the inlet at Mayport. The waters were deep and the waves majestic, making this lonely stretch of beach a fisherman’s paradise and a kid’s gigantic water park.

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The roaring waves, beach sand, and sea breeze, coupled with the security of the carriers in the distance…

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Splashing through puddles carved by the tides. Wiggling our toes in the coarse sand of Little Talbot Island. And chasing Mama and Daddy down the beach to their favorite fishing spot, was my brother’s and my delight each Wednesday afternoon when we were kids.

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Daddy loved to surf fish.
And Mama? Well, I think there must’ve been a little competition between those two—you know—who would catch the bigger fish before the colors of sunset bled into the horizon.
Atlantic waves pounded the shore of this wild and tiny island between Mayport and Fernandina Beach, Florida. Many of this nation’s aircraft carriers were stationed just across the inlet at Mayport. The waters were deep and the waves majestic, making this lonely stretch of beach a fisherman’s paradise and a kid’s gigantic water park.

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The roaring waves, beach sand, and sea breeze, coupled with the security of the carriers in the distance shouted freedom and joy. Though my brother and I had no understanding of anything but delight as we played in the breaking waves.
Our parents challenge, however, was to propel their lines into deeper waters—beyond the breakers, to catch fish.
I watched Daddy cast his salt water line, time and time again, only to have it wash back and swirl around the waist deep water where he stood. So he spent much of his time reeling in and recasting to keep from being snagged by the razor-sharp hook. But the more he fished, the stronger his casting arm became. And my brother and I would bet how many casts before that hook and bait would land beyond the waves, into the gentle swells of the ocean’s current.

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Mama was another story. Try as she might, she spent most of her afternoons casting. Reeling in and recasting, in an attempt to get out of the shallows and into those currents beyond the breakers. Her casting arm wasn’t as strong as Daddy’s—unless she was applying the rod of discipline to our backsides. Hmm, guess she got more practice on our fannies.
How about your casting arm? Is it strong? It takes muscles—spiritual muscles—and practice to cast our troubles, our pain, and our sinful habits on Jesus. But isn’t that what He instructs us to do?
“Therefore, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:6-7 NKJV).

Notice the Word says casting—it’s more than a one time thing. It’s an ongoing action. But we lack patience and the stick-to-it perseverance to build the strength to cast our cares out of the shallows and beyond the breakers into the current of God’s love.
Yep, we squench our eyes shut in the midst of distress, toss up a prayer in the chaos, and wonder why God doesn’t wave His magic wand to remove the problem. And the turmoil washes right back over us, sometimes hooking and harming whatever or whomever it snags. Our arms and our spirits are weak. No strength. No aim. And no ability to see beyond the current crisis.

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More often, the consequences of our sins knock us down in the shallows where the waves crash and keep us floundering in the shifting sand of habits. Our hope is rescue. Immediately. But perhaps God’s greater purpose is building spiritual muscles—muscles that will allow us to cast our troubles beyond the back-wash into the currents of His grace and forgiveness and leave them there.
Just this past week, I experienced those swirling hours of hook dodging. I didn’t take the proper precautions to insure a smooth move from one apartment to the other. I was too busy to begin the few days before the move with the Lord. Oh, I’d tossed up a generic prayer while mentally reciting my to-do-list. And when things fell apart my response was anger—a severe verbal thunderstorm that leaped from my mouth and struck with lightning zaps on everyone in proximity.
By dark, the cement wall of consequences loomed in front of me. And I spent a sleepless night before I humbled myself before the Lord. Admitting a long list of failures and sins, and releasing—yes I said releasing. Releasing and accepting the consequences of whatever God allowed.
So often we continue casting our pitiful, ping-pong of pathetic, wanna be prayers toward the ceiling. While the consequences of our disobedience to stop, humble ourselves, and be quiet before Him, crash and break around us and we flop like stranded fishes in those shallow-water waves.

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Stopping means cease striving. Humbling means searching my soul. Admitting means holding nothing back—being honest with God about what He already knows. And releasing means a willingness to accept beforehand whatever consequences God deems appropriate.
Remember, the longer the striving, the heavier the consequence.
But the rewards of learning to cast our cares out of the shallows, beyond the crushing waves of life, into the deep swells of God’s love brings a harvest.
Fish—the ability to become fishers of men!
Until I learn to abide in the deep currents of God’s will, rather than enduring the pounding of chaotic waves, why should anyone want to be like me?
God challenges and instructs me to live life beyond the breakers. But it’s my choice—struggling in the shallows or learning to sail in the gentle swells of His love.

“…casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”

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Too Late

Truths and warnings by my friend and brother in Christ, Ernie Carrasco. All I can add is, “Hear ye! Hear ye! Oh please, please, hear ye!

DiAne

Ernesto E. Carrasco, M.C.Ed.'s avatarErnie's Musings

Torah ScrollSefad’s 500-Year-Old Torah Scroll

And like unto him was there no king before him, that turned to the LORD with all his heart … Notwithstanding the LORD turned not from the fierceness of his great wrath, wherewith his anger was kindled against Judah …  (2 Kings 23:25-26)

I hear many well-intentioned Christians exhorting us to pray for our nation and for our leaders. The call seems to have increased in intensity since the recent foolish ruling by the United States Supreme Court declaring same-sex marriage a constitutional right. Such a ruling places this nation in the death throes of social order described in Romans 1:32 “Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them.” At this juncture our nation finds itself near the bottom of the sucking vortex…

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My son and his roommate won a trip for two to the Islands at a college concert a number of years DSCF0861 033ago. They were excited as I drove them to the airport, laughing and contriving the fun they would have the next three days.
Conjured horror stories raced through my mind like the clickety-clack of an old steam engine, but with their new-found university maturity, any words of warning from me would slam into cement ears.
The attendant announced the boarding call. I hugged both young men and the words “Remember who you are,” popped outta my mouth. I caught my son’s gaze and repeated, “Son, remember who you are.”
They hurried down the airbridge, I’m sure eager to be free, and I turened to tuck myself in a quiet corner and watch their plane roar down the runway and life off. ‘Cause tears were already rimming my eyes.
An older gentleman, obviously watching and listening to our conversation, rose and stepped toward me. “Those were very wise words, ma’am.”
I stammered an acknowledgment, embarrassed, and certain he heard my mother’s words of fear screaming in my heart.
He tapped a salute to me with his folded newspaper. “Yes, wise words indeed.” He smiled and walked away.
Since that early morning flight, my prayers for my son ask God to remind him daily who he is. And remind my son who God is.
But what about sons who don’t know who they are? Sons who’ve never heard the Word of God? Sons who have no moral or faith based conscience? We’ve seen the answer to that scenario along the beaches in America during the 2015 spring break.
Yet why are we surprised, stupefied with the outrageous behavior exhibited by young people in HD, every night, on national news?
DSCF9127A grand majority of them have nothing of value to remember.
Saturated by a culture we’ve allowed to consume our children’s hearts, a culture we’ve accepted and confirmed by our actions or lack of actions, why should we expect a different outcome?
Think how hollow your life would have been had their been no lessons in the home of how to live a fulfilled and productive life. No correction given by your parents to change bad behavior. No Word from God teaching what He requires. Lessons, corrections, and Words adding flavor, value, and meaning to life—defining who you are.
Young people today, even yours and mine, have become self-centered, self-gratifying, oblivious to consequences. Young people who demand their right to be right in whatever they choose. Young people focused only on their moment in time. Denying. Deceived. And destroyed. No thought given to the consequences of their choices.
The message of 2 Peter shouts to us to remember, act, and stand firm.
Peter’s voice rings through the millennia: “I write to you, to stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance…”

What does Peter want us to remember?
“…that you should remember the words spoken beforehand by the holy prophets and the commandment of the Lord and Savior spoken by your apostles.”

Why would Peter address them in this manner? They were living in desperate times. The Roman government was confiscating property of Christians. The storm of hatred had overtaken them. Some Christians became human torches to light Nero’s highways. Others died in the arena. Ripped apart by hungry lions while thousands cheered.
Could Peter’s message be pertinent to us today? Sure looks that way, doesn’t it?
“Know this first of all, that in the last days mockers will come with their mocking, followingDSCF9133 after their own lusts, and saying, ‘Where is the promise of His coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all continues just as it was from the beginning of creation” (2 Peter 3:3-4 NAS).

In today’s vernacular they might say: I’ve heard this stuff all my life. All this hell, fire, and brimstone garbage. And what’s happened? Nothing. And nothing’s gonna happen. I can do what I want, when I want, and nobody’s gonna stop me. This God stuff’s a lie. Now get outta my face. I’m not interested. I don’t believe in your Jesus.
And your son or daughter might be the one who has said this to you.
Or perhaps you’re reading this and asking, If God’s so real why haven’t I seen Him or heard Him? Evolution makes perfect sense to me. There’s no divine plan, no divine creator. All the text books verify that’s truth. So it must be right. It can’t be both ways. We just need to learn to love everybody.
But Peter answers that too.
“For when they maintain this, it escapes their notice that by the word of God the heavens existed long ago and the earth was formed out of water and by water, through which the world at that time was destroyed, being flooded with water. But the present heavens and earth by His word are being reserved for fire, kept for the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men” (2 Peter 3:5-7 NAS).

We learn early in our lives to neutralize anything that makes us uncomfortable. Like Eve, many have listened to satan’s words—did God really say that? And they’ve fallen prey to the dragon’s old tricks. He blinds minds, causing them to refuse to believe God destroyed the whole world by the flood—a worldwide flood. A flood from which only Noah and his family survived. So they pervert the truth by reasoning it’s always been this way since creation.

No, at a point in time God said, “Enough!” And He wiped ‘em out. And promised us, next time I’m gonna take’ em out by fire.
Scoffer and mocker time is here folks. A wicked time. A storm gathering time. And if you saw the pictures on FaceBook, Tuesday of this week, depicting Jesus as a homosexual on the cross—A blasphemous time.

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But on one day certain, at one precise moment, God is going to say again, that’s it! I’m done! Son, go get my children. And all hell is going to break loose on this earth —for seven years.
Now is the time to remember who you are. Are you a child of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?
Or are you uncertain whose you are?
“Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of Me and of My words in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when He cometh in the glory of His Father with the holy angels” (Mark 8:38 KJV).

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