#bitten — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #bitten, aggregated by home.social.
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Und was am ersten Montag ganz überraschend gut funktioniert hat: #Bitten statt #Fürbitten. Die Möglichkeit, sich selbst für den Tag, für die Woche, für die Zeit etwas zu erbitten, wurde enorm eifrig genutzt, und die Leute haben an die Bitten anderer angeknüpft. Es war ausdrücklich gesagt, dass die Bitte auch still getan werden kann und dass wir dann nur ein Nicken oder so brauchen, damit wir alle „Komm, Herr #Jesus“ antworten. Aber es haben alle laut ihre Bitten ausgesprochen, die teils auch Fürbitten waren. Das war viel gelöster als ich es sonst erlebe, wenn zu eigenen Fürbitten aufgerufen wird.
2/3
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first woot and im covered in bite marks
wow! gee willikers! AAUUGGHHHH!!‼️‼️
#bitten #zombie #virus #zombification?? -
Die Situation ist bekannt: „Ich habe doch drum gebeten und Gott hat mir meine Bitte nicht erfüllt.“
Und dann heißt es im Evangelium-Text so lapidar: „Sollte Gott seinen Auserwählten, die Tag und Nacht zu ihm schreien, nicht zu ihrem Recht verhelfen, sondern bei ihnen zögern? Ich sage euch: Er wird ihnen unverzüglich ihr Recht verschaffen.“ (Lk, 18, 7-8a)
https://oratorium-leipzig.de/schriftbetrachtung-zum-thema-bitten/
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Have not been #Bitten all #Summer by anything, but now that the swimming pool outside the next tower has been covered by a tarp, the #Mosquitos are out and about.
That means both my feet are covered by bites, I counted over 12 this morning.So, out come the #Citronella #Candles and #Stickers on clothes, a fresh scent in the air that here in #Spain means #Autumn for me and the wife.
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Sommerferien in Sent (9)
Auch das Dörflein S-Charl hat einen ganz bestimmten Charme: Grössere und kleinere Engadinerhäuser gibt es da, eine Herberge aus früheren Zeiten, als die Säumer durch das Val S-Charl vom Engadin ins Münstertal zogen. Zwei Restaurants für die Touristen. Eine pittoreske kleine Kirche.
In dieser Kirche wollten wir noch etwas verweilen; bis das Postauto käme, blieb uns noch etwas Zeit. Es fiel auf: Hier wurde tatsächlich – wenn auch nicht jede Woche – noch Gottesdienst gefeiert. Es hatte Elemente, die darauf schliessen liessen, aber auch solche, die zeigten, dass man für spirituell interessierte Touristen offen war: Eine Bibel – selbstverständlich in Rätoromanisch verfasst – lag auf dem Taufstein, ein Gästebuch mit der Möglichkeit, Dankesworte und Bitten aufzischreiben, auf dem Fenstersims.
In den verschiedenen Landessprachen gibt es schlichte, mit einfacher schwarzer Schrift auf weissem Grund gehaltene Kärtchen im Format A7, auf denen Bibelsprüche abgedruckt sind. Naheliegend, dass diese auch hier in der Sprache der Einheimischen zu finden waren.
Spannend, wie fremd mir eigentlich bekannte Bibelsprüche plötzlich tönten …
#bekannt #Bibel #Bibelsprüche #Bitten #Charme #Dankesworte #Dörflein #Engadin #fremd #Gästebuch #Gottesdienst #Herberge #Kärtchen #Kirche #Rätoromanisch #Restaurant #SCharl #Säumer #Sent #Sommerferien #spirituell #verweilen
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Fantasy. Paranormal Romance. Werewolves.
#bitten #kelleyarmstrong #paranormalromance #fantasy #werewolves #womenoftheotherworld #newpurchase #midureads #bookstagram
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Auckland Botanic Garden dog attack: Woman bitten by off-leash dog, owners allegedly flee scene https://www.allforgardening.com/1319170/auckland-botanic-garden-dog-attack-woman-bitten-by-off-leash-dog-owners-allegedly-flee-scene/ #after #allegedly #Attack #Auckland #aucklands #bitten #Botanic #by #dog #flee #garden #gardens #Injured #offleash #Owners #scene #woman
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Auckland Botanic Garden dog attack: Woman bitten by off-leash dog, owners allegedly flee scene https://www.allforgardening.com/1319170/auckland-botanic-garden-dog-attack-woman-bitten-by-off-leash-dog-owners-allegedly-flee-scene/ #after #allegedly #Attack #Auckland #aucklands #bitten #Botanic #by #dog #flee #garden #gardens #Injured #offleash #Owners #scene #woman
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Janna and I made a pilgrimage to Happy Jack Mountain near North Loup and Scotia, Nebraska this summer. Okay, maybe Happy Jack is more hill than a mountain, but because Nebraska (Otoe for “Flat Water”) is pretty dang flat, any rolling hill easily becomes a mountainous monument in memory. Happy Jack sits over the chalk mines below, and we’ll get to that wonder of the valley in a future article. The goal of us trekking up Happy Jack — me, for the second time, and for Janna, first — was to land in front of a giant, wooden cross atop the mountain. Easter services are held under the cross every year, but my question, now as an aged, and somewhat wizened 59-year-old man-child was, and still is, this: WHO IS CLIMBING HAPPY JACK MOUNTAIN ON EASTER MORNING? (the threat of dying is palpably real!)
Oh, I was full of hubris on a hot and painfully humid summer morning in July as I scoped out the “newfangled” way up Happy Jack. Yes, the old “railroad tie” steps were no longer the way of the day and these fancy steps were supposed to lead us up the new stairway to heaven. When we got to the top of these stairs, there was no path! No way up!
This looked to be the backend, backdoor, cheater way, to scale the mountain, and we also didn’t want to risk getting lost. We decided to find the formerly familiar historical railroad tie markers of 50 years ago.
We ambled on over to the opposite way up that I remembered as a nine-year-old. We decided to remain “Olde Skool” and took up the old memory path.
A path, that turned out, was ill-cared for, crumbling, scary, unsteady and, like, really super old like us. Oh, the woe before us befell us!
Once you start up a path you recognize, and then regret it, you are forced to quietly admit there is no turning back! The mosquitos in the valley of the mountain were ravenous, and the way up was difficult to navigate.
The old railroad ties of yore had pretty much disappeared by both age and time. I tripped several times on the way up and I tripped on almost every step on the way down! Clunk!
Yes, I was breathless because of the climb, the heat and the humidity (and, later, I learned I was having an allergic reaction from at least 30 bites from various buggy/spidery critters on the way up that dramatically lifted my heart rate! Bites that took more than 10 days to heal!) — and yet, I was still awed by the breathtaking beauty of the Loup valley. You could even hear the bubbling river!
The cows were also just — right there! — ready to be greeted and celebrated, even zoomed in from afar!
Nebraska is where the land meets the sky, and where the water drinks the pipes — and where the horizon becomes us — all fully in evidence from the vista slopes of Happy Jack Mountain!
As we (me, really, Janna was fine) dragged our way up to the final tippy top of the mountain, I immediately recognized the weather-beaten and ill-aged (aren’t we all?!) reclamation marker I remembered from my last climb half a century ago.
And, so we reached the top of where we ended. We found the peak of our experience. Sharing, and drenched in sweat. Bugs Bitten. Struggling to breathe. Oh, yes, the 50-year revisitation was upon us, completing us; and we humbly accepted our small place in the wide, flat, world around us.
We made it!
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https://bolesblogs.com/2024/09/12/2024-return-to-happy-jack-mountain/
#bitten #cows #happyJack #heart #land #mosquitos #mountain #northLoup #river #scotia #stairs #wood
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Janna and I made a pilgrimage to Happy Jack Mountain near North Loup and Scotia, Nebraska this summer. Okay, maybe Happy Jack is more hill than a mountain, but because Nebraska (Otoe for “Flat Water”) is pretty dang flat, any rolling hill easily becomes a mountainous monument in memory. Happy Jack sits over the chalk mines below, and we’ll get to that wonder of the valley in a future article. The goal of us trekking up Happy Jack — me, for the second time, and for Janna, first — was to land in front of a giant, wooden cross atop the mountain. Easter services are held under the cross every year, but my question, now as an aged, and somewhat wizened 59-year-old man-child was, and still is, this: WHO IS CLIMBING HAPPY JACK MOUNTAIN ON EASTER MORNING? (the threat of dying is palpably real!)
Oh, I was full of hubris on a hot and painfully humid summer morning in July as I scoped out the “newfangled” way up Happy Jack. Yes, the old “railroad tie” steps were no longer the way of the day and these fancy steps were supposed to lead us up the new stairway to heaven. When we got to the top of these stairs, there was no path! No way up!
This looked to be the backend, backdoor, cheater way, to scale the mountain, and we also didn’t want to risk getting lost. We decided to find the formerly familiar historical railroad tie markers of 50 years ago.
We ambled on over to the opposite way up that I remembered as a nine-year-old. We decided to remain “Olde Skool” and took up the old memory path.
A path, that turned out, was ill-cared for, crumbling, scary, unsteady and, like, really super old like us. Oh, the woe before us befell us!
Once you start up a path you recognize, and then regret it, you are forced to quietly admit there is no turning back! The mosquitos in the valley of the mountain were ravenous, and the way up was difficult to navigate.
The old railroad ties of yore had pretty much disappeared by both age and time. I tripped several times on the way up and I tripped on almost every step on the way down! Clunk!
Yes, I was breathless because of the climb, the heat and the humidity (and, later, I learned I was having an allergic reaction from at least 30 bites from various buggy/spidery critters on the way up that dramatically lifted my heart rate! Bites that took more than 10 days to heal!) — and yet, I was still awed by the breathtaking beauty of the Loup valley. You could even hear the bubbling river!
The cows were also just — right there! — ready to be greeted and celebrated, even zoomed in from afar!
Nebraska is where the land meets the sky, and where the water drinks the pipes — and where the horizon becomes us — all fully in evidence from the vista slopes of Happy Jack Mountain!
As we (me, really, Janna was fine) dragged our way up to the final tippy top of the mountain, I immediately recognized the weather-beaten and ill-aged (aren’t we all?!) reclamation marker I remembered from my last climb half a century ago.
And, so we reached the top of where we ended. We found the peak of our experience. Sharing, and drenched in sweat. Bugs Bitten. Struggling to breathe. Oh, yes, the 50-year revisitation was upon us, completing us; and we humbly accepted our small place in the wide, flat, world around us.
We made it!
https://bolesblogs.com/2024/09/12/2024-return-to-happy-jack-mountain/
#bitten #cows #happyJack #heart #land #mosquitos #mountain #northLoup #river #scotia #stairs #wood
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Janna and I made a pilgrimage to Happy Jack Mountain near North Loup and Scotia, Nebraska this summer. Okay, maybe Happy Jack is more hill than a mountain, but because Nebraska (Otoe for “Flat Water”) is pretty dang flat, any rolling hill easily becomes a mountainous monument in memory. Happy Jack sits over the chalk mines below, and we’ll get to that wonder of the valley in a future article. The goal of us trekking up Happy Jack — me, for the second time, and for Janna, first — was to land in front of a giant, wooden cross atop the mountain. Easter services are held under the cross every year, but my question, now as an aged, and somewhat wizened 59-year-old man-child was, and still is, this: WHO IS CLIMBING HAPPY JACK MOUNTAIN ON EASTER MORNING? (the threat of dying is palpably real!)
Oh, I was full of hubris on a hot and painfully humid summer morning in July as I scoped out the “newfangled” way up Happy Jack. Yes, the old “railroad tie” steps were no longer the way of the day and these fancy steps were supposed to lead us up the new stairway to heaven. When we got to the top of these stairs, there was no path! No way up!
This looked to be the backend, backdoor, cheater way, to scale the mountain, and we also didn’t want to risk getting lost. We decided to find the formerly familiar historical railroad tie markers of 50 years ago.
We ambled on over to the opposite way up that I remembered as a nine-year-old. We decided to remain “Olde Skool” and took up the old memory path.
A path, that turned out, was ill-cared for, crumbling, scary, unsteady and, like, really super old like us. Oh, the woe before us befell us!
Once you start up a path you recognize, and then regret it, you are forced to quietly admit there is no turning back! The mosquitos in the valley of the mountain were ravenous, and the way up was difficult to navigate.
The old railroad ties of yore had pretty much disappeared by both age and time. I tripped several times on the way up and I tripped on almost every step on the way down! Clunk!
Yes, I was breathless because of the climb, the heat and the humidity (and, later, I learned I was having an allergic reaction from at least 30 bites from various buggy/spidery critters on the way up that dramatically lifted my heart rate! Bites that took more than 10 days to heal!) — and yet, I was still awed by the breathtaking beauty of the Loup valley. You could even hear the bubbling river!
The cows were also just — right there! — ready to be greeted and celebrated, even zoomed in from afar!
Nebraska is where the land meets the sky, and where the water drinks the pipes — and where the horizon becomes us — all fully in evidence from the vista slopes of Happy Jack Mountain!
As we (me, really, Janna was fine) dragged our way up to the final tippy top of the mountain, I immediately recognized the weather-beaten and ill-aged (aren’t we all?!) reclamation marker I remembered from my last climb half a century ago.
And, so we reached the top of where we ended. We found the peak of our experience. Sharing, and drenched in sweat. Bugs Bitten. Struggling to breathe. Oh, yes, the 50-year revisitation was upon us, completing us; and we humbly accepted our small place in the wide, flat, world around us.
We made it!
https://bolesblogs.com/2024/09/12/2024-return-to-happy-jack-mountain/
#bitten #cows #happyJack #heart #land #mosquitos #mountain #northLoup #river #scotia #stairs #wood
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Janna and I made a pilgrimage to Happy Jack Mountain near North Loup and Scotia, Nebraska this summer. Okay, maybe Happy Jack is more hill than a mountain, but because Nebraska (Otoe for “Flat Water”) is pretty dang flat, any rolling hill easily becomes a mountainous monument in memory. Happy Jack sits over the chalk mines below, and we’ll get to that wonder of the valley in a future article. The goal of us trekking up Happy Jack — me, for the second time, and for Janna, first — was to land in front of a giant, wooden cross atop the mountain. Easter services are held under the cross every year, but my question, now as an aged, and somewhat wizened 59-year-old man-child was, and still is, this: WHO IS CLIMBING HAPPY JACK MOUNTAIN ON EASTER MORNING? (the threat of dying is palpably real!)
Oh, I was full of hubris on a hot and painfully humid summer morning in July as I scoped out the “newfangled” way up Happy Jack. Yes, the old “railroad tie” steps were no longer the way of the day and these fancy steps were supposed to lead us up the new stairway to heaven. When we got to the top of these stairs, there was no path! No way up!
This looked to be the backend, backdoor, cheater way, to scale the mountain, and we also didn’t want to risk getting lost. We decided to find the formerly familiar historical railroad tie markers of 50 years ago.
We ambled on over to the opposite way up that I remembered as a nine-year-old. We decided to remain “Olde Skool” and took up the old memory path.
A path, that turned out, was ill-cared for, crumbling, scary, unsteady and, like, really super old like us. Oh, the woe before us befell us!
Once you start up a path you recognize, and then regret it, you are forced to quietly admit there is no turning back! The mosquitos in the valley of the mountain were ravenous, and the way up was difficult to navigate.
The old railroad ties of yore had pretty much disappeared by both age and time. I tripped several times on the way up and I tripped on almost every step on the way down! Clunk!
Yes, I was breathless because of the climb, the heat and the humidity (and, later, I learned I was having an allergic reaction from at least 30 bites from various buggy/spidery critters on the way up that dramatically lifted my heart rate! Bites that took more than 10 days to heal!) — and yet, I was still awed by the breathtaking beauty of the Loup valley. You could even hear the bubbling river!
The cows were also just — right there! — ready to be greeted and celebrated, even zoomed in from afar!
Nebraska is where the land meets the sky, and where the water drinks the pipes — and where the horizon becomes us — all fully in evidence from the vista slopes of Happy Jack Mountain!
As we (me, really, Janna was fine) dragged our way up to the final tippy top of the mountain, I immediately recognized the weather-beaten and ill-aged (aren’t we all?!) reclamation marker I remembered from my last climb half a century ago.
And, so we reached the top of where we ended. We found the peak of our experience. Sharing, and drenched in sweat. Bugs Bitten. Struggling to breathe. Oh, yes, the 50-year revisitation was upon us, completing us; and we humbly accepted our small place in the wide, flat, world around us.
We made it!
https://bolesblogs.com/2024/09/12/2024-return-to-happy-jack-mountain/
#bitten #cows #happyJack #heart #land #mosquitos #mountain #northLoup #river #scotia #stairs #wood
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Janna and I made a pilgrimage to Happy Jack Mountain near North Loup and Scotia, Nebraska this summer. Okay, maybe Happy Jack is more hill than a mountain, but because Nebraska (Otoe for “Flat Water”) is pretty dang flat, any rolling hill easily becomes a mountainous monument in memory. Happy Jack sits over the chalk mines below, and we’ll get to that wonder of the valley in a future article. The goal of us trekking up Happy Jack — me, for the second time, and for Janna, first — was to land in front of a giant, wooden cross atop the mountain. Easter services are held under the cross every year, but my question, now as an aged, and somewhat wizened 59-year-old man-child was, and still is, this: WHO IS CLIMBING HAPPY JACK MOUNTAIN ON EASTER MORNING? (the threat of dying is palpably real!)
Oh, I was full of hubris on a hot and painfully humid summer morning in July as I scoped out the “newfangled” way up Happy Jack. Yes, the old “railroad tie” steps were no longer the way of the day and these fancy steps were supposed to lead us up the new stairway to heaven. When we got to the top of these stairs, there was no path! No way up!
This looked to be the backend, backdoor, cheater way, to scale the mountain, and we also didn’t want to risk getting lost. We decided to find the formerly familiar historical railroad tie markers of 50 years ago.
We ambled on over to the opposite way up that I remembered as a nine-year-old. We decided to remain “Olde Skool” and took up the old memory path.
A path, that turned out, was ill-cared for, crumbling, scary, unsteady and, like, really super old like us. Oh, the woe before us befell us!
Once you start up a path you recognize, and then regret it, you are forced to quietly admit there is no turning back! The mosquitos in the valley of the mountain were ravenous, and the way up was difficult to navigate.
The old railroad ties of yore had pretty much disappeared by both age and time. I tripped several times on the way up and I tripped on almost every step on the way down! Clunk!
Yes, I was breathless because of the climb, the heat and the humidity (and, later, I learned I was having an allergic reaction from at least 30 bites from various buggy/spidery critters on the way up that dramatically lifted my heart rate! Bites that took more than 10 days to heal!) — and yet, I was still awed by the breathtaking beauty of the Loup valley. You could even hear the bubbling river!
The cows were also just — right there! — ready to be greeted and celebrated, even zoomed in from afar!
Nebraska is where the land meets the sky, and where the water drinks the pipes — and where the horizon becomes us — all fully in evidence from the vista slopes of Happy Jack Mountain!
As we (me, really, Janna was fine) dragged our way up to the final tippy top of the mountain, I immediately recognized the weather-beaten and ill-aged (aren’t we all?!) reclamation marker I remembered from my last climb half a century ago.
And, so we reached the top of where we ended. We found the peak of our experience. Sharing, and drenched in sweat. Bugs Bitten. Struggling to breathe. Oh, yes, the 50-year revisitation was upon us, completing us; and we humbly accepted our small place in the wide, flat, world around us.
We made it!
https://bolesblogs.com/2024/09/12/2024-return-to-happy-jack-mountain/
#bitten #cows #happyJack #heart #land #mosquitos #mountain #northLoup #river #scotia #stairs #wood
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Oh, also...
I've lived on the #Canadian #prairies for the last 32 of my mumbledy-dum years, and yet I was today years old when I learned that Black Widow #spiders are native here.
My neighbour showed me where he was #bitten on his leg - he disturbed a #web around his compost bin. Nasty and painful. And he didn't get any #superpowers out of it, either.
How did I get this old without knowing we had them here?
@pzmyers - was a male for Lolth in today's shipment?
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Machtkämpfe in Beziehungen - Persönlich bedeutsam bleiben
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qu6wc84cm20
#Einfluss #Belohnen #Bestrafen #PersönlicheBedeutsamkeit #PersönlicheWichtigkeit #Bitten #Liebe
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Machtkämpfe in Beziehungen - Persönlich bedeutsam bleiben
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qu6wc84cm20
#Einfluss #Belohnen #Bestrafen #PersönlicheBedeutsamkeit #PersönlicheWichtigkeit #Bitten #Liebe
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#BITTEN
Gepriesen sei Gott, der Vater, der seinen Sohn dahingegeben hat für die Sünde der Welt. Zu ihm lasst uns beten:R Höre unser Gebet.
Du bist der Urheber des Lebens;
- schenke uns in deinem Sohn das neue Leben.Hilf uns, dem Bösen zu widerstehen
- und rein und wahr vor dir zu leben.Mach weit unser Herz,
- damit wir helfen, wo es not tut.Lass den Samen des Wortes in uns aufgehen;
- hilf uns, nach dem Evangelium zu leben.
#laudes #morgengebet #gebet #fürbitte -
Du hast Sünde und Tod bezwungen;
- hilf uns, dem Bösen zu widerstehen.R: Christus, unser Leben, rette uns.
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#Falschinformationen von der #SZ schon in der #Überschrift, langsam gehen der #Prohibition die #Lügen aus und der #Betrug #wird #immer #offensichtlicher. Bald wird man die #Opfer der perfiden #Prohibitions-#Verbrechen um #Verzeihung #bitten #müssen und die #Täter dieses #Jahrhundert-#Missbrauchs zur #Verantwortung ziehen. Es ist ein #Machtkampf, den die #Faschisten gewinnen wollen!
#Cannabis-#Legalisierung: Die #EU versucht, die #Deutschen für dumm zu verkaufen
https://www.sueddeutsche.de/meinung/cannabis-eu-deutschland-legalisierung-kommentar-1.5721134?reduced=true [paywall]