Update

The strawberries seemed to be done. Now, the drier & warmer days have them producing again. I went out yesterday to fetch in the "last" of the strawberries. Katie and I picked a gallon and a half, and there will be more today or Wednesday. Very nice!

I thought I'd found a van to replace our old one. Superficially it appears to be in perfect shape. But it needs brakes, a battery, and bushings. The sellers don't want to come down enough on the price for us to be willing to buy it. I don't know where we're going to find a van for a better price, but I guess we have to wait. If they don't sell it in another 2-3 weeks, maybe we'd be willing to increase our price a bit, and maybe they'd be willing to come down in their selling price a bit.

Our tradition at our old home was to spend Fourth of July at the parade, then grilling, then fireworks in the evening. The kids went to the fireworks last night, but I was too tired. (That's pretty tired!) Our recent tradition has been getting together with friends. Last year and this year we spent a while singing hymns while some good violinists and Gary joined to play along with the piano music and the voices. I love singing with people!

The cherry tree is bearing nicely. Not only that, but we have hopes for a new tree. The tree is dying. It's not dead yet, but it's in sad and sorry shape. We have let a watershoot grow up next to the tree, growing stronger and thicker each year. It's still tiny, but this year a few flowers appeared. The cherries that grew on this baby tree are identical to the cherries on the big tree. So the big tree isn't a hybrid and it isn't a grafted tree. Hooray! A replacement is slowly on its way.

It's hard to keep dishes done at this time of year. So many big containers! Big bowls to wash lettuce. Big bowls to bring in strawberries. Salad spinner. Colanders being used several times a day. Pitchers of beverages.

Paul came home briefly for the weekend, as a stopping place on his way to a wedding in Indiana. Taking my van, four of my kids and two grandkids headed off to another state, through Chicago. They had a good trip.

The second raised bed is planted in carrots and green beans. It's getting time to harvest the first raised bed (beets, salad greens, cilantro) and maybe put something else out there. I have a LOT of weeding to do in the tomato/pepper garden.

If I have touched a lawnmower this year, it's been only for about 30 minutes. Gary and Andrew (with a little help from Maggie and Philip) have kept the yard looking so neat and tidy this year.

Why are there so many mosquitoes inside my house???

Day Lily Buds

Recently, Karin and EC and I were talking about weeds and pruning raspberries. I teased Karin that she should be eating day lily buds, seeing as how she has way more day lilies than she wants.

I realized last night: it's that time of year. The season for day lily buds is shorter than the season for strawberries or asparagus. If I want to try them, now's the time. So I nabbed about a dozen and a half off the "weeds" and fried 'em up last night. Oh.my.goodness. This is not like eating lamb's-quarter (which is okay), or eating pigweed/purslane (which is okay in small doses or when added to a salad of milder greens). Day lily buds are good. Like, good to the extent that I'm tempted to go out and snatch a lot more of the buds. But I keep telling myself that I don't want to eliminate my orange flowers altogether, no matter how yummy the buds taste.

One more batch. When Katie (who very much missed seeing day lilies last summer) is around to try them too. That's all I'm going to permit myself -- one more.

Sprinklers

Why does it take 10-15 minutes to turn on the sprinkler? It should take 10-15 seconds. Short of buying a new sprinkler every spring and another new one every July/August, what does a person have to do to have a sprinkler that operates the way it's supposed to? I'd be happy to pay $100 or more for a sprinkler if I knew that it would actually work correctly for 5-10 years or more. I've tried expensive ones, cheap ones, rotating ones, oscillating ones. Nothing seems to work (after the first month, that is) without extensive finagling.

I keep trying to tell myself that the little frustrating machine is a time-saver. If I spend 15 minutes trying to set the sprinkler on a section of garden, and then let it run for 45 minutes, that's still half an hour that I wasn't standing there wielding the hose myself, half an hour of other chores I've done while the machine is watering the garden. That's a good thing, right?

Pruning Raspberries

The most important thing to know is that a berry cane will make a shoot and grow up one summer, but it's the following summer that it bears berries. And then it's done.

Ideally, you will cut all fruit-bearing canes shortly after they're done bearing. It's good to do this in July or August, while there's still obvious and clear evidence of which canes had berries on them. It requires less thinking and less decision-making. Just whack down whatever had fruit on it this year.

If you can get outside in June (maybe 2-5 weeks before this year's canes start setting fruit) and prune or thin, that helps. In the month before the fruit grows, you want to be thinning next year's canes. First, it's easier to thin the new growth when it's shorter than this year's fruit-bearing canes; it looks different enough that it makes the pruning/thinning easier. And easier is better! Second, you don't want the roots and the ground putting all the energy into making new plants (too many plants!) for next summer; you want to be using some of that effort to make plenty of big, sweet berries for this summer. Third, it's loads easier to harvest when there aren't a gazillion shoots out there with the fruit-bearing canes, hiding berries amongst the leaves, making it hard to reach your hand into the thicket.

In fall, thin next year's fruit-bearing canes again. Get rid of the spindly canes. Save the strong, sturdy canes. If you didn't get around to eliminating this year's fruit-bearing canes earlier, do that in fall too. If you expect naughty deer to invade your berry patch, or if you're worried about snow and ice harming your canes, don't prune as severely in fall, but do part of the job in fall and finish your pruning/thinning in spring. But the general rule of thumb is not to have fruit-bearing canes any closer to each other than 6-8" in any direction. If you're starting out your patch, and set down roots 18" apart as you're told to do, then you can have 2-4 canes coming up from the one set of roots, assuming you've got 12-15" between clumps of canes. When you've got your raspberry bed established, you'll want it to be rather solidly spaced, about 12" wide and who-knows-how-long. If you have more than one row of canes, make sure there is ample space between the rows for you to move, hoe, prune, and harvest.

The hardest part of raising raspberries is all the killing. It's so important to thin out baby plants, chop off plants that appear to have potential, and not try to grow too many canes, thinking that "more canes equals more berries." Nope. It doesn't work that way.

I have another week or so before my raspberries ripen. In the meantime, I need to grab the cherries off the tree before the birds beat me to 'em. Visions of pie are dancing in my head.

God the Judge

"He will come to judge the quick and the dead."

Early in life, Luther quaked in his boots, fearing the Judge. We, too, sometimes wonder if God is going to smash us like a bug; we know we deserve it.

Plead my cause and redeem me;
revive me according to Your word. (Psalm 119:149).

Who pleads my cause? Depending on what the cause is, it might be my PR department or my defense attorney. Isn't it lovely that God is both my judge and the one pleading for me? It sounds like the prosecutor/accuser doesn't stand a chance!

Too Much Work?

The receptionists at the doctor's office were chatting about their weekend. One was the honoree at a baby shower. She was talking about her "haul." It was amazing to hear all the stuff that a baby "needs." Do babies really need a dozen cute outfits? Don't they pretty much live in onesies or jammies?

The other receptionist was telling about her weekend. On Saturday she mowed the lawn, did five loads of laundry, and made a cucumber salad. The first receptionist was astounded. How could anybody get that much accomplished in one day? The receptionist who spent her Saturday with chores admitted that she was entirely wiped out and so spent her Sunday doing absolutely nothing but sitting with her husband by the fire, relaxing.

I often berate myself for not getting enough done, for not being hard-working enough. But five loads of laundry and mowing and making one dish sounds like a typical (or possibly light) day of chores to me. Maybe I'm not as lazy as I think.

And maybe this explains why so many people have time for amusements (and can't understand that I don't). What I don't understand is what they're doing (or more accurately, not doing) that they have so much free time.

Curiosity -- Good or Bad?

It's a whole lot easier to homeschool a kid who's bursting with curiosity. They must know what's inside that book! They must understand how this-or-that concept ties in with a scientific principle! They must read more more more [non-fiction] when they come across tidbits and factoids in a story they're reading! They must play with a new building toy or science kit until they've got all the combinations and permutations figured out!

However ... I have also noticed that my kids who have less curiosity are also the kids who tend to be more content.

Some of my homeschooling friends talk about their FOMS disease (fear of missing something). It can lead people to spend too much time with friends online, or too much time listening to the news and trying to solve the world's problems, or too much time wondering what's the scoop on Facebook (whether it's a fight or an inside joke). I have had a terrible case of FOMS; I have had all my life; I am [sloooowly] getting better as I realize how comfortable it is to be in the garden or reading to Maggie when other people are in an online uproar.

So, it may be harder to do your schoolwork when you're not driven with curiosity. But if it means it's easier to be content and to not be a buttinsky, maybe that lack of curiosity will have some very good results later in life.

Bible-Story Schedule for 2011-12 School Year

If you're interested in a Learn-By-Heart schedule already put together for the next school year, there's one available at peacesussex.org.


In a pamphlet about our congregation, "providing Congregation at Prayer" is one of the bullet-points under "Pastoral Care" -- along with making shut-in calls and providing private confession and absolution. Yes, it's that important!

OB Care and Trusting God

Once upon a time, it was not uncommon for women to die from pregnancy or childbirth. Once upon a time, babies with birth defects died within their first year of life. Once upon a time, people died from infection.

Today we have drugs and bed-rest that can stop early labor. We have surgeries to save mothers whose lives are in danger during childbirth. Today we have surgeries that can repair birth defects that used to be fatal. Today we have antibiotics that can fend off otherwise deadly infection.

Once upon a time, when it was more routine for women and children to die, God was still there, still protecting, still guarding. When their last hour came, God graciously took them from this valley of sorrow to Himself in heaven. Furthermore, God certainly gave daily bread to their families even after mothers died. God did not abandon them, even when temporal life was ended prematurely.

Today doctors can prevent many of these deaths and defects. Doesn't God do this healing work through the doctors, through c-sections, through pitocin, through transplants, through transfusions, through penicillin? Do these medical procedures mean we're "playing God"? Jehovah's Witnesses might say so, but Christians don't.

So today we have women who have survived pregnancy and childbirth with scars. Decades ago, without medical intervention, such women would have perished. But today they live. Today we have parents caring for special-needs kids who, decades ago, would have perished. But today they live, and the parents rejoice.

Without medical intervention, these families would have been broken by death. It seems odd to me that there are Christians who receive some kinds of medical care with thanksgiving, but reject another type of medical care [that is, non-abortifacient contraceptives]. Why do we consider it "trusting God" when doctors do surgery to prevent imminent death, but think it's "not trusting God" to prevent a pregnancy that is quite likely to result in grave danger to mother and child?

The Creation of the World

The Old Testament reading last Sunday [in the three-year series] was Genesis 1. It's about God making all the stuff.

This week I heard it differently. When God made the land, the dust, He was making the stuff of which He would make man, knowing that He would one day become Man. When He created the plants of the field, He was making the trees. Centuries later, some of those trees would be used to build an ark that saved Noah's family. Some more centuries later, one of those trees would be the cross on which He was hung to die. At the creation, He made grape vines which produced fruit after its own kind, so that today we still have grape vines, bearing grapes that become wine, that become His blood on the altar, that makes us immortal.

The stuff He was creating way back at the start isn't just the stuff that we see, that we use, that we eat, that we burn for fuel. The stuff He was making was HIS stuff, the stuff He uses to save, the stuff He uses to bring us to Himself.

Scummy Shower Curtain

No matter how often I washed that shower curtain, the hem of it just stayed icky.

Today I attacked with a three-pronged assault. First I squirted a thin line of Dawn (yes, the dishwashing detergent) on the bottom 12" of the shower curtain. Then I poured on a healthy dose of cheap white vinegar. I scrubbed briefly with a brush. Then I soaked the gooey mess (Dawn and vinegar and all) in a bucket of water for an hour or so. This time it came out of the laundry without the scum, without the yellow color, without the slimy feel.

I have no idea which one of those was the Magic Wand that broke through the nastiness. But at least I know one of them (or a combination of them) is effective.

Divorce

In Lutheran circles (and in many other denominations too) we often say that there are times when it's not sinful to get a divorce. We say that a spouse who is abused can divorce without sin. We say that, if someone cheats on his wife, she is not obligated to stay married to him.

This is based on the verse in Matthew 5 where Jesus says, "Anyone who divorces his wife (except for sexual immorality) causes her to commit adultery." Does that mean it is sin-free to divorce a philanderer? Someone pointed out to me that the passage says that the man who divorces his wife causes her to commit adultery ... unless she has already made herself an adulteress by committing sexual immorality. Maybe this passage isn't the exception-to-the-divorce-rule that we think it is. Maybe, instead, it's pointing out how corrupting it is to divorce -- how there's no wiggle-room in excusing ourselves.

When a person is enduring abuse or when illicit affairs have occurred, there is a need for pastoral care. Are the people able to remain married and forgive? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing we do know. The Lord's bride went a-whoring. She abused Him. And still He loved. Still He sacrificed. Still He gave. Still He remained faithful even when she cheated on Him.

Repentance

Is amendment of life a necessary part of repentance?

I was always taught that it was. After all, are you really sorry that you stole the candy bar if you keep on stealing candy bars? Are you really sorry that you cheated on the history test if you're still offering $10 to the A-student who sits next to you in math class if he'll let you look at his paper during that test?

Maybe amendment of life is easier when it's an action than when it's a sinful word or a sinful feeling or a sinful thought. Of course, there are actions that are vices, that are addictions. It seems to me that there are plenty of situations where we can hate our sin, regret our attitude, desire to be free from it, cling to Christ's forgiveness, and still be unable to Just Stop That Sin.

Didn't Paul say something about that? "The good that I would, that I fail to do...."?

In some cases, we can gather our oomph together and control how the sin bubbles out in our actions. That's good. But it won't change the heart's mistrust. "You don't trust God," says the accuser, "and so you commit thus-and-such a sin." Will the problem be solved if you stop doing the sin? Or is the sin that you "do" a symptom of the unbelief? If so, isn't the real solution to be assured again and again of what our Savior has done to save us and make us His own dear children? What brings about amendment-of-life anyway, the law or the gospel?

Depending on Electricity

Big storm blows through. Lights go out. What now?

I could clean, right? Nope. The vacuum won't run without electricity. I can't fill a bucket of water to mop unless I have electricity to run the pump on the well.

I could sit down with Maggie and watch our TV show. Oops. No television or computer without electricity.

I could call Mom and see if she's available for a nice long chat. Oh, wait. No power means no telephone.

How about taking a long soak in a bubble bath, and doing a sudoku or reading a chapter of a book? Oops. There's that water snafu again.

Well, I have the strawberries and the sugar, and I can use a match to light the stovetop. I could make the jam. Wait -- do I want to start jam when I have no water to wash up the stickiness? Oh, and then there's sterilizing the jars. Not gonna work.

I could go weed the garden. With all the rain, the weeds should pull nicely. Oh, wait. Think how long it takes me to wash the mud off myself when I come in normally. With this amount of mud, I wouldn't even be able to open the door myself. Sure ain't gonna muddify myself when there's no water to wash my hands.

Shall I start supper? We could grill the chicken instead of roasting it. Hmm. Raw chicken. No water to rinse the meat or to wash my hands and the cutting board. Not a good plan. I'm feeling very much in need of water....

NO! Do NOT open the refrigerator and let the cold out, you kids!
NO! Do NOT flush the toilet! We have only one flush left until the electricity comes back on.

Look at those squirrels out there, running around in the wet grass, playing in the recently returned sunshine. Look at the birds out there, nabbing worms, not at all confounded by the lack of electricity.

Hey, I need to change a load of laundry. As I head toward the steps, I remember that my washer and dryer run on electricity.

Maybe I should call the power company's automated line and see if they've figured out how long this outage is expected to last. As I pick up the phone and find a dead line, I remember that I have to haul out the tracfone and use a couple of expensive precious minutes. And ... I discover they have no clue how long it will be until the power is restored.

Maybe we should head to town, making use of the plumbing and computers at the library, and then eat at Tony's. We head to the car, reach for the garage-door opener, and then remember. I guess we'll drive the van that's sitting in the driveway.



It was always easier to get through a power outage when I was growing up. At least we still had phones and water.

Matthew 8:4

Jesus healed the leper and then told him not to tell anybody but to go show himself to the priest, and offer the sacrifice that the law required, "as a testimony to them."

Now, I'm not going to pretend that I know what is supposed to be the testimony (the healing? the sacrifice? the obedience?) nor to whom the testimony is given (the people nearby? the guy's family? the priests?).

But as I pondered those things, it crossed my mind that the priests must have been seeing an awful lot of healings. Yes, the priests had heard what was up with John's preaching. And then Jesus' preaching. And all those people going out to be baptized. But they also had all sorts of people coming to the temple to "show themselves to the priests" that the healings might be verified and the sacrifices might be made.

It almost makes a person suspect that God set up those purification laws in the Old Testament to ensure that the priests in Jesus' day would be faced with evidence after evidence after evidence that some dude was busy doing all those things that the scriptures said the messiah would do.

Today's Laugh

Katie posted on her Facebook page
about what Alia (age 2½) was playing:

Today the mommy penguin said to the daddy penguin,
"We're doing the Y O N O"
to which the daddy responded,
"No, I like the S E S E S E S."

I'm thinking we maybe go to the P A R K and the L I B R A R Y too much.



Oh no, oh no. She's catching on to our scheming ways!

Math: Right-Brainers or Left-Brainers

For those of you who have a hard time keeping it straight, left-brained is the orderly, rule-oriented side of the brain, and right-brained is the creative, free-thinking side of the brain.

Conservative people tend to value the school-way to do math. "Do this step. Memorize these facts. Drill these facts like crazy. Follow this step next. No, you can't do it that way! Do it this way instead." When you're dealing with a classroom full of children whose needs must all be met as best as possible, when you have children who annually change from one teacher to the next, it helps to have standardization in the math program.

Some teachers and curriculum-planners have tried to bring reform to that staid, old-fashioned, rule-oriented way to do math. People may have conniption fits over the changes. "It won't work. That's not the way to teach." Both sides have their points. The old way of teaching math leaves most kids without understanding of what's truly going on with their computations. On the other hand, with the newer ways of teaching math, there are problems. There's too much instability as kids change teachers annually. Kids mature at different rates, and teachers become impatient for "results" (that is, good scores on the standardized tests) instead of developing math-brains and math-smarts. Occasionally, teachers will even go so far in wanting kids to "understand the process" that they give equal credence to right and wrong answers. If a teacher doesn't understand math, she's going to have a booger of a time helping kids to understand math. And so, sometimes the best a school can aim for is to give up on math, but to make sure the kids can manipulate their numbers and do their arithmetic.

And, YES, there is a difference between arithmetic and mathematics.

Arithmetic is a tool. Being adept at arithmetic involves not only some understanding of what's going on with the numbers and why they work the way they do, but it also involves memorizing addition tables and multiplication tables and some formulas. Becoming good at arithmetic involves enough practice and drill that processing those numbers becomes simple.

But math? Ahhhh. Math is beautiful. Math is like art. Math is creative. Mathematics explains and explores and delves and marvels.

Amazingly enough, arithmetic is NOT necessary to understanding mathematics. Kids can begin to understand decimals and negative numbers before they've done the grunt-work of learning their addition and multiplication facts. Kids may begin to toy with number theory before they can earn A's and B's on their third-grade math worksheets. Kids know something about fractions before they've learned to count to twenty. Kids can wonder at the concept of infinity before they've learned that 6x5=30.

Good math teachers want their kids to learn (eventually) to do their arithmetic painlessly. Arithmetic is a vital tool for mathematicians. But as Penrose and Marilyn Burns and Sir Cumference will show, mathematics is a treasure over which little hearts can delight ... even prior to having mastered simple arithmetic!

Teaching math is like teaching reading. You can teach a kid his phonics and he may be able to decode words, but the higher priority is to teach him to cherish books and reading. Phonics is merely a tool. Same for math. Teach the left-brained arithmetic (hopefully on a timetable that fits the individual child), but don't let arithmetic sap the child of his wonderment over mathematics.

Classical Education

Ever since classical education became popular again, I've been trying to wrap my mind around what it is. Some people tell me that I'm a classical educator. Others say I'm not. I can't figure out who has the "naming rights" to say what is and isn't "classical."

One thing I do know. I like my congregation's school, and it's definitely known as a classical academy. I like how the teachers and students interact. I love how the staff recognizes that they draw their authority from the parents, and don't see the parents as the ones there to support the school. I like many of the materials they use at our school; their list of books looks remarkably similar to mine (except for math and grammar). I love that our school has chapel every day and great catechesis.

The last couple of weeks, I've been editing a project for the school. Over and over again, the materials talk about "training a child to think." Even when the materials tell about Latin class or memorizing math factoids, it's always with "teaching them to THINK" in view.

This makes me wonder if the ability to think critically is the main determinant of what constitutes "classical education." And if so, would those who consider themselves "classical" see others (who use very different methods to achieve thinkingness) as classical too?

catch-all clutter

Andrew received his financial aid package from the college. His tuition will be covered, and he'll have plenty of money left over for books, commuting, and maybe even a little extra. Woo hoo!

Two years. "Thou wast their rock, their fortress and their might. Thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight. Thou in the darkness drear their one true light. Alleluia!"

My kombucha is taking 2-3 weeks to brew. I don't have enough brew jars, so I started a triple-batch this morning to go with the standard five jars sitting on the brewing shelf. That ought to catch me up.

What's up, anyway, with these budgets the college financial-aid guys allow for the kids? The budget has $100/week for a student's spending money. I mean, I realize people need to buy socks or go to the doctor or other stuff like that. But $100/week? I think that's a lot of Friday-night pizza and beer....

I used to be a news junkie. Now I'm an ostrich with my head in the sand. Pastor Esget explained it perfectly.

There are gobs and gobs of itty-bitty green strawberries out there in the garden amongst all the pretty little strawberry flowers. Yummy! The cherry tree is loaded too. Another bunch o' yummy! (But when am I going to have time to pick them and put them up? Trying to stave off panic....)

We're going to a graduation party this after. It's for a young man at our old church. I just love spending time with this family!

Do you know that if you don't go to the grocery store for 3 or 4 weeks, you end up very very short of food? (I know, I know, you're stunned with my discovery....)

Catechism Olympics (for the final day of school at our congregation's academy) was Friday morning. Before work, I had time to enjoy watching about 30 minutes worth. What a blast!

Gary bought a couple of parts for the old lawnmower that we were considering junking in fall of 2009. He said it took him a couple of minutes to install the parts, and now the machine is running like a dream. Hooray for Mr Handy-man!

I worked with a floater yesterday (someone who "floats" from branch to branch, substituting for people on vacation or ill). We'd never worked together before, so we were getting to know each other. She's in the teacher-ed program at her college, so a very interesting conversation ensued when she learned I'd spent 25+ years homeschooling.

I'm not done typing, but the people I live with are asking me, "Are you ready yet? Are you ready to go?" so I think I shall hush and head off to a party.

(I miss blogging. My brain is overfull and I want to download into my pensieve.)

Carpal Tunnel

Arnica is supposed to be very good for healing bruises. While looking for suggestions on dealing with carpal-tunnel pain, I ran across a recommendation for arnica ointment. Carpal tunnel isn't a bruise, but I can see why something that's good for bruises might be effective. I bought some Arniflora Arnica Gel from my friend's store.

This is wonderful stuff! I gave my partially used tube to my Daughter-of-the-Aching-Wrist, keeping a smidge in a container so that I'm not arnica-less until I can buy another tube. I'm becoming so accustomed to lack-of-pain recently that it's a rude awakening when I forget to smear on a bit of the ointment.

Flexi-8

My friend Angie recently mentioned a hair accessory which I have quickly fallen in love with. The Flexi-8 comes in seven sizes, small enough to hold a tiny amount of hair (for pulling a small amount of hair back from your face), all the way up to a large enough clip to hold long, thick hair in a twisted French knot.

The clips are beautiful, long-lasting, and very easy to use.
I was also pleased with the company's service.

I'm done with short hair. I may look better with short hair, but it's too much trouble to keep getting the haircuts and doing the daily styling thing. Putting my hair up in a scrunchy looks too sporty for work. Putting my hair up in a bun takes too much finagling with bobby pins. Putting my hair up in a French braid is okay, but it takes a little longer than I want to spend [hey, I want to spend all of 23 seconds doing my hair each morning!] and a French braid is a pain to undo when you stupidly perch your glasses on the top of your head again, and the nose-pads get tangled in your locks again, and you can't get your glasses off the top of your head and back onto your face. (Bald guys don't realize how easy they have it when they approach Bifocals-Age!)

The Flexi-8 solves all these problems for me. I should be selling these things, I love 'em so much.

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.