A Housewife's Place

I recently noticed a "Morning Litany" found in Dr Korby's files. Here's one of the sections:

On all going out to work;
On all whose labor brings them into danger;
On all who will meet temptation;
On all who can find no employment;
On all children at home or at school;
On all who keep house;
And on all Christian homes:
SEND THY BLESSING, O LORD.


My first thought was "Yes, this is a good prayer. Send Thy blessing, O Lord. Amen."

My second thought was to notice that the housewife's work was included right in there with the employees, the unemployed, the students, and those doing dangerous work. I'm trying to remember how often we see such petitions today. In the Great Litany, we do pray for mothers of young children. But when do we pray for housewives? Do we pray for them in the keeping of their homes, even if they do not yet have children or if their children are grown? Yes, what they do is important too (even if unrecognized in a consumeristic society), and we ought to pray for them.

Their Eyes Were Restrained

I didn't recognize my son. My own son. It's shameful.

Paul had asked off for what he thought was Easter weekend. Classes were canceled. He didn't have to work at school, seeing as how Bethany shut down for those most holy days so that students and employees could worship. But he accidentally asked off from his restaurant job on the wrong days. Okay, so he wouldn't come home for Easter. Okay. Sad, but that's the way it goes.

Good Friday, after church, I was taking a quick look at Facebook and email while wolfing down some calories before bed. And in walks this guy. This guy I didn't recognize, and yet did, but didn't. My first thought was that it was my son-in-law Matt. But that wasn't right. And where was Rachel anyway? And the voice wasn't right. So my brain is rapidly rifling through possibilities. My second thought was my son Philip. But he had told us he was spending Thursday night and Saturday night with us -- not Friday night. And then it finally clicked. It's PAUL. No, it's not -- Paul isn't coming home. Yes, it is Paul! Nooooo....

Okay, this all transpired in the space of about 2.4 seconds. But the blankness in my eyes when I looked at my own son and didn't recognize him, right here, standing in my own kitchen ... that stabs my heart.

And yet, it shows how very strongly what we believe affects what we see. We think our eyes are objective: "I'll believe it when I see it." But it's not so cut-&-dried. I believed that Paul was in Mankato for the weekend. My eyes showed me he was standing before me. What I believed overruled what I objectively saw. (He explained soon enough that he found a substitute to take his shifts at the restaurant and scooted away as quick as he could.)

The Emmaus disciples' eyes were restrained on Easter afternoon. It wasn't "magic" that Jesus did to prevent them from recognizing. It wasn't some shape-shifting thing connected to His having a glorified, resurrected body. His disciples didn't recognize Him because they believed He was dead, in a tomb, rotting as corpses are wont to do.

Unbelief is a powerful blindness,
overwhelming even objective evidence.
And it's embarrassing that I understand that.

Andrew's Job

When Andrew gave notice to his boss that he'd be quitting in a few weeks because of beginning his college classes, the response was, "Nooooooo. You can't quit! We won't let you."

I think that means he's a valuable employee.
That's mighty nice to hear!


(Gary and I wish he didn't have to quit. We really like it when Andrew is forced to bring home a pizza that somebody ordered but failed to pick up.)

Psalm 7

If there is iniquity in my hands,
if I have repaid evil to him who was at peace with me,
or have plundered my enemy without cause,
let the enemy pursue me and overtake me;
yes, let him trample my life to the earth,
and lay my honor in the dust.

Does it seem odd to you that we sometimes pray words like these in the psalms as if we are entirely innocent, and we're being picked-on unjustly (which might possibly be true in the civil realm), and it's time for God to straighten things out? Unlike us, however, Jesus really could say that He was innocent and didn't deserve the enemies to be picking on Him.

And yet ...

He made Him who knew no sin to BE sin for us.
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him.

So these words from Psalm 7 really were Jesus' words. "If I have done evil" (for our evil deeds were imputed to Him so that He might bear the guilt of them) "then let the enemy destroy Me."

He was willing.
He was willing to be overtaken, trampled, and dishonored.
He was willing,
so that God would judge us according to Jesus' righteousness.

Mansions

Have you ever had need of a mansion? Have you ever gone shopping for a mansion?

John 14 is translated in a variety of ways. NKJV records Jesus' saying, "In My Father's house are many mansions." NASB says there are many dwelling places. ESV (which is in our funeral rite) says "many rooms." For the last few years, my pastor has been making sure to point out that "many mansions" is not about opulence and luxury. He says the word is better translated as "rooms" or "dwelling places." He says that the word "mansion" conjures up images of a humongous place where we rattle around, lonely.

I guess, when you think of the McMansions built in the 1990's and the first decade of this century, yup, there is a lot of emptiness in our idea of mansions. So many people have big houses and big yards, but are never there, living in those huge houses. And these big houses are often home to just a few people, with each kid having his own 18x25' bedroom.

But when I think of mansion-shopping, I think of hunting up a 16-bedroom house for a family reunion. That's the point of a mansion! You want to find a place big enough to cram everybody in. That way you can eat together, visit, play cards, play Apples-to-Apples, find somebody to go swimming with, and just generally revel in the company of your beloved family.

I guess that's exactly what Pastor's trying to get across when he brings up the topic of "mansions." It's about being in community, being made in the image of God, giving and receiving love. And conversation. And meals.

Indoor People and Outdoor People

Some people love to be outdoors. My friend Karin wants to spend her whole summer outdoors and not come in. Last year, one of her kids lived outdoors for practically the whole summer.

I tend to be an indoor person, even though I know it's not good for me. I feel better when I go outside to exercise or work in the garden, or even just to sit and do schoolwork with the kids on the deck. I'm both physically and mentally stronger when I spend more time outside.

So why is it so hard to kick myself outdoors? If I enjoy going for a walk, why don't I do it? If it's uplifting to go pull weeds out of the garden, why not do it? Why does the indoor work always seem more important and pressing?

Vicar

In our church body, the term "vicar" is used for seminary students who are doing their year of internship under the guidance of a pastor. Those of us who watch BBC or read British literature have heard the term "vicar" used for the guy we Americans might call "pastor" or "bishop" or "minister" or "priest" or "father" or "clergyman."

In the Lutheran church, we are also likely to run across the term "vicarious atonement" with great frequency. So we know that "vicarious" means "in the place of" or "substitutionary."

I didn't realize until this week that "vicar" is the same word as "vicarious." Sure, one's a noun and one's an adjective, but it's the same word. The pastor says, "In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins." And we sing, "When ministers lay on their hands, absolved by Christ the sinner stands." Jesus says to the pastors, "He who hears you hears Me."

VICAR is a very good word for who a pastor is and what he is called to be and do.

Doctors

Andrew has proven to the government that he does not have tuberculosis. He is caught up on his government-mandated-suggested vaccinations. Thus he is not a public-health nuisance and will be allowed to start his CNA class next month.

Maggie saw a new osteopath yesterday. (The one we like very much is no longer covered by insurance.) Going to new D.O.'s and new chiropractors is hard: they ask me what needs to be done. I want to holler, "You're the doctor. You're the one with the training. Just make this person's back straight." There must be a lot of different ways to accomplish that -- and at different speeds. Maggie's visit yesterday took a lot longer than expected. I always forget that new doctors need a health history (whether it's relevant to why we're seeing them or not), and Maggie's health history isn't speedy to record. Good news: her x-rays yesterday for the scoliosis (first ones in five years) still showed only a mild curvature.

Maggie saw an immunologist today. It seemed like most of the long visit was filling in the nurse-practitioner on previous test results, surgeries, Mag's manifestations of vcfs, and this winter's illness. I don't know how many vials of blood they drew for the labwork, but the nurse told Maggie that --no matter what it looked like-- they weren't taking ALL her blood today. They will be looking at T-cell and B-cell counts and function, thyroid levels, endocrine levels, calcium levels, and checking to see if this winter's low platelet count has changed. They checked Maggie for asthma too; she seems to show a not-too-serious problem in her left lung where she had the post-surgery collapse and where the doctor thought she might be developing pneumonia this winter. Before helping Maggie figure out what she might do for a living or what kind of training she might need for a job, we figured we needed to find out about her immune system and how it will affect her health and strength and ability to hold down a job ... and whether working with kids or in a school would be too risky for her health.

The immunologist today told us that Maggie's facial features for 22.q.11-deletion are fairly mild. She also gave me a little speech about how we should call it 22.q.11-deletion syndrome instead of VCFS. Hmmm ... can you say "12 syllables versus 4 syllables"??? Yesterday I had to instruct the doctor on what VCFS is, and today I had to instruct the nurse practitioner on what homeschooling is and where we get our diploma and how this affects the services the State/school offers to special-ed students. (Rumor has it that some people go to the doctor and don't have to teach the doctors things. Wouldn't that be weird?)

We have a dentist visit in two weeks. He will give us the prescription for the oral surgery to have Maggie's wisdom teeth removed.

Nathan's doctor visit today confirmed what's been causing his knee problems/pain for many years. The tear in his knee can be repaired. So that's good news too.

Katie's Arm

My mom told the story of when she and my sister-in-law were Christmas shopping when my daughter Katie was 10 or 12. They ran across a very cheap deal on a hooked-rug kit. Mom wondered if this would make a good Christmas present for Katie; Tina too questioned the wisdom of a latch-hook rug for Katie. Turned out, though, that Mom was worried about a dust-catcher for an asthmatic child, whereas Tina wasn't sure whether Katie could DO latch-hooking. Mom was taken aback at first. Why wouldn't Katie be able to do latch-hook? Well, because of her arm, Aunt Tina wondered. (Tina was still kind of new to the family at that point.)

You see, Katie was born with only half her left arm. No hand on that side, although you can see the little dents and shapes on the end of her left arm where the hand and fingers would have developed. I often forget that people here don't know if her missing arm was from an accident or a birth defect. She was only 3 when we moved to our former home and church and met all our homeschooling friends there. But now, with Katie being an adult, people are polite and don't ask the questions that were easy to ask when she was a wee one.

It's hard for us to remember that some people see Katie as handicapped. We have all sorts of stories about her abilities. Of all our kids, she was the one who learned to unscrew jar lids, work snaps and zippers, and unbutton buttons at the youngest age.

There was the story of meeting some new homeschoolers at a state conference. They lived only 20 minutes away, and we spent hours with them on the weekend of the conference and several shorter visits at home. Later, we were planning another get-together. The morning before they came over to play, Abbey (the friend) said something about Katie's only having one arm. The mom told her kids to knock off the stupid stories. WHY would they make up something so outlandish??? The kids argued: "But, Mom, she DOES only have one arm." "That's silly. I've seen her. She's not missing an arm." When they arrived, the kids made sure to point out to Mom Katie's left arm. Even then, the mom didn't believe Katie had one arm: there she was, sweeping out the garage. "Mom! Look again!" Wow. She really does have only half an arm on that side! But she can do everything. You'd never notice the kid is handicapped! Indeed.

Here's another funny story that Katie told me about her paper route one day. She said she reached into her bag to pull out a paper to toss onto a porch. It slipped out of her hand. She reached in again, and again missed grabbing the paper. On her third failed attempt to yank a paper out of her carrier-bag, she realized why she couldn't pick up the paper. She was using her left arm. Well, I figure if SHE could momentarily forget that she didn't have a hand on that arm, then I can't be scolded for the times I forget she has only one.

Long before we moved here, Kantor was trying to figure out one day which kids were mine. He didn't seem them often. I was trying to describe Katie by hair color and length, height, build, prettiness, glasses, and whatever other identifying markers I could think of. Finally it crossed my mind to say, "Oh, she's the one missing her left arm." Oh! Of course! Then he knew right away which kid I meant. But he said he felt like a jerk for having that be the thing by which he finally identified her, and he heckled me for not using "one-armed" as the first thing to describe her. Sorry, but Katie's lack-of-arm is such a complete non-issue that I forget that other people might notice it.

Although Katie has run into a few things as a mom that are a little harder with one arm [much harder to multi-task: nursing a baby, reading to a toddler, and making supper all at the same time] I think Katie's biggest "handicap" is in how other people see her. When she went job-hunting the first time, employers didn't see her. They saw a big fat emptiness where her hand was supposed to have been. I wish I could say "their loss." (And that would be true.) But it's also hard for a person to overcome the manager's First Impression, and thus not be given the chance to show how very capable she is.

The End of the World

1. Somebody at work asked me on Friday if I believed the world would end on Saturday. Seriously? I wonder if she asked because I'm a pastor's wife and because I spend my breaks at work editing theology books and introits.

2. People at the store on Saturday evening were joking about the end of the world not coming. I also heard loads of talk from radio DJ's on Friday at work. (I prefer for the radio to be off at work, but usually the people I work with turn it on.) It sounds to me like people didn't believe the end of the world was coming .... but .... maybe ... just in case .... they were going to have a party on Friday night to enjoy their last fling ... just on the off-chance that the end really was imminent.

3. The media coverage is unfair to the followers of the false prophet in one big way. They expect people to be fearful of the end of the world. They write about people who spent all their money before The End so that they could enjoy it while they still had a chance. There's just no comprehension that some of us (even us mainstream normal Christians) believe the real enjoyment comes after the end of the world, and we look forward to it.


Lift up your heads, for your redemption draws near (Luke 21).

Stay-at-Home Mom versus Working Woman

Twenty-eight years as a stay-at-home mom. Granted, there was some babysitting, some maid work, some typing stints, and other mini-jobs. But still, I was a stay-at-home mom.

Big change this past winter -- starting a half-time job. Several of the customers and co-workers seemed leery of my abilities. After all, I hadn't worked for a long time. A stay-at-home mom? What did I know?

Yes, it took a while to learn the job and become adept. But the tasks became routine, and my speed increased, and I got to know the customers. Granted, there's a lot yet to learn: they haven't even tried to teach me how to service the ATM machine or run all the paperwork to balance our branch's paper-trails.

I have this to say:

BEING A MOM
IS A LOT HARDER
THAN HAVING A JOB.

A lot harder.
Seriously.

A job is lightweight. Lives do not depend on it. Formation of brains do not depend on it (even if your job is being a teacher). The life-long foundations of physical health do not depend on a person's job. Other people's soul and psyche are not being shaped by what we do in our paid jobs. Unless you're a pastor, what you do in your job probably does not have profound impact on people's eternal life or death.

But all these important things are part of a mommy's work. A mom is never done. A mom never knows exactly what the right thing to do is; it's not a black-and-white job. A mom's job is always in a state of flux. A mommy's job is not merely full-time, but 24/7. Moms do not have the satisfaction of seeing results of their work at the end of the day ... they have to wait 15-20 years to get an idea of the results of their work ... and even then the "success" of their efforts won't be seen clearly for another couple of decades.

Going to work has the reward of a paycheck. It rewards you with social acceptability. It rewards you with adult conversation. In so many ways, a job is easy-breezy compared to mommyhood.

But there is nothing as precious, as dear, as rewarding, as being with those dear children who are your delight! It may be way harder to be a mom, but it's the best job ever.

Naomi, DoRena, Heidi, Katie, Liz, Rebecca, and all you others -- don't let anybody (including yourself) convince you that your job isn't that big a deal. It's hard work. It's probably the hardest thing you'll ever do. The wonder of love is that you WANT to do it and you ENJOY it ... at least most of the time. :-)

Dawn Treader

Maggie was coughing when the movie came out -- coughing too much to take her to a theatre and interrupt others' viewing. So we waited for her to get better. But she was sick for SO long this winter that we never made it to the theatre for this winter's Narnia movie.

Last night we watched the dvd.

Now I'm glad we didn't pay for movie tickets.

If you think Narnia is about fantasy and adventure, then this wasn't too bad a movie. Sure, sure, they totally messed up the book. But some people don't mind producers freely adjusting the book for the video version. And some people don't know the book anyway. The effects were great. I loved the water pouring out of the picture frame. I loved the dragon. I loved the star. And Eustace's acting was superb; he started out as the most despicable little creature. Oh, and there were funny parts!

But ...

the reason I love Dawn Treader is the theology. I love how the book brings in Christian vocation. I love how they face trials and fears, and Aslan rescues them. I love Reepicheep's fervant hope for Aslan's country. But mostly I love baptism, and how Eustace is brought to recognize his sin, and Aslan tears away his Old Adam and makes him a New Man.

The video is stripped of its theology. If that was all that was wrong with the movie, even that would be okay. But the message that replaced the Christian theology was a works-righteous theology, where we earn what we get by trying hard to be good and brave and upstanding. The Aslan in this movie is not the Aslan I love, the one on whom my hope rests. This movie is just a story. And if that's all you want from a movie, it's okay. But if you expect Narnia ... and a story of Jesus and His love for you ... then Dawn Treader is a huge disappointment.

Today's Laugh

Andrew and I were listening to our history tapes. We're studying World War I right now, from a series that is full of primary sources. This quote is taken from a letter home, written by a US private about life on the front in France; he and his fellow-soldiers were living in a cave where they slept by day and came out to fight by night.


We have a little church in our cave. On Sundays the chaplain holds service and passes out cigarettes to us.


When I heard "and passes out ..." I expected the next words to be something about "the Lord's Supper" or maybe "little psalters" or "copies of the New Testament." The last thing I anticipated was "cigarettes." Am I totally warped that I busted out laughing at this??

The Concept of Summer Vacation

The mere existence of a "school calendar" has changed society's outlook on work and leisure and rest. During Gary's first couple of years out of seminary and in the parish, we had some friends who wanted to get together during Christmas break. We told them we weren't available to make a 10-hour roundtrip to see them the week before Christmas. Gary was a pastor. Pastors work on Christmas. There is the children's Christmas program. There's Advent services, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the next week is New Year's Eve and the Circumcision of Our Lord. Not exactly the time to run off for a fun-filled playtime with friends.

They didn't understand. They were both teachers. They'd spent decades governed by the school calendar, either as students, college students, or teachers. They didn't understand that most people have to keep going to work during Easter break, Christmas break, and the summer recess.

We have begun to notice the same thing at factories and other work places now too. More and more businesses are closing the week after Christmas. So many of the workers think they are entitled to a Christmas break, and so many will be no-shows at work, that the company admits defeat, shuts down, and uses the time for cleaning or inventory or some other tasks that require a minimal number of employees.

I am tired. I see no way of keeping up with my duties. Several of my friends are equally weary. They are teachers and students. I keep hearing them talk about "only two more weeks until the school year is done" or "fourteen more days of getting up early, and then we're done until August." I am jealous: I see no rest in sight, no break from routine approaching for at least 13 months.

With our entire society being raised with the mental acceptance of a School Calendar, we adjust our lives accordingly. Not only do we feel entitled to breaks, but we also overdo. During the school year, we pack too much work, too much study, too many extra-curriculars, too many clubs, too many lessons, into those nine months. Then we crash and need the occasional breaks.

Doesn't it seem like it would be easier and more reasonable to live a moderate life consistently, rather than the hustle-bustle and then the collapse to recuperate? (Now, how I convince myself to do it?)

Parenting and Homeschooling

A very helpful perspective on raising kids (including homeschooling) and on what the experts have to say to you...

Trust Your Child, Trust Yourself

He Rebuked Their Unbelief

In Mark's version of the Easter story, Jesus appears to Magdalena in the morning and to the Emmaus disciples in the afternoon. Then he appeared to the Eleven in the upper room and "rebuked their unbelief and hardness of heart."

As Pastor pointed out during chapel, we tend to hear the word rebuke and think of a scolding. "Shame on you! You didn't believe when Mary told you that I rose from the dead! For shame!"

But what does John tell us? Jesus appeared in the upper room and said, "Peace be to you."

Wait a minute. Where's the scolding? Where's the rebuke?

Isn't this more like the exorcism in baptism? ("Depart you unclean spirit, and make room for the Holy Spirit.") When Jesus speaks His word of mercy and love and forgiveness, that chases away the unbelief. The demons and the unfaith are rebuked so that the sinner is rescued from his hardness of heart.

That's some kind of "rebuke" -- a rebuke which draws in the rebuked-one for a hug and words of comfort and assurance.

Concerning Judas

In our Bible story today (Acts 1) Peter is saying that the disciples ought to figure out who might replace Judas, and they end up with Matthias.

Did you ever think about how hard it must have been for them to have lost Judas? Sure, sure, they had much bigger things going on: their master arrested and tortured and killed, their denying Him, the resurrection and their initial disbelief of it, and the whole thing of "What now?" and waiting.

But think about what it would be like if it were you; y'know, they lived with Judas for three years. They traipsed around the countryside with him. They'd been through a lot together. And then he turned away. That's a scary thought. When we see faithful Christians turn away, we wonder why. We question whether God screwed up. We wonder if we will be the next to reject God's love. Maybe the disciples needed some comfort in these matters. Peter points out that Judas's betrayal was foretold in the scriptures, and it happened just as surely as did Jesus' death and resurrection (which were likewise foretold).

Cleaning for Company

Do most people clean when they're expecting company? I know my mom and dad did a lot of cleaning and spiffing before my wedding. I've heard friends advise that a good way to keep up on your housecleaning is to invite company every two or three weeks. Some friends at church spent anywhere from 3-10 days cleaning house before the Scandinavians came to visit last week.

I must be a schlock. I didn't clean for our international company.

Many years ago, when I was still struggling with how to run a household and keep up with the chores, I read Don Aslett. When I finished the first book, I determined that I would no longer clean for company. I would clean for us. I would keep the house as clean as I wanted it ... well, I'd try to. But it would be for our sakes, not for the sake of company.

Sometimes the kids will think they caught me cleaning for company. If I'm two weeks overdue on vacuuming the living room, and I know that I won't be vacuuming for the next four days because of spending time with company, I may just run the vacuum before the guests come. But it's because I'm already stressed that the floor is dirty, and because I'm going to be a whole lot more stressed if the rug is gathering up three weeks' worth of grime. Sometimes those jobs don't get done before company, though, so they're done after the company leaves.

So here we were, with a stranger coming to visit, someone from another country who might very well be getting his first impressions of an American home. And I didn't clean. That's probably rotten of me. But I didn't want to be stressed over the approaching visit.

You know what?
You know WHAT???

When we came home from vespers with Dag, we couldn't get into the garage. Then we noticed that none of the neighbors had any lights on. Hmmmm. Sure enough -- no electricity because of the storms earlier. It was the longest power outage that our family had experienced in probably 10 years or more. So here we are, hunting up candles and matches, putting fresh batteries into flashlights, having Dag use his flashlight to point out the spot on the map where he lives. There's no water because we're on a well that uses a pump that runs on electricity. (I sure am glad I used the potty at church before heading home!) We used matches to light the gas stove and sauteed some asparagus from the garden. We sat around the kitchen and got to know each other in a room filled with candlelight. And it was wonderful in spite of the silly inconvenience!

The next morning, the thought crossed my mind:
If I had cleaned for company, Dag wouldn't even have been able to see my hard work to be impressed by my feigned immaculateness!

I feel vindicated.

The Wieting men.
Some of you will know Pastor Ken Wieting from his writing.

Mom, you'll probably want names; you haven't seen these guys for a long long time. Luke is on the left. Then Ken, then Ben, then Mark on the right.

The song is done barbershop-quartet style. And yowza -- those voices all in the same family sound nice together! The song pokes fun at homeschooling stereotypes and is a lot of fun!

Garden Report

Gary has brought in several more batches of asparagus.
The strawberry bed has been raked and stripped of the visible dandelions.
The other berries and canes have also been de-dandelioned.

Don't know yet what Wednesday's storms did to the newly-planted seeds in the raised bed. I'm sure the seeds are still there. But rows? Not so likely.

There is CILANTRO coming up which must have seeded itself last fall. Woo hoo!

Good Tweezers

After a drenching rain on Wednesday, the dandelions were coming out by their roots! They weren't just breaking off like normal. I spent a few hours on Thursday getting my feet and knees muddy while I rescued strawberries and raspberries from their dandelion-invaders.

But raspberries have thorns. So do thistles. During the night, I kept awaking to notice a pain in one toe. Sure enough, when daylight came I could see the tiny sliver under my skin.

We used to have a cheap pair of tweezers. They couldn't pull ANYthing out. A couple of years ago, Gary finally popped a wad o' money on a pair of high-quality tweezers. And you know what? They actually work! Nasty little sliver eliminated quick as a wink. Hooray!

The Passion of the Christ

I've heard some of my friends say that they don't want to see the movie. I understand the sentiment; when the movie first came out, I thought the same thing. It definitely makes an impression on you, that's for sure! And as one of my friends explained, you can't go back and "unsee" something, so she's holding off.

This year I heard a description of the movie that resonated with me. Someone told us it was the cinematic version of Handel's Messiah. Yes! That's it. Exactly! Like the Messiah, the movie IS the gospel for sinners, but in a different art form. And it is rich and full and deep.

One of the things I want to do someday is to figure out all the psalms that Jesus prays in the movie. For example, before He is to be scourged, what Jesus prays is not just an extemporaneous prayer for help, but it is from a psalm.

Last time I watched the show, I noticed not only the words of some psalms, but also the context. (That's why I want to look them all up, so as to bask in more of the contexts.) When Jesus takes up His cross on the Via Dolorosa, He prays, "I am Your servant, the son of Your maidservant ...." Do you know what comes right before that in Psalm 116? "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Hey, that fits too! And do you know what comes right after those words placed into Jesus' mouth in the movie? "I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving." Hey! We often think of that psalm in the context of the liturgy, but THE sacrifice, the ultimate sacrifice of thanksgiving, was about to be butchered that Friday long ago.




How many more sweet things like that are tucked away in the film? This movie is a masterful work of presenting the gospel, always with more beauties of God's love to be found woven into the piece. Every time I see it, I look forward to discovering more of those treasures.

Garden Report

What with persistent rain and cold, I haven't really been able to get outside to work much. Today I took a couple of hours to hit the garden.

Dug up and fluffed one raised bed.
Planted lettuce, spinach, beets, cilantro, and basil in it.
Discovered spinach coming up that somehow lived through the winter or seeded itself.
Same for some cilantro.
Dug a lot of dandelions out of the garden, particularly where they were amongst the precious baby cilantro plants.
Rotten rabbits and/or blasted deer have been nibbling on my perennial onions.

The small cherry tree has a few blooms. Lilacs and the big cherry tree, though, still have a long way to go before they flower. Apple trees are just beginning to grow; I'll need to prune soon. Grape vines still look dead, but should start to show signs of life soon.

Gary has cut asparagus several times. We've eaten two small batches.
Maggie cut some tulips and brought them inside for the cheery sight and the lovely perfume.

Next job will be to rake the maple leaves and other fall/winter yuckies out of the strawberry patch. After that will be some shoveling or tilling in the other beds, in hopes that someday it will be warm enough to plant tomatoes. After that, a good job weeding around the berry canes.

Hospital's Cooking Contest

I developed a delicious recipe for a chicken-and-rice dish that is good for you (as differentiated from the yummy but not-so-healthy chicken-and-rice made with cream of mushroom soup). I have been waiting for a recipe contest to come along so that I might stand a chance at winning a prize with this all-mine recipe. So I was excited to see a postcard arrive in the mail, mentioning a recipe contest.

Bummers! Turns out the prize is the privilege of being on a local cooking show, and having the host "healthy-up" your recipe. No money? Sorry, but a trip to Madison to have a mainstream-nutrition guy try to make my healthy recipe healthier (by using margarine instead of butter?? using lite soy sauce instead of real??) ain't gonna happen.

Nevertheless, I thought the sample recipe on the flyer looked like it was worth a try: Thai Chili Chicken. But once I started making it (and then tasting it) I wondered. This recipe had 1 pound of chicken and 1 quart of chopped veggies to stir-fry ... and a half-cup of sugar. A half cup for only one pound of chicken and one quart of vegetables? And this is supposed to be for "health-conscious foodies"? Excuse me. I admit I am far too fond of my sugar. But even we thought this was too sweet, and that's after I downgraded the amount of sugar by making the recipe with 50% more chicken and about three times the amount of vegetables.

If this is what passes for health-conscious cooking, no wonder the doctors don't take me seriously when I say we have a good diet. Our diet makes "healthy diets" look like junk food.

Okay. Rant over. I promise. (For a little while.)

The Best Mother's Day Gift

Attendance was high at church yesterday. There were a lot of visitors (or members who attend only occasionally) sitting next to Mom or Grandma. It made me suspect that quite a few women responded to "What would you like for Mother's Day?" with "Please don't buy me anything; just come to church with me!" I wonder if that's normal at other congregations or if it's particularly important to the women in our congregation. What is more gladsome to a Christian mother's heart than that her children cling to Jesus in faith and desire to soak up more of His word?



Lutheran Satire's you-tube
about thanking Lutheran mothers

Today's Laugh

A genie offers the man whatever he might wish for. Anything at all! Whatever he wants!

The man says that, if he could have anything his heart desired, he would love to ride his Harley all the way to Hawaii.

"Hawaii?" asks the genie. "That's a pretty selfish wish. It would be a very long bridge; the supports would have to all the way to the ocean floor. Storms would endanger the bridge. Fulfilling your wish would be virtually impossible."

The man recognized the wisdom of the genie's complaint. So he decided to make a different wish. "Genie, I changed my mind. Instead, I want to be able to understand my wife. I want to understand what she's saying. I want to understand her feelings. I want to rightly interpret her facial expressions and tone of voice."

The genie thought for a few moments. Then he responded, "So did you want one lane or two?"



Joke picked up during last Thursday's Bible class.

Gamaliel's Advice

Peter and John were preaching. The Sanhedrin was not happy: "Let's lock 'em up." The angel opens the prison doors; John and Peter resume their preaching the next day. "Shut up!" But Peter and John didn't shut up. "What are we going to do now?" "I know; let's kill 'em." That's when Gamaliel stood up and advised the Sanhedrin to knock it off. "If this movement is from man, it will fizzle out on its own. If it's from God, you can't stamp it out, and you ought not be fighting against God." So the Sanhedrin took the proverbial chill-pill, beat up the apostles, and sent them on their way without assassination attempts.

How come we know what went on in this "executive session" of the Sanhedrin? Because Paul was there.

Wait a minute. Paul was there? He grew up in Jerusalem (Acts 22:3) and his mentor was, of all people, Gamaliel. He had respect for his teacher. And yet, his teacher said to leave the Christians alone. Saul didn't leave them alone. He persecuted the Church, hunting down Christians to imprison them and murder them.

When Jesus called Saul to be a Christian and an apostle, He said, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads."

Hadn't Gamaliel told Paul something similar?

If it were me, after God had claimed me, I would seriously regret having blown off my mentor's objective advice.

No wonder Paul had clear memories of that meeting of the Sanhedrin.

Damaif

You moms know what it's like. "What's for dinner?" And two minutes later, another voice pipes up, "So, what's for dinner?"

Once upon a time, when we had eight (count 'em, EIGHT) people living in our house (and one of them was ME), I was exhibiting some level of patience ...

... until I was asked for the EIGHTH time [remember, there were only seven other people in the house] "What's for dinner?"

I didn't have a recipe. I was putting together something that would be edible, nutritious, and hopefully tasty. It didn't have a name. But it was food. And I was tired of being asked. "Don't ask me again! It's food!"

And the ninth time [siiiiiigh] I was asked what supper would be, "ARGH! Don't ask me again! It's food."

And thus was born a new word: "DAMAIF."

D on't
A sk
M e
A gain
I t's
F ood.


"Mom, what's for supper?"
"Damaif."

Now the urchins will occasionally (at time when they are not valuing their lives) be foolish enough to ask, "So what kind of ingredients are in this damaif?" Naughty urchins.

Relentless Accusations

Remember when Magdalena was caught in adultery (John 8)? The Pharisees wanted to stone her. Trying to trap Jesus, they asked Him what He thought of Moses' law. He responded that "he who is without sin cast the first stone." The men eventually all dropped their weapons and wandered away. Jesus asked Mary, "Does no one condemn you?" No one accused her. No one condemned her. Jesus assured her, "Neither do I condemn you."

Another time, we hear the story of the sinful woman who anointed Jesus. I think we can surmise, by looking at what history and the different Gospel accounts tell us, that this woman is Magdalena. (But it's not really critical at the moment whether we have her identified.)

In Luke's account of the anointing of Jesus (chapter 7), we hear of Simon's accusation. This woman is a scuzz. She ought not be touching Jesus. Why is He allowing this anyway? Doesn't He know?!!? We know how the story proceeds: Jesus' response is to teach Simon that he who is forgiven much loves much. We know that Jesus forgives the woman.

But, now, think about that for a minute. He forgives her. What did she do? I mean, hey, in the story, she is doing something good. What's she's doing needs no forgiveness. On the contrary! She is honoring Him because she loves Him. She is right smack-dab in the middle of a good work! And He says, "Your sins are forgiven."

Is the forgiveness irrelevant? NO.

Jesus has this idea that --in the face of accusations-- the solution is forgiveness of sins.

Even when you're not doing something bad.
Even when your sins are stale and old.
Even when you've already been forgiven.

"I forgive you."
Again.
And again.
And again.

Winepress

I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. (John 15)

He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth. (Isaiah 53)

And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling to the ground. (Luke 22)

For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you upon the altar to make atonement for your souls. (Leviticus 17)



By Thy baptism, fasting, and temptation;
by Thine agony and bloody sweat;
by Thy cross and passion;
help us, good Lord.

Their Eyes Were Restrained

My pastor loves the story of the Emmaus disciples (Luke 24). He often talks about how their eyes were restrained from recognizing Jesus on that Easter afternoon. Even though they were Christians, they (like we) are simultaneously plagued by unbelief. Because of their doubts and unbelief, they did not know Jesus until they recognized Him in the preaching and the breaking of the bread. It is preaching and catechesis which awakens faith that we might see Jesus.

But look at another Easter story (John 20). Magdalena is in the garden, weeping on Easter morning. She sees Jesus, but (like the Emmaus disciples later in the day) she does not recognize Him with her eyes. Her eyes too are opened when she hears Him with her ears.

The Enemy

In Psalm 35, David prays for God's help when he is being attacked by his enemy. He prays,
They reward me evil for good,
to the sorrow of my soul.
But as for me, when they were sick,
my clothing was sackcloth;
I humbled myself with fasting,
and my prayer would return to my own heart.
I pace about as though he were my friend or brother;
I bowed down heavily, as one who mourns for his mother.

I don't know when David wrote that. Maybe he was writing about King Saul who tried repeatedly to hunt him down and kill him. Maybe he was writing about his son Absolom and the coup attempt. Maybe it's about somebody else, or about all the different antagonists in David's life.

But it's also Jesus' prayer. (All the psalms are!) When we responded to God's goodness with evil, it brought sorrow to Jesus. When we were sick in sin, Jesus fasted and prayed for us. Even when we despised Him, He regarded us as a friend or a brother.

Dandelions

As much as I love the cheery yellow brightness of dandelions in bloom, I hate the stems poking up all over the yard the day after you mow. The dandelions are multiplying quite rapidly, so we determined that this year we'd resort to poison (aka, fertilizer and weed-killer). One dose. Maybe two. Not dousing the yard monthly in all the smelly stuff some of the neighbors use.

Now I wonder. I headed outside well before chapel this morning, while the dew still lay on the lawn. The hummingbird that came to check out my tulips and lilac flitted away. The taste of the poison was strong in my mouth; I had to keep spitting. (I wasn't licking the stuff. Honest! But it sure tasted in my mouth like I was. Blech!) The kitties were not allowed outside until this evening, much to their chagrin. This evening I'm exhausted and feel sick to my stomach. It may be coincidence, but I'm wondering whether it might be better to live with a yard chock-full of dandelions than to use the Scott's.

And then there's always that nervous feeling that, someday soon, I may be glad to have [chemically-untreated] foods to forage in my yard. Dandelion, clover, lambs-quarter, and pigweed are edible. Grass, not so much.

Zoe's Baptism

In the Lilacs

This reminds me of Janey Moffat.

The Father's Voice

During this past Epiphany season, Pastor frequently mentioned how this part of the church year is bookended with "This is My beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." The Father said it at Jesus' baptism. He said it again at the transfiguration. When Jesus suffered in His passion, when God's wrath was poured out on Him, when He was abandoned by the Father because He had become the sinner on behalf of the whole world, He still clung to that word of God: "This is My beloved Son."

This is important because sometimes it seems to us as if God has abandoned us. Our experience may tell us that God no longer loves us, but we need to hang on to the clear and certain word of God that declares: "I forgive you all your sins" and "Take, eat; drink of it all of you ... shed for you for the forgiveness of sins." But how often do we pay more attention to our feelings and experience than we do to God's word!

So it is comforting to read in John 12 how the Father's voice thunders from heaven yet again, this time promising to glorify His name. It's grand to know that God is willing to repeat Himself so often, that we might have a word to which we might cling. And if He does it for Jesus, the man of perfect faith, how much more will He reiterate His promises to those of us full of doubts and misgivings, who need constant renewal of faith.

Non-Negotiable Hymns

There are certain hymns we sing every year on a certain day. For example, "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" is every Easter. Not Saturday night at Easter Vigil, not the next week for Thomas Sunday. But Easter morning. Same thing for "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today."

Every Christmas Eve we get "Silent Night" whether we want it or not, because some people really really want it. Every Christmas is "Joy to the World"; I betcha most people would be upset if they came to church and didn't sing that one. I had thought "To Shepherds As They Watched by Night" was one of those non-negotiable Christmas-morning hymns here, but it shockingly went missing this year. It's probably nigh onto impossible to celebrate All Saints without "Behold a Host" and "For All the Saints," but some of the other top-choices might be skipped every now and then. And what's the likelihood that a Lutheran congregation would celebrate Reformation without singing "A Mighty Fortress"?

So what are the non-negotiables at your church? I'm not asking what your favorites are, but what hymns seem to be part of the Easter service or Christmas service without the pastor deciding to include them (because their spot on the hymn-board is already a foregone conclusion).

The Law as a Curb

We recently watched "Beyond the Gates of Splendor," a documentary that came out several years ago, around the same time as the movie "The End of the Spear" (which I haven't seen). It is the story of the missionaries in the 1950's who were killed by violent tribesmen in Ecuador. But the families of the missionaries stuck around.

At the end of the movie, Gary commented that there really wasn't anything about the Gospel. We couldn't tell from the documentary if these five men (and their wives) were missionaries who preached the forgiveness of sins, or if they were primarily trying to bring morals and Western culture to these tribes. Either way, though, the violence of the tribe was greatly diminished after they received the missionaries' wives into their community.

I never really understood that whole thing about the law serving as a "curb, mirror, and guide." I understand that God's law shows us our sin. I understand that God's law shows us what holiness looks like. But I struggled to understand the "curb." How can the law curb society's immoral behavior if society doesn't want to listen to God's word in the first place? But the movie showed Mincayani talking about how their spearing-to-death would have wiped out the whole tribe. He tells about how people were angry and easily resorted to killing. He talked about the self-destruction of acting for yourself instead of acting for the good of the community. Self-sacrifice and self-control is objectively good for society and her members ... even for those who have no love for God's word and His ways. And I suspect that this may be what "the law as curb" is getting at.

Crankifying a Mommy

Instructions on building a crankier mom:

Step 1. Choose a day when she's tired.

Step 2. Do not do your chores.

Step 3. Be sure to amuse yourself while she is making your lunch, washing your dishes, mopping up your spill, and laundering your clothes.

Step 4. When she is quite behind on her list of tasks, with absolutely no progress having been made on your list of tasks, start asking if she will spend some time playing with you.

Step 5. Ask her to play a game, read a story, or take you someplace fun. Then ask 17 more times.


Mission accomplished!

Today's Laugh

Today's Laugh

More cartoons at gaspirtz.com

Rejoice

This is the day which the Lord has made;
we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Which day are we talking about here? The verse is from the Passover psalm. The "day" is the day on which the Stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.

And what does Jesus tell His disciples in the upper room late on Thursday night?

You have heard me say to you,
"I am going away and coming back to you."
If you loved me, you would rejoice
because I said, "I am going to the Father."

He "goes to the Father" on the altar of the cross. He goes to the Holy of Holies with the offering of blood. Even though the disciples would mourn, He knows His suffering is for our rejoicing.

So to Pass Through This Holy Time of Our Lord's Passion

Andrew wondered last night why we have to leave church in silence tonight and tomorrow night, and why we have to assemble in silence on Friday and Saturday nights. I had some ideas, but no good explanation. It's hard to pin down (without sounding pietistic) why we have this practice. I don't think my experience this morning answers his question, but it does shed some light.

Okay, a bit of background first. When I was editing the first volume of Scaer's In Christ, I loved the Easter Vigil sermon on "The Greatest Comeback Ever." Hating the fact that I sounded like a salesman, I nevertheless couldn't help but tell people that that sermon alone made it worth buying the book! Gary stole borrowed that sermon the first year the book was out. Pastor Bender did too, that year or the next. I told them both I could listen to that sermon preached over and over.

So anyway, back to the point. This morning during Bible class, Pastor reads us that sermon. Oh, I love that sermon! But I noticed something. (Call me emotional. Call me an Enthusiast. Call me a pietist. Whatever.) That sermon is different on Thursday morning than it is on Saturday night. The journey through the Passover readings on Thursday, the stripping of the altar, the Tenebrae, the veneration of the cross, the Reproaches, the entire Passion reading from John, the Exsultet, and the many stories during the Great Vigil, they all do something.



Holy Tuesday's collect:
Almighty and everlasting God, grant us grace so to pass through this holy time of our Lord's Passion that we may obtain the pardon of our sins.

Zoe

Three weeks old now.

Garden Report

Bwwaaa haaa haaaa!

By the way, you people in Illinois and Indiana are making me jealous.

Last year, in the first few days of April, I tilled the garden and planted the potatoes and some cool-weather crops like peas and spinach and lettuce. This year, in the first few days of April, the ground was finally thawed but by no means tillable. Too muddy!

After several days of warmth and then several days of wind, the ground was workable last Tuesday (April 12th). I put out some lettuce seeds in the raised bed, but didn't get to tilling the regular patch of dirt. Since then we've had nothing but rain, snow, sleet, ice, and darkness. Potatoes ain't going in on Good Friday this year -- that's for sure!

Some of my perennial onions have poked up in the berry patch. Gary said he saw no sign of asparagus yet. The tulip leaves have come up, but nowhere near signs of flowers. Weedon said the lilacs were already blooming in southern Illinois, but our lilacs are just beginning to have the tiniest signs of life. I did see rhubarb beginning.

Maybe when we get past these ice storms and chills, spring will just have to bust out mega-fast! (Note to self: remember to hold open a flexible spot on the calendar for renting a tiller and playing in the dirt.)

That Old Wrist

Between counting money and working a mouse, I'm feeling carpal tunnel problems originally developed in gardening. (And I'm not even weeding yet, or snapping beans, or anything!) In addition to the wrist brace, the anti-inflammatories, and an increase in B vitamins, I tried some acupressure. It's amazing to me how I can look at the little map of a person's arm, touch that point, and FEEL the tenderness at that exact spot (and not feel it at all an inch away). But after a few tries at using the acupressure, the pain and numbness seem worse instead of better. I wonder if that's coincidence or if I should have flooded myself with water (as you do after massage) or what?

Four Dollars

It used to be that a price increase of a penny or two a gallon translated into a 2-5% price increase. Today, a 2-5% price increase is 10-15 cents per gallon, and that's just what we're seeing every few days.

Do you remember when gas prices hovered at 98-cents or 99-cents? Remember the signs at the gas stations which had only 2 digits for the prices? What happens when you spill over from cents to dollars-and-cents? I remember cardboard signs with a big "1" painted on it, taped to the signs announcing the price-per-gallon.

I suppose that now, with digital, we won't have the same problems when the gas prices go to a two-digit price for dollars. Yikes!

(Hey, Congress, can we start drilling in Alaska and the Gulf already? Pleeeeease?)

Today's Laugh

Go take a look at something my friend Melody wrote last year. I laughed and laughed at the picture!

Plain, Old, Everyday Preaching

From The Hobbit, chapter 3, when the dwarves and
Gandalf and Bilbo are being refreshed at Rivendell --

Now it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway.

Over and over again, as we've been studying the book of Acts this past year, Pastor has pointed out the verses we so quickly bleep over. If you look at 9:20-23 and 9:31 and 11:20 and 15:35 and 16:4 and 18:11 and 20:2 and so many other locations, there's nothing Exciting! Paul goes to the synagogue, he preaches, and when he is kicked out he continues preaching to those who will listen. Churches form. They meet for liturgy and prayers, for preaching and the Lord's Supper. The miracles aren't the norm; the synodical conventions aren't the norm; the riots aren't the norm; the pentecostal signs of the Holy Spirit aren't the norm.

But, hey, as Tolkien mentioned, when things are going the way they're supposed to be going ("a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty") there ain't much to tell.
But it's good.

a holy week

"Holy Week." All my life, I heard that as a title.

This Thursday in Bible class, Pastor said it differently. It was like "holy" was an adjective for the "week" that is coming up. "During this holy week" instead of "during this Holy-Week."

Hmmm.
The week where a holy God did holy things.
The week where we learn what holiness is.
The week wherein we are made holy.

Zoe

Two weeks old.

All Signed Up

Registration began this morning for the CNA classes at our local tech school. To be admitted to the RN program, a student must already have the Certified Nursing Assistant training under his belt. Demand for those classes is high. The school told us that, if Andrew really wanted the class, we should be logged on to his account prior to 7:00, and register on-the-dot, when the atomic clock changed from 6:59 to 7:00. A little stressful to wonder whether he'd swoop in and get one of the open slots. But he did!!!

Hooray! He's also signed up for his CPR class in June.

Next job is to buy scrubs and a pair of white tennis shoes. (White tennies is no biggie for most students -- little girls with size 7 feet -- but when Bigfoot has to go shoe shopping....)

Paul's Tears

When Paul is headed off to Jerusalem for Pentecost, knowing that something really bad is awaiting him, he skips Ephesus but takes time to visit with the Ephesian pastors in Miletus. He reminds the pastors that they know he has served the Lord "with many tears and trials." During Bible class this week, Pastor pointed out how we are prone to think of Paul's tears as the results of getting beaten or stoned or chased out of town. We think he's sad because people are perturbed with him and wanting to do him harm. (And there may be some truth to that. Nobody likes to be hated.) But when we read Romans 9-10, we realize that Paul yearned for the Jews to be saved. His tears were more for them, because of their rejection of the Savior, than tears for himself and his own comfort (or lack thereof).

As he has done all through the book of Acts, Pastor was pointing out how the apostles looked like Jesus. They preached like Jesus. They even did miracles like Jesus. They faced the same Sanhedrin and Roman officials as did Jesus. And here in this passage (20:19) we have Paul grieving over his people's rejection of God's mercy. Sound like Jesus? Remember that story (likewise told by Luke) just before Jesus' death when He wept over Jerusalem? "If only you had known the things that are for your peace!" (19:41).

A Conclusion to the Book of Acts

Pastor commented in Bible class this week that Acts ends abruptly. If you're reading about Paul, you don't get the end of the story. There are several things you continue to wonder about. It seems unfinished.

Theologically, that reflects the truth that the story doesn't end with Paul. "All the things that Jesus began to do and teach" continues in the Church with the apostles and even after that, through today and until the end of the world.

Okay, I've heard that before. Maybe you have too.

What crossed my mind today was "So what did Luke think about this?" Did Luke get hung up on finishing the book? Was it on his to-do list for months and then years? Did he keep thinking that there was more that needed to be said? But when he didn't get it said, he finally just had to give up on the project of finishing the book? This is probably naughty speculation. But I wonder sometimes how our good plans and good intentions may be thwarted by God for a reason that never ever crosses our minds.

Sleeping in Death

It is a curious thing that Christians talk about death as a sleep. We do it because the Apostle Paul did it. It's a word that shows that death is --for the Christian-- but a rest prior to awaking from the tomb in the resurrection of the body.

But I noticed today (in the John 11 reading about Lazarus's raising) that Jesus was the one who said, "Lazarus is sleeping." When the disciples, in their characteristic dunderheadedness, said, "Oh, hey, if he's able to sleep, then he'll be getting better soon," Jesus told them, "Guys, hey, he's dead."

So Paul wasn't inventing some theological lingo. He just repeated what Jesus had said -- which is a very good way to be safe in your theology.

Converted Rice

On the Learn-Something-New-Every-Day front:

I really believe in whole foods. I don't buy instant rice; I buy brown whole-grain rice. I see bags of Uncle Ben's Converted Rice on the shelf. I never knew what it was. Converted? Converted from what? To what? Sounds pretty processed to me.

But after reading Richard Blunt recently on beans & rice, I learned what converted rice is. "Converted rice" is parboiled rice, rice that is boiled a bit, but not cooked all the way. The parboiling helps to drive some of the nutrients into the rice grains. Then the rice can be polished (that is, have the outsides removed) so that it has the long-lasting, never-spoiling qualities of refined white rice. But with a lot more nutrients!

There's something valuable there for those of us who like to stock up on shelf-stable foods in case of emergencies.

Menu for a Party When You Can't Prepare

So what do you do when you're having 18 people over for Sunday dinner, but you'll be gone from 7:00 until 12:30, arriving at home from church the same time as the guests? All my standard company dinners (lasagna, meatloaf & mashies, tetrazzini, brats & burgers) wouldn't work in this situation. I needed something that could be prepared on Saturday and then served straight out of the fridge or the crockpot(s). Here's what I came up with:

~ sub sandwiches: buns, meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onion, green pepper, peperoncini, olives, mayo, mustard, ketchup, pickles
~ roast vegetables, roasted the night before and warmed in the crockpot on Sunday morning
~ baked beans (same plan as the roast veggies)
~ fruit: based on availability, we have a bowl of fresh pineapple, a bowl of grapes, a platter of sliced oranges with dried dates
~ potato salad
~ beverages: sweet tea, unsweetened herb tea, wine, beer, water, milk
~ dessert: Glenda's most evil dessert plus whatever Katie brings


It's been a long time since I've cooked for company. Today has been fun! As much as I like my job at the bank, today again has me dreaming of catering.

Gumbo

Katie's old blog disappeared. That's where I stored my gumbo recipe. I used to just wing it, but she and Rachel wanted to follow my recipe. (Recipe? There's a real recipe?) So the deal was for me to make gumbo while somebody wrote down the tweaks to the written, "kinda-sorta-guideline" recipe. Gary helped me find a cached copy of her blogpost, and now I'm rescuing it from electronic destruction when the caching peters out. And so, without further ado, my gumbo recipe --


Stew one chicken (or four leg quarters).
Let cool enough to handle.
Debone. Chop chicken.

Chop:
1 onion
2 ribs celery
1 green pepper
some hot peppers if desired.
Saute in olive oil until the onion is softened and translucent.

Add 1/3 pound sausage or ham.
Fry until meat is cooked.

Add 1/4 or 1/2 cup white flour.
Cook on low heat 10-40 minutes,
scraping the bottom of the pot frequently
so that the flour browns and you don't have a mess stuck onto the bottom of the pan.
(A few minutes will work if you're in a real hurry,
but if you can make yourself keep browning that flour for 30 minutes, that's when you make a fantabulous gumbo!)

Add:
the chicken and broth
1 pint can of diced tomatoes
small can of shrimp or crabmeat (optional)
garlic (to taste)
1 tsp sugar
2-3 tsp salt
black pepper
1/2 tsp thyme
1/2 tsp oregano

When boiling, add 1-2 pounds frozen chopped okra.
Cook about 10 minutes, or until okra is done.

Serve over rice. Add cayenne or Frank's Red Hot for those who desire more heat.

Zoe

One week old:

Posted here because there are blog-readers who aren't Facebook-friends with Katie to see what she posts there.

Donuts

Oh, sadness, oh, woe. I think yesterday I may have eaten my last donut.

I was working the polls. The town administrator brought in a box of hard rolls and pastries for us. Discipline; smarts; thinking nutritionally. I was a good girl.

For a while.

C'mon ... a box of crullers and Danish and Bavarian-cream-filled donuts and apple fritters. Finally I decided I could have one. Right? Just one. They were calling to me, begging to be eaten, looking delicious, smelling wonderful.

Dang it. I'm old. And donuts are sweet. And full of fat and white flour. And they weren't little donuts. I can't remember the last time I had a whole donut. I think it was at Emmaus, South Bend, so it would have been several years ago.

Ten blissful minutes of savoring that donut, and I paid for it all day with an upset stomach. I intend not to make that mistake again. (But I wouldn't be surprised if my tastebuds overrule my stomach again someday when I am weak.)

The Light of the World

In Sunday's [3-year] Gospel, we hear about Jesus' giving sight to the man who was born blind. The story starts with the question about "Who sinned?" that this man should be punished with blindness. Jesus explains that it wasn't a punishment for a particular sin, but that it was in order that God's works might be revealed in him. Then Jesus tells them that He is the light of the world.

Huh. I didn't realize that line was in that story. I knew "I am the light of the world" from the previous chapter. Huh.

So Pastor's making a point in the sermon about how the miracles of Jesus are merely signs. The point is not that somebody with bad legs could walk now. The point is not that a blind person could see, or a deaf person hear. The point is not that Lazarus was brought back to life. After all, these healing miracles were not permanent: these people eventually died. These are signs which point to the greater reality: the true healing found in the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body.

And that is seen so well by looking at the two locations where Jesus claims to be the light of the world. First, Mary Magdalene is caught in adultery and is about to be stoned for it. Jesus speaks to her accusers, and they go away, and He says to her, "I do not condemn you." That's when He says He's the light of the world. A little later, still in Jerusalem, when He talks about being the light of the world, the important part is still the forgiveness of sins. But this time Jesus has a sign connected to His gift of merciful absolution: the man's physical eyes were opened to physical light, just as his eyes were opened in faith to the Light of the World.

Responding to Someone's Foot in the Mouth

One of the guys at church was admiring Zoe after church on Sunday morning. He teased Rachel that she was not keeping up with Katie. Katie has two kids, and Rachel doesn't have any yet.

I was stunned. I couldn't think what to say.

Rachel's face was pretty stunned too. But she gently and kindly responded, "I suffered a miscarriage in December." The man dropped the teasing, apologized, and expressed sorrow for their loss.

It was awkward.

But what do you do? He didn't mean anything hurtful by his teasing. Rachel didn't want to make him feel bad for having brought it up. But what do you do?

Seems to me that the honest way Rachel responded was perfect. She didn't lie or pretend; neither did she blow up. He could not undo what he'd said, but he could say he was sorry. Sometimes that's all that can be done. Honesty and concern and forgiveness go a long way to smoothing over those blunders that sinners commit against each other. I was truly quite impressed with how my daughter handled the interchange.

Rocks in the Rain

Just when you could use a run of sunny days to help a newborn overcome her slight [and perfectly normal] jaundice, the forecast has days and days of clouds and rain. And rain it did during church this morning! When you looked out the door after church, it looked like there'd been snow, the hail was piled so deep. Luckily, the massive amounts of hail came down in tiny pieces.

Interesting perspective to be in the back of the church, with the lights thinking about flicking out, seeing the zots of lightning out the window, hearing huge rumbles of thunder, glad to know the words Pastor was saying from the liturgy because the banging of hail on the roof sometimes made it a bit hard to hear. It made me think of Noah and Mrs Noah in the ark, safe and secure inside the refuge God had provided, no matter what was going on outside. In reality, that's what church is every Sunday, even when the weather is lovely; the devil and the world rage against her, but inside we are safe.

Anyway ... while we visited with our family's Chicago-Contingent in the narthex after church, and of course ogled Baby Zoe, Alia decided she had to go outside. Philip accompanied her to ensure that she didn't go out into the traffic of the parking lot or wade through 40° water up to her ankles. When he wouldn't let her wade, she had to walk on the driveway littered with pebble-sized hail. "There were rocks in the rain!" Yes, dear, that's about the size of it.

Arranged Marriages

What does a person do with a whole day to herself? (Well, besides clean and cook and catch up on all sorts of tasks?) Last week the kids were visiting friends, and Gary was at work. After cooking lunch-for-one (and I managed to pare back the recipe appropriately, amazingly enough!) I sat down to watch the beginning of a movie that none of them would want to see.

Self-control didn't kick in very well. I watched the whole movie that afternoon [like potato chips -- so good that ya just can't stop] and I didn't accomplish one lick o' dusting while watching.

The movie "Arranged" is about an Orthodox Jew and a Muslim. The two gals met each other as first-year teachers. Even though many people expected them to view each other as enemies, it turned out that they got along with each other better than with their co-workers, who had very different views of morality and faith and family. Each girl had reached the age where the parents were ready to arrange the daughter's marriage. Were they scandalized by the prospect of having the family involved in choosing a husband? What did the people around them think? How does it work?

I enjoyed the movie simply for the sake of a mushy love story, as well as a story of friendship. But what resonated most with me was how the main characters were fairly comfortable with their own beliefs in spite of being misfits with so much of the world. Yes, there is discomfort in knowing that the rest of the world thinks you're off your rocker, but not enough discomfort to abandon your integrity. I wonder sometimes how my co-workers see me: as a complete oddball or as just a little different?

A link to a video from a Lutheran pastor about the topic of dating and marriage.
A link to an article about homeschoolers being oddballs and proud of it.

African Peanut-Chicken Soup

Celebrating Gary's birthday, we ate supper at a little coffee shop around the corner from the theatre we attended. My adventurous choice was the African Peanut-Chicken Soup. Upon tasting this heavenly concoction, I melted with the joy of its deliciousness. Then I came home and decided I had to figure out how to make it myself.


Combine:
1 pint of chicken broth or turkey stock
2 Tbsp uncooked rice
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tsp chopped hot pepper (more or less, to taste)
1/4 cup chopped fresh tomato

(or canned petite-diced tomato)

Bring to boil over high heat.
Lower heat and season soup with:
garlic powder
pepper
chili powder
salt if necessary
Then simmer until rice is done. (If using white rice instead of brown, saute onion for 5 minutes before adding broth and rice and tomato.)

Add:
1/3 cup chopped, cooked chicken or turkey
When meat is heated through in the soup,
stir in 3-4 Tablespoons peanut butter.


This easy-breezy recipe makes about 3 cups of delicious soup in about 45 minutes (or less, if you insist on white rice).


(Shhhh... nobody caught on to my near-rabid preference for brown rice here, d'ya think?)

Sharing in the Mystery of Suffering

A quote from p 312 of Hammer of God --
Aunt Agneta is speaking to the pastor, Torvik, about the cross and suffering and sharing each other's burdens (as she was talking about her grandson's apostasy and her plan to adopt his baby and take in the girlfriend he abandoned).

"Usually we suffer only for our own sins. But sometimes we are given the favor of suffering for the sins of others. That is part of the mystery of the Atonement: when one is joined to Christ, one is given the task of lifting a portion from a certain sinner and suffering in his stead, so that he does not have to carry alone all the bitterness of his deeds."
She spoke slowly and gently, as if she were afraid to distort a fine and fragile secrecy through clothing it in words.

Yes! There is joy in sharing someone else's burden.

And yes! There is something almost unspeakable about trying to explain some truths.

Today's Laugh

A cartoon of an April Fool's Joke gone very wrong.

Zoe

Just grabbing a couple of minutes to throw some pictures on the blog of Katie & Nathan's new arrival.

The Implanted Word

Pastor was talking the other day about how he likes the phrase, "the implanted Word." It reminds us of the seed being sown or planted (as in Matthew 13 and Mark 4). It reminds us that the Word grows and bears fruit. It reminds us that the plant grows better when manure is dumped on it [fertilizer, doncha know].

But what I never thought of before is that the seed is planted in dirt. What does God say in Genesis 3 (and every Ash Wednesday)? "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return."

Buying and Receiving Gifts

When there's not much money, a family learns to buy only what it needs, not what it wants.

But what constitutes needs and wants?

Yes, we need food, but do we need hamburger, or can we live on black-eyed peas and rice? Do we need fresh fruit, or is canned good enough? Do we need to go to the doctor and the pharmacy when we're sick, or is that a want? Would recuperating at home (with garlic and herbs and chicken soup) be sufficient? When you have back pain that a D.O. could alleviate, is it a need or a want to visit the doctor and get relief? Do I really need a car to drive to work, or could I walk or bike the 9 miles if I had to? We live in Wisconsin, so we need heat to stay alive through the winter, but do we need 67°, or is that a want? Would 55° be enough? I suspect that we are far more spoiled than I'm willing to admit.


For quite a few years, we've pretty much skipped over birthday presents. I don't think we've ever given anniversary gifts to our kids. What's under the Christmas tree is pretty minimal. This bothers other people more than it bothers us. When I think how many Americans are burdened by too much stuff, I realize that minimal (or sometimes even non-existent) gift-giving may not be such a terrible thing.

There is, however, one rule we've tried to follow. When we receive birthday gifts of cash, we don't spend it on necessities. When our parents say, "Here's a check; do something fun with it," we figure we ought to do something FUN. Right? But when you're living a mega-frugal life, it's hard to let money slip through your fingers. Often we go out to eat with gift-money, but (being frugal) we usually have money left after paying the bill and the tip. So rather than racking our brains to figure out something to spend the money on, we cash the checks, place the money in an envelope, and wait until something really really obvious shows up that we want to do for fun. That's part of the reason we could go to the marvelous play we attended Sunday. It's also why we decided to send two of our daughters to this play. Hey, we can justify it as their past birthday gifts!

And at times like this, I know for sure that we are much wealthier than I usually recognize! The expansive, joyous feeling in my chest from having watched that play -- well, that's not a need. But what a treasure it is!

Keeping His Word in Affliction

Before I was afflicted, I went astray,
but now I keep Your word.
It is good for me that I have been afflicted,
that I may learn Your statutes.
I know, O Lord, that Your judgments are right,
and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.
Let, I pray, Your merciful kindness be for my comfort,
according to Your word to Your servant.

(Psalm 119:67, 71, 75-76)

If God were an angry judge, you'd think those verses meant that He kept sending us troubles until we Learn Our Lessons, and shape up, and fly right. Punish-punish-punish until we get our act together and obey already.

But ... if God is a loving father ... if God desires more than anything that we cling to Him in faith ... those passages from Psalm 119 look different. When we are afflicted and troubled, we see that we have no strength within ourselves to straighten up and fly right. When we are afflicted and troubled, we recognize our need for His kindness and mercy, His "judgment" that declares us righteous for the sake of Jesus' death to atone for our sin.

We are so quick to think "keeping His word" is about what we DO, instead of about hanging onto His promises of grace to us.

a capella chorales

What is it about singing good, strong Lutheran chorales, in 3- or 4-part harmony, without accompaniment? It's lush and rich. Our choir director (aka, pastor) doesn't like music to drag. And yet, when we sing in parts during the opening for Bible class or during chapel (that is, when there is no organ), the music slows down, almost like we're caressing the chords, enjoying the richness, letting it all soak into rafters and seep into our ears and our hearts.

Back When I Was Young

We had fire drills and tornado drills regularly at school. We even had drills to practice what we'd do in case of a nuclear attack. (I wonder if they still have those, or if it would be too scary for kids.)

But we but never lock-down drills. Murders? In school? Weapons? Who could imagine such a thing?

Talking to Yourself

On my second day of training at my new job, my mentor took me aside and told me that I had to stop talking to myself. She said that a couple of customers had given me odd looks while I was rehearsing to myself which step to take next in processing transactions. Sometimes the computer prompted me to insert a certain slip of paper into the printer, and I would pick up the wrong one, and then I told myself, "No, not the pink ticket, but the blue one."

Apparently, that is verboten.
People should not talk to themselves.

It was hard! I had spent decades narrating my life to children. That is a big part of how kids learn: Mom explains what she's doing and why and what the steps are. And then, when you homeschool kids, you have to discuss a gazillion different subjects, reading, dissecting, analyzing, postulating, all day, about nearly everything that comes into your life.

On top of that, I have found that I can focus better when I hear things and talk my way through new situations. I don't think that's so unusual, do you? I mean, maybe I ought not need that, but it helps with problem-solving in unfamiliar territory.

I worked hard to bite my lip at work and not let myself verbalize my way through the day.

It was SO good, then, when I repeatedly noticed my boss doing the exact same thing I'd been told to put a halt to. I'm not getting in trouble now for the times I slip up and talk to myself. And it's a good thing, because I still want to make use of the teaching tool of talking my way through the day!

I wonder about other people. Have you found that raising toddlers and/or homeschooling has nudged you into the world of talking to yourself? Is it normal for people to talk to themselves (and the refrigerator, and the laundry basket, and the toothbrush, and the grocery cart) more as they get older?