Alia has been leery around Pastor. He has a beard; she doesn't like beards. She knows enough of her catechism to recite and get several stars on the chart. But she won't do it. Today (again!) Katie thought she might. But no. Alia didn't want to talk to Pastor. He tried engaging her, playing around a bit, but no, she would alternately giggle and cry.
And then, when the stroller was packed up and Katie was headed out the door, she started with, "Hey, Pastor!" He was trying to do several things at the moment, as well as trying to talk to the organist about one thing and the secretary about another. But Alia persisted in a quiet little voice, "Hey, Pastor! Hey! Pastor!!" I flagged him down and pointed to the child.
She began prattling on to him about going to the library, that they were having a picnic-storyhour today, and they had blankets that Nanna gave them. He asked about what they were eating, and she talked to him about that. Pretty soon, the conversation ended, and Alia left with a smile.
She didn't recite today. But she had a conversation with Pastor. This is a happy thing!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Who Is Like Me?
Driving today, I hit up different radio stations. Every one of them was discussing the political maneuvering du jour. Apparently one side wants to convince me that a certain candidate is a gazillionaire, so he's not like me. He has Swiss bank accounts, so he's not like me. He travels the world, so he's not like me. He hasn't had to worry about being laid off, not having an income, so he's not like me. And so forth. And so on. And so on. And so on ....
Now, whether I like or dislike this rich dude, whether I agree with him or with his detractors, that's irrelevant for the moment. What I noticed is one underlying presumption in this argument:
What's "like me" is assumed to be "what I have."
Silly me -- I thought that "what's like me" had a whole lot more to do with my values, my thoughts, my opinions, and my perspective on societal issues and political issues and religious issues.
So, what makes somebody "like me"?
Having the same stuff?
Or having the same ideas?
That in itself speaks volumes about the perspectives of those who are trying to woo me.
Now, whether I like or dislike this rich dude, whether I agree with him or with his detractors, that's irrelevant for the moment. What I noticed is one underlying presumption in this argument:
What's "like me" is assumed to be "what I have."
Silly me -- I thought that "what's like me" had a whole lot more to do with my values, my thoughts, my opinions, and my perspective on societal issues and political issues and religious issues.
So, what makes somebody "like me"?
Having the same stuff?
Or having the same ideas?
That in itself speaks volumes about the perspectives of those who are trying to woo me.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Disliking Hymns?
Again and again, parents & Sunday School teachers & pastors find that they can influence likes. Generally, we like what we know. Teach the kids "I Just Wanna Be a Sheep [baa baa baa baa]" and be enthusiastic over that campsong, and the kids will like it. Teach them "Triune God, Be Thou Our Stay" and be enthusiastic over the hymn, and the kids will like that.
And don't you deny it. That's the whole psychology behind pop musicians trying to finagle the DJ's into giving their songs a lot of play-time. What people know is what we end up liking.
Normally, people aren't as fond of a hymn the first time they hear it as they are the tenth time. As we learn the tune and have a chance to meditate more and more on the text, normally the hymn grows on us.
So, then, if I find myself disliking a hymn the more we sing it, might that mean there's something wrong with that hymn?
And don't you deny it. That's the whole psychology behind pop musicians trying to finagle the DJ's into giving their songs a lot of play-time. What people know is what we end up liking.
Normally, people aren't as fond of a hymn the first time they hear it as they are the tenth time. As we learn the tune and have a chance to meditate more and more on the text, normally the hymn grows on us.
So, then, if I find myself disliking a hymn the more we sing it, might that mean there's something wrong with that hymn?
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Christ and the Ten Commandments
Okay, we know that the Ten Commandments show us how we have sinned so that we know we need a Savior.
We probably also know that the Ten Commandments show us what love looks like. It shows us what Jesus did, how He lived, and what a holy life looks like.
But there's also something else the Ten Commandments show us about Jesus. Not just the good He did. But also the injustice He suffered.
"You shall not kill." We killed Him.
"You shall not commit adultery." We so often go a-whoring after other gods. We didn't want our Bridegroom.
"You shall not bear false witness." People told plenty of lies about Jesus during His earthly ministry. And during His trial. And during His crucifixion. And people are still telling lies about Him today.
And so on and so forth with the other commandments. They do indeed show us the good He did. And they show us the bad we have done to each other. But the commandments also show us, in the cross, the bad that the Son of God endured from us, for us.
We probably also know that the Ten Commandments show us what love looks like. It shows us what Jesus did, how He lived, and what a holy life looks like.
But there's also something else the Ten Commandments show us about Jesus. Not just the good He did. But also the injustice He suffered.
"You shall not kill." We killed Him.
"You shall not commit adultery." We so often go a-whoring after other gods. We didn't want our Bridegroom.
"You shall not bear false witness." People told plenty of lies about Jesus during His earthly ministry. And during His trial. And during His crucifixion. And people are still telling lies about Him today.
And so on and so forth with the other commandments. They do indeed show us the good He did. And they show us the bad we have done to each other. But the commandments also show us, in the cross, the bad that the Son of God endured from us, for us.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
WATER
I love plumbing. I love it when I can wash my hands by turning a faucet handle, and the water just comes pouring out the spigot. I love being able to flush when we use the toilet. I love being able to do one load of laundry, instead of cramming all the laundry in during the evening while we're taking showers. I love being able to wet a washcloth to wipe crumbs off the kitchen counter.
And we don't have water all over the basement from leaks. We still have an intermittent problem with the hot-water tank, occasionally getting small puddles on the basement floor. But the well's pressure tank is intact and operative -- and not spewing water. And the well's pump is repaired. After nine days of struggling with water problems, I am again appreciative of the joys of indoor plumbing that works! Ahhhhh.....
And we don't have water all over the basement from leaks. We still have an intermittent problem with the hot-water tank, occasionally getting small puddles on the basement floor. But the well's pressure tank is intact and operative -- and not spewing water. And the well's pump is repaired. After nine days of struggling with water problems, I am again appreciative of the joys of indoor plumbing that works! Ahhhhh.....
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The Whole Truth
Remember the story of the woman with the flow of blood? When she touched the hem of Jesus' garment, she was healed. When Jesus asked, "Who touched me?" she came forward with fear and trembling and "told him the whole truth."
I always thought that meant she owned up to having been the one who touched Him, the one to whom His power went out. Or maybe "the whole truth" even included her history, and what kind of medical problem she had, and how long she'd been suffering with it.
But that's not really the whole truth, is it?
The whole truth is all that and more: That she's a sinner. That she was unclean. That she made Him unclean by touching Him. That she trusted in Him to be merciful. That she knew He could heal and that He was a compassionate lord who desires to heal. That He came for her. That's the whole truth.
I always thought that meant she owned up to having been the one who touched Him, the one to whom His power went out. Or maybe "the whole truth" even included her history, and what kind of medical problem she had, and how long she'd been suffering with it.
But that's not really the whole truth, is it?
The whole truth is all that and more: That she's a sinner. That she was unclean. That she made Him unclean by touching Him. That she trusted in Him to be merciful. That she knew He could heal and that He was a compassionate lord who desires to heal. That He came for her. That's the whole truth.
The Customer from Hell
It was me. I know the salesmen were talking about how horrible I was, how unreasonable, consoling the poor dude who got stuck with me. I'm sure the salesman's wife got an earful tonight when the guy got home from work.
Philip has been car shopping. Late Saturday he found one that looked like a decent prospect. He asked me to check it out with him on Monday after work. But with my work schedule, it seemed better if I checked it out Monday morning when I went that direction for groceries anyway. If it looked good, I could take it to our mechanic to check over. Then we could discuss it Monday evening and, if all things panned out, he could go ahead and buy it.
The trouble started when I asked to take it to my mechanic. Now, understand that this is one of the biggest car dealers in the metro area. The salesmen assured me that their cars are all perfectly safe, sound, solid, reliable. They wouldn't sell anything less.
Yeah, right. He's a SALESman.
I talked to our mechanic to see if he was available this afternoon. I asked him about the guy's claim. He actually busted out laughing. Truly. He did. Which confirmed my resolve. After finishing my errands, I went back to the car dealer and said I would like to take it to my mechanic. The salesman assured me that it was unnecessary but that they had nothing to hide, so we'd go ahead and arrange it. He said all I had to do was put down a $100 deposit and sign the sales contract.
Excuse me? Sign the sales contract? I didn't say I wanted to buy it. I said I wanted to have the mechanic check it over, so as to gain information that would help us decide whether Philip wanted to buy it.
Well, he couldn't just let me take a car.
Understandable. But he wanted me to sign a sales contract? With a price agreed upon? And everything filled out and signed? I told him I'd have to read it. Thoroughly. And that I wasn't okay with it. Wasn't there any other way? Nope, there wasn't.
So I'm reading the contract. Slowly. Carefully. He's getting frustrated. I'm getting frustrated. I asked if they could drive the car to my mechanic, because I understood they might not trust me to take the car off the lot. Nope, they couldn't do that either. I had to sign the sales contract. When I got to the bottom of the minute-print contract, irritated, near tears, frustrated, I saw the line that said everything in fine(r) print on the back of the contract was being agreed to too. WHAT? I said aloud, "You mean I have to read the whole back of this thing too?!" And I heaved a huge sigh.
The salesman told me repeatedly, "You're overthinking this. You're looking at this too deeply. Just sign the paper, and you can take the car to your mechanic." And I kept responding, "This is a legal document that obligates me to pay you X-thousand dollars. This is not a minor deal." The salesman assured me that it was no such thing, that they wouldn't hold me to it if I didn't want the car, yada yada yada.
Hey, what is a contract then?
In exasperation he finally threw up his hands and said, "Well, fine, if you don't want the car, just leave." Boy. Salesmen don't do that. I responded, still near tears, "That's just what my husband told me when I phoned him about this situation."
He talked to the manager, came back to the desk, and told me to just take the car. Just take it. Just go. Here are the keys. Just tell me where you're taking it and what time to expect you back. And remember, since there's no contract signed, I could bring the car back, having decided we want it, and find that he's already sold it to somebody else. He intimated that was a risk I really did not want to take.
Really? Hey, I was way more comfortable with that risk than with the risk of signing a contract that this SALESman claimed wouldn't be binding.
Unreasonable of me to not want to sign the contract to buy? Gary didn't think so. Gary asked some co-workers, and they all seemed to think it was unreasonable of the dealership to want a signed contract before having the car checked out by a trusted mechanic. But that is not what the salesmen thought.
So I was the nasty one. The one who wanted to read the contract before signing. (How unreasonable of me!) The one who didn't want to be arm-twisted into making a commitment that they insisted was no commitment. How rude of me.
Y'know, I'm not likely to meander through their lot the next time we start looking for a car.
Nearing the end of the day, it appears that Philip is buying that car. Our mechanic pointed out that the car is in pretty good shape overall but would need rear brakes. So presumably the dealership will be checking out the brakes tomorrow. If the brakes were missed in the safety inspection, the business will fix them. If not, and if the car is legally able to be sold, they will give him a voucher for brake repair to be used later, at their cost, with no profit to them. But we have to wait another day to see if this is how things actually pan out.
Philip has been car shopping. Late Saturday he found one that looked like a decent prospect. He asked me to check it out with him on Monday after work. But with my work schedule, it seemed better if I checked it out Monday morning when I went that direction for groceries anyway. If it looked good, I could take it to our mechanic to check over. Then we could discuss it Monday evening and, if all things panned out, he could go ahead and buy it.
The trouble started when I asked to take it to my mechanic. Now, understand that this is one of the biggest car dealers in the metro area. The salesmen assured me that their cars are all perfectly safe, sound, solid, reliable. They wouldn't sell anything less.
Yeah, right. He's a SALESman.
I talked to our mechanic to see if he was available this afternoon. I asked him about the guy's claim. He actually busted out laughing. Truly. He did. Which confirmed my resolve. After finishing my errands, I went back to the car dealer and said I would like to take it to my mechanic. The salesman assured me that it was unnecessary but that they had nothing to hide, so we'd go ahead and arrange it. He said all I had to do was put down a $100 deposit and sign the sales contract.
Excuse me? Sign the sales contract? I didn't say I wanted to buy it. I said I wanted to have the mechanic check it over, so as to gain information that would help us decide whether Philip wanted to buy it.
Well, he couldn't just let me take a car.
Understandable. But he wanted me to sign a sales contract? With a price agreed upon? And everything filled out and signed? I told him I'd have to read it. Thoroughly. And that I wasn't okay with it. Wasn't there any other way? Nope, there wasn't.
So I'm reading the contract. Slowly. Carefully. He's getting frustrated. I'm getting frustrated. I asked if they could drive the car to my mechanic, because I understood they might not trust me to take the car off the lot. Nope, they couldn't do that either. I had to sign the sales contract. When I got to the bottom of the minute-print contract, irritated, near tears, frustrated, I saw the line that said everything in fine(r) print on the back of the contract was being agreed to too. WHAT? I said aloud, "You mean I have to read the whole back of this thing too?!" And I heaved a huge sigh.
The salesman told me repeatedly, "You're overthinking this. You're looking at this too deeply. Just sign the paper, and you can take the car to your mechanic." And I kept responding, "This is a legal document that obligates me to pay you X-thousand dollars. This is not a minor deal." The salesman assured me that it was no such thing, that they wouldn't hold me to it if I didn't want the car, yada yada yada.
Hey, what is a contract then?
In exasperation he finally threw up his hands and said, "Well, fine, if you don't want the car, just leave." Boy. Salesmen don't do that. I responded, still near tears, "That's just what my husband told me when I phoned him about this situation."
He talked to the manager, came back to the desk, and told me to just take the car. Just take it. Just go. Here are the keys. Just tell me where you're taking it and what time to expect you back. And remember, since there's no contract signed, I could bring the car back, having decided we want it, and find that he's already sold it to somebody else. He intimated that was a risk I really did not want to take.
Really? Hey, I was way more comfortable with that risk than with the risk of signing a contract that this SALESman claimed wouldn't be binding.
Unreasonable of me to not want to sign the contract to buy? Gary didn't think so. Gary asked some co-workers, and they all seemed to think it was unreasonable of the dealership to want a signed contract before having the car checked out by a trusted mechanic. But that is not what the salesmen thought.
So I was the nasty one. The one who wanted to read the contract before signing. (How unreasonable of me!) The one who didn't want to be arm-twisted into making a commitment that they insisted was no commitment. How rude of me.
Y'know, I'm not likely to meander through their lot the next time we start looking for a car.
Nearing the end of the day, it appears that Philip is buying that car. Our mechanic pointed out that the car is in pretty good shape overall but would need rear brakes. So presumably the dealership will be checking out the brakes tomorrow. If the brakes were missed in the safety inspection, the business will fix them. If not, and if the car is legally able to be sold, they will give him a voucher for brake repair to be used later, at their cost, with no profit to them. But we have to wait another day to see if this is how things actually pan out.
Monday, July 09, 2012
The Wonders of a Washcloth
Someone who shall remain unnamed was complaining to me a few months ago about the bath towel getting stinky. I kept wondering how a towel could be taking on body odor when you just washed yourself, and you're clean, and the towel is only for drying. A puzzle to me!
I was raised to use a soapy washcloth in the shower or bath. Some people use just a bar of soap to lather up. Hey, I remember seeing those Zest commercials back in the day! I always wondered where the washcloth was! In these recent toasty summer days (in which people may be adding a quickie-shower or two to the regular daily shower) I made a discovery. When you rub yourself with the bar of soap, lathering up, you don't get as clean as when you use a washcloth. Stinky sweaty body doesn't come as clean. And the towel takes some of that stink from the body. Ick.
Hopefully this means we have discovered how to keep the towels fresh for more than a couple of days.
I was raised to use a soapy washcloth in the shower or bath. Some people use just a bar of soap to lather up. Hey, I remember seeing those Zest commercials back in the day! I always wondered where the washcloth was! In these recent toasty summer days (in which people may be adding a quickie-shower or two to the regular daily shower) I made a discovery. When you rub yourself with the bar of soap, lathering up, you don't get as clean as when you use a washcloth. Stinky sweaty body doesn't come as clean. And the towel takes some of that stink from the body. Ick.
Hopefully this means we have discovered how to keep the towels fresh for more than a couple of days.
Sunday, July 08, 2012
Don't Put on Two Tunics
Jesus sends out the apostles to preach (Mark 6). He tells them not to take money. Just a staff and the sandals on their feet. "Don't put on two tunics." Just the one.
There is only one robe of righteousness. Paul tells us to "put on" Christ (Galatians 3). Yeah, yeah, I know -- Jesus really was telling them not to take a change of clothes but only to take what they had on their backs. But still ... don't you suppose it might have a dual meaning?
There is only one robe of righteousness. Paul tells us to "put on" Christ (Galatians 3). Yeah, yeah, I know -- Jesus really was telling them not to take a change of clothes but only to take what they had on their backs. But still ... don't you suppose it might have a dual meaning?
Thursday, July 05, 2012
The Opposite Problem
When Herod wanted to know where to find this interloper, this baby that the Magi were wanting to worship, he asked the dudes who knew the Scriptures. Pastor pointed out in class today that, even though he didn't believe, Herod knew that the Bible would tell him the correct answer to what he wanted to know.
That happens again and again. Balak didn't believe in the Lord, but he paid off one of the Lord's prophets to curse the Lord's people. The people of Jericho didn't believe in the Lord, but they knew what the Lord had been doing on behalf of His people. There are many other examples of unbelievers who knew the Bible to be a reliable source of historic information.
But look at what is rampant in the Church today. Today we have Christians (who presumably do believe in the Lord) who don't believe the Scriptures to be reliable information. "Did God really say...?" They don't believe that Jesus did miracles. They don't believe that Jonah was swallowed by the large fish. They don't believe in a six-day creation. They don't believe the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea in the miraculous way described in Exodus.
Isn't it weird that even unbelievers used to know the veracity of the Scriptures, and today even the believers do not believe them? The devil is surely pattin' himself on the back over this one.
That happens again and again. Balak didn't believe in the Lord, but he paid off one of the Lord's prophets to curse the Lord's people. The people of Jericho didn't believe in the Lord, but they knew what the Lord had been doing on behalf of His people. There are many other examples of unbelievers who knew the Bible to be a reliable source of historic information.
But look at what is rampant in the Church today. Today we have Christians (who presumably do believe in the Lord) who don't believe the Scriptures to be reliable information. "Did God really say...?" They don't believe that Jesus did miracles. They don't believe that Jonah was swallowed by the large fish. They don't believe in a six-day creation. They don't believe the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea in the miraculous way described in Exodus.
Isn't it weird that even unbelievers used to know the veracity of the Scriptures, and today even the believers do not believe them? The devil is surely pattin' himself on the back over this one.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Chuza
In the movie Passion of the Christ, I really like how we see Christians in Pilate's court and in Herod's court. They're there, observing with grief, but still serving their employer in their stations of life. Seeing as how the apostles had disappeared, some other disciples reported what happened during Jesus' trials before Herod and Pilate.
Luke 8 tells us that Mary Magdalene, Susannah, and Johanna (the wife of Chuza who was Herod's steward) hung around Jesus and the guys and provided monetarily for the group.
One of our recent Bible stories for daily prayer was the story of John's beheading. But Peter wasn't there at the party. And since Mark was from Judah and not Galilee, he wouldn't have been there either. Somebody who was there had to report that story. And that probably would have been Chuza.
This goes under the category of "We are not Enthusiasts. The Holy Spirit works through means."
Luke 8 tells us that Mary Magdalene, Susannah, and Johanna (the wife of Chuza who was Herod's steward) hung around Jesus and the guys and provided monetarily for the group.
One of our recent Bible stories for daily prayer was the story of John's beheading. But Peter wasn't there at the party. And since Mark was from Judah and not Galilee, he wouldn't have been there either. Somebody who was there had to report that story. And that probably would have been Chuza.
This goes under the category of "We are not Enthusiasts. The Holy Spirit works through means."
Monday, July 02, 2012
The Nice Thing about My Job
My real work --the work at home-- is never-ending. It's nigh onto impossible to catch up on the cooking, the cleaning, the homeschooling, the laundry, the repairs, the errands, the gardening. Sometimes I'm caught up, as it were, in one of those areas. But never all of them. Never even most of them. Oh, let's get real, I can't even remember being pretty much up-to-current in more than two of those things at once. That gets wearying.
The easy thing about going away to a job is that it's clear-cut. You go punch the time clock. You do your work. Sometimes there you get everything done. [gasp!] And then you might be able to twiddle your thumbs or surreptitiously flip through a magazine until the next customer arrives and you snap back to efficiency again. And at the end of the day, when you're done, you're actually done.
So after a week of going to my paid-job every day, now that I'm home again, I'm overwhelmed. Where to start?! It's especially hard to make decisions and to get motivated when you're being overwhelmed by some other things in life. And come the end of the day, even if I zip and zap and work like a maniac, the undone items on the to-do lists will still stretch before me.
So have any of you found solutions to this? How do you live with the perpetual knowledge that you're not doing what needs to be done? Or is the only real solution to reduce the amount of jobs you're trying to do? (Such as ditching the garden or quitting the job or hiring a maid?)
The easy thing about going away to a job is that it's clear-cut. You go punch the time clock. You do your work. Sometimes there you get everything done. [gasp!] And then you might be able to twiddle your thumbs or surreptitiously flip through a magazine until the next customer arrives and you snap back to efficiency again. And at the end of the day, when you're done, you're actually done.
So after a week of going to my paid-job every day, now that I'm home again, I'm overwhelmed. Where to start?! It's especially hard to make decisions and to get motivated when you're being overwhelmed by some other things in life. And come the end of the day, even if I zip and zap and work like a maniac, the undone items on the to-do lists will still stretch before me.
So have any of you found solutions to this? How do you live with the perpetual knowledge that you're not doing what needs to be done? Or is the only real solution to reduce the amount of jobs you're trying to do? (Such as ditching the garden or quitting the job or hiring a maid?)
Saturday, June 30, 2012
More Water, Please
I can't seem to get caught up on dishes this past week. Nor on laundry. Nor watering the garden. Definitely can't keep up with watering the garden and the trees!
Symposium last week with lots of wonderful company. Working lots of extra hours this week. Monday is my only day off next week. (The paycheck will be nice. But when will I catch up on laundry, kitchen, and garden work?)
Somebody suggested putting a fan near the entrance to the attic, to draw some of the stifling heat out. I tried that today. Boy, it was blowing hot air! But it sounds like it should help in taking the "warm blanket" off the top of the house. (Besides, it's probably also better for the stuff that's stored up there!)
We did not mow in June. Well, Andrew did hit up part of the backyard once where the grass was getting water from the sprinkler's overreach from the garden. As Katie says, it smells like August, it looks like Augusts, it feels like August.
The wasps are building nests like crazy. Our wasps don't seem to be mean. I don't recall ever being stung here. But there are a lot of nests -- way more than I've seen before. Then we come along like dragons, stomp on their cities, kill their babies, spray poison on the adults, wreck their homes, and cause general mayhem in Waspland. So the poor homeless wasps keep trying to hang around and rebuild.
The news clip from Channel 58's coverage of the presentation at symposium is now available online. That's got nothing to do with heat and water and summerness. But I'm throwing it in this blogpost anyhow, because, well, it happened during summer. (Do ya buy that?!)
We are running the air conditioner. I know, most of you think that's a no-brainer. But WE are running the AC. We, the people who usually go for a few years between turning it on. We, who run it for only a few days during the hottest of summers. I think we're on Day #5 already, and it's still June.
Well, off to change yet another load of laundry.
Symposium last week with lots of wonderful company. Working lots of extra hours this week. Monday is my only day off next week. (The paycheck will be nice. But when will I catch up on laundry, kitchen, and garden work?)
Somebody suggested putting a fan near the entrance to the attic, to draw some of the stifling heat out. I tried that today. Boy, it was blowing hot air! But it sounds like it should help in taking the "warm blanket" off the top of the house. (Besides, it's probably also better for the stuff that's stored up there!)
We did not mow in June. Well, Andrew did hit up part of the backyard once where the grass was getting water from the sprinkler's overreach from the garden. As Katie says, it smells like August, it looks like Augusts, it feels like August.
The wasps are building nests like crazy. Our wasps don't seem to be mean. I don't recall ever being stung here. But there are a lot of nests -- way more than I've seen before. Then we come along like dragons, stomp on their cities, kill their babies, spray poison on the adults, wreck their homes, and cause general mayhem in Waspland. So the poor homeless wasps keep trying to hang around and rebuild.
The news clip from Channel 58's coverage of the presentation at symposium is now available online. That's got nothing to do with heat and water and summerness. But I'm throwing it in this blogpost anyhow, because, well, it happened during summer. (Do ya buy that?!)
We are running the air conditioner. I know, most of you think that's a no-brainer. But WE are running the AC. We, the people who usually go for a few years between turning it on. We, who run it for only a few days during the hottest of summers. I think we're on Day #5 already, and it's still June.
Well, off to change yet another load of laundry.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Red Ear Lobes
I wore earrings for about 15 years after my ears were pierced. Then I began to have occasional infections. Besides, at that point it was hard to manage jewelry. You moms known how it is. For one thing, babies would pull on the earrings. For another thing, when you can't even go to the bathroom by yourself, taking the time to put on jewelry just doesn't happen so easily.
So, eventually, I got back to wearing earrings. Or trying to. But they weren't comfortable. Every few years I decide that I want to wear those pretty, dangly, dress-up things again. So today I wore them at work. For three whole hours. Then I couldn't take the pain any more. When I took the earrings out, my ear lobes were red and swollen.
Why? [pout]
I guess I should remember this the next time I get the goofy idea to wear earrings. Maybe I should do something really outlandish and get rid of my earrings so I won't be tempted.
Bummers.
So, eventually, I got back to wearing earrings. Or trying to. But they weren't comfortable. Every few years I decide that I want to wear those pretty, dangly, dress-up things again. So today I wore them at work. For three whole hours. Then I couldn't take the pain any more. When I took the earrings out, my ear lobes were red and swollen.
Why? [pout]
I guess I should remember this the next time I get the goofy idea to wear earrings. Maybe I should do something really outlandish and get rid of my earrings so I won't be tempted.
Bummers.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
I Believe in the Holy Christian Church
Once upon a time, I was particularly ticked at some shenanigans within our beloved synod. At the same time, a dear friend of mine kept talking about the so-called "visible" and "invisible" church, and how we should be able to see the true church in one particular organization. My pastor pointed out to me the line in the creed: "I believe in the holy Christian church." He explained that the Church's holiness is an article of faith; we cannot see her holiness. He said,
Allow me to call our synod beloved, as a confession of faith in the forgiveness of sins. Just as I call you holy by virtue of Christ's righteousness, not your own. If you deny the one, you end up denying the other. If you accept the one, it might make it easier for you to accept the other.
If you deny the one, you end up denying the other.
Yes.
Monday, June 25, 2012
So, How Do You Feel About Kids?
But that's incidental to what I wanted to mention.
Katie tells me that she never goes out with my granddaughters without somebody somewhere commenting on the kids. "They're so beautiful." "What cute little girls." "Aren't they sweet?" "They're so well-behaved." "Such pretty daughters." Katie was afraid she'd sound arrogant saying it, but it is simply a fact that that's what she hears at the grocery store and the park and stuff like that. Every time.
Until Thursday.
The girls were playing in the foyer so that they didn't have to be perfectly still and quiet, but Katie could listen through the doorway while she kept an eye on the girls. The folks from Planned Parenthood came through the door, passed through the foyer and noticed the girls, and said not a word. Not one person. Every one of them kept her mouth shut. Some averted their eyes from the children. Katie said that's never happened to her before.
That silence speaks volumes.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Prayer: Asking God to Be What He Is
With the way we see prayer, it seems kinda goofy for us to pray that God be what He already is. We usually think of prayer as giving God information, asking for help, requesting stuff. But look at what David prays in Psalm 31:
Be my rock of refuge, a fortress of defense to save me. For You are my rock and my fortress.Do you suppose maybe there really is something to that thing about prayer being when we speak back to God the truths that He has already given us?
Monday, June 18, 2012
Driving and Brain Speed
Maggie doesn't drive. When she was approaching the age when kids are allowed to take drivers' ed, I couldn't put my finger on the reason why we weren't going to allow her to get behind the wheel. After the psychological evaluation she had recently, now I know why.
If your brain processes things slowly, it's hard to take in all the things you see when driving, consider not only what's happening but also what is likely to happen in the next several seconds, then make decisions about what to do with your couple-of-tons of metal, and then do it. And that would be even harder when there's extra traffic or when you're driving in an unfamiliar area, trying to watch for stop signs while navigating unknown roads to your destination.
After our IEP meeting, I've been wondering if there's something that can be done to help Maggie increase her processing speed. The IEP which the school offered doesn't really have anything designed to achieve higher processing speed. The remedial reading, writing, and math they're offering look to me as if they're trying to help her catch up to closer to "where she should be" according to the school's timetable. When I look online for information about increasing neurological processing speed, I am skeptical. Someone provides a service that purports to help increase a student's processing speed. Will it work? Or are they hawking a service that will line their pockets? How can we know?
Too often, I've seen "tests" which purport to measure a certain aspect of a person's ability. The test is supposed to represent/reveal how a person performs in one area of thinking. Then the person is trained and drilled and drilled and trained. The person improves his score on the test. But (!!!) does that mean the person has actually improved in thinking ability or reasoning ability or brain speed? Or does it just demonstrate that the person has trained his brain to do a particular task quicker? I found an online exercise for "increasing your brain's processing speed." But I'm suspicious as to whether practicing this exercise will actually increase the speed of neurological connections in any area except the one which has been rehearsed and drilled.
So what's the solution? Do we just keep plugging away with the kind of activities and books we've been using? Do we assume that trying these therapies might actually change Maggie's brain speed instead of merely speeding her up on the exercises? Will increased speed in one task generalize to increased speed in hearing & decision-making & academics & overall problem-solving? Or will this kind of therapy just take time away from activities that might be more interesting and beneficial in the long-run?
If your brain processes things slowly, it's hard to take in all the things you see when driving, consider not only what's happening but also what is likely to happen in the next several seconds, then make decisions about what to do with your couple-of-tons of metal, and then do it. And that would be even harder when there's extra traffic or when you're driving in an unfamiliar area, trying to watch for stop signs while navigating unknown roads to your destination.
After our IEP meeting, I've been wondering if there's something that can be done to help Maggie increase her processing speed. The IEP which the school offered doesn't really have anything designed to achieve higher processing speed. The remedial reading, writing, and math they're offering look to me as if they're trying to help her catch up to closer to "where she should be" according to the school's timetable. When I look online for information about increasing neurological processing speed, I am skeptical. Someone provides a service that purports to help increase a student's processing speed. Will it work? Or are they hawking a service that will line their pockets? How can we know?
Too often, I've seen "tests" which purport to measure a certain aspect of a person's ability. The test is supposed to represent/reveal how a person performs in one area of thinking. Then the person is trained and drilled and drilled and trained. The person improves his score on the test. But (!!!) does that mean the person has actually improved in thinking ability or reasoning ability or brain speed? Or does it just demonstrate that the person has trained his brain to do a particular task quicker? I found an online exercise for "increasing your brain's processing speed." But I'm suspicious as to whether practicing this exercise will actually increase the speed of neurological connections in any area except the one which has been rehearsed and drilled.
So what's the solution? Do we just keep plugging away with the kind of activities and books we've been using? Do we assume that trying these therapies might actually change Maggie's brain speed instead of merely speeding her up on the exercises? Will increased speed in one task generalize to increased speed in hearing & decision-making & academics & overall problem-solving? Or will this kind of therapy just take time away from activities that might be more interesting and beneficial in the long-run?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Dad on Moving Day
Last night, Bethany phoned. She and Evan were moving. The day was getting away from them faster than they had expected. Could we help with unpacking the U-Haul? Of course we could! We love them, and we've been altogether too little help and support to them in the 10 months they've been living in Wisconsin. (Besides, it meant a glimpse of their apartment and neighborhood. For some reason, it's terribly important to me to have a picture in my mind of the home where my loved ones are living.)
When Katie and Nathan moved to and/or from Indiana, we had help from Rheins and Caseys and a few other friends. When Katie and Nathan moved to Texas, Nathan's dad carried a lot of furniture. Bep and Evan had help from parents when they first moved to Wisconsin. When we moved here, our father-confessor took charge of packing the truck while we carried stuff out of the house to the driveway. As the mom or dad, you don't want to do too much bossing around when the grown-up kids are moving. And yet ... you want to provide assistance (and the experience you've gained through your previous moves) to the couple who's moving. And on moving day, the more assistance, the better!
My dad carried a lot of book boxes in his day. A lot of mattresses and couches and freezers. A lot clothes boxes. A whole bunch of boxes filled with toys. He tied things down. He packed things in tight. He made sure items were safe during transport. He didn't do it just for us and my siblings, but for other people too. It seems to be just one of those loving things dads (and substitute dads) do.
When Katie and Nathan moved to and/or from Indiana, we had help from Rheins and Caseys and a few other friends. When Katie and Nathan moved to Texas, Nathan's dad carried a lot of furniture. Bep and Evan had help from parents when they first moved to Wisconsin. When we moved here, our father-confessor took charge of packing the truck while we carried stuff out of the house to the driveway. As the mom or dad, you don't want to do too much bossing around when the grown-up kids are moving. And yet ... you want to provide assistance (and the experience you've gained through your previous moves) to the couple who's moving. And on moving day, the more assistance, the better!
My dad carried a lot of book boxes in his day. A lot of mattresses and couches and freezers. A lot clothes boxes. A whole bunch of boxes filled with toys. He tied things down. He packed things in tight. He made sure items were safe during transport. He didn't do it just for us and my siblings, but for other people too. It seems to be just one of those loving things dads (and substitute dads) do.
Happy Paper Clips
But now ... I've changed my mind. Those zebra-striped and tiger-striped and candy-cane-striped paper clips bring a smile to my face! I don't know why they're so cheery, but when I come across one, it sure does brighten my day!
Mark
As we've been reading Mark recently, we keep coming across crowds. There were crowds of people coming out to hear John preach. Crowds of people listening to Jesus. Crowds wanting to be healed. Crowds spilling out of the houses were He was. So many crowds that He couldn't go into a city but had to preach outside where there was more room. Crowds crowding around Him so that He couldn't get away to eat supper.
My car needed a new battery last weekend. That means I need to re-set the pre-sets on my car radio. So this week I've been scanning radio stations, trying to hunt up which ones should be tagged by my radio buttons. This morning I was checking out a station which turned out to be a Christian radio station with a Bible trivia quiz. So I stay tuned for a couple of minutes. The show concluded with a kids' Bible song about how important the Bible is, how we love the Bible, how the Bible is our delight ... because it shows us how God wants us to live.
That's it? That's what they think the Bible is full of? Rules? Behavior guidelines? Things to do to make God like you? And that's why they love it?
Those crowds (in Mark's gospel) weren't crowding around Jesus so that they could hear rules. They got plenty of that from the scribes and Pharisees. This Man did not teach like the scribes and Pharisees. He preached something different, something they hadn't heard before, something for which their hearts yearned. And the crowds poured out of the cities to hear more.
My car needed a new battery last weekend. That means I need to re-set the pre-sets on my car radio. So this week I've been scanning radio stations, trying to hunt up which ones should be tagged by my radio buttons. This morning I was checking out a station which turned out to be a Christian radio station with a Bible trivia quiz. So I stay tuned for a couple of minutes. The show concluded with a kids' Bible song about how important the Bible is, how we love the Bible, how the Bible is our delight ... because it shows us how God wants us to live.
That's it? That's what they think the Bible is full of? Rules? Behavior guidelines? Things to do to make God like you? And that's why they love it?
Those crowds (in Mark's gospel) weren't crowding around Jesus so that they could hear rules. They got plenty of that from the scribes and Pharisees. This Man did not teach like the scribes and Pharisees. He preached something different, something they hadn't heard before, something for which their hearts yearned. And the crowds poured out of the cities to hear more.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Under the Tuscan Sun
What a waste of a Friday evening!
A romantic comedy. Set in Italy. I wanted to see it years ago when it came out. I kept wanting to see it. We finally got around to watching it.
We shouldn't have.
The plot involved divorce and gays and fornicating teens. There was more sex, foul language, and nudity than I expected in a PG-13 movie. The "message" in the film came from the character who was a hedonistic actress.
And this was billed as an inspiring, uplifting, feel-good movie?
A romantic comedy. Set in Italy. I wanted to see it years ago when it came out. I kept wanting to see it. We finally got around to watching it.
We shouldn't have.
The plot involved divorce and gays and fornicating teens. There was more sex, foul language, and nudity than I expected in a PG-13 movie. The "message" in the film came from the character who was a hedonistic actress.
And this was billed as an inspiring, uplifting, feel-good movie?
Friday, June 15, 2012
Slugs in the Garden
After I planted lettuce in April, one of the big rains must have washed some of the seeds to the other end of the raised bed. Eventually, lettuce was popping up in places I hadn't sown seed. I left it to grow.
The lettuce I did plant needed thinning. Week after week I didn't get to it. We came home from vacation to ready-to-pick heads of Romaine. The ones at the far end of the garden --where there was plenty of room to spread out-- grew beautifully. Where I planted, however, was crowded. The heads were thinner and several were spindly. But what surprised me most was the slug damage.
Where there was room to spread out, where air and light circulated around the veggies, I had no chew-marks from the slugs. The most crowded part of my lettuce-row was the holiest.
Same thing in the strawberry patch. I overthinned last fall. But hey, no slugs this year!
The lettuce I did plant needed thinning. Week after week I didn't get to it. We came home from vacation to ready-to-pick heads of Romaine. The ones at the far end of the garden --where there was plenty of room to spread out-- grew beautifully. Where I planted, however, was crowded. The heads were thinner and several were spindly. But what surprised me most was the slug damage.
Where there was room to spread out, where air and light circulated around the veggies, I had no chew-marks from the slugs. The most crowded part of my lettuce-row was the holiest.
Same thing in the strawberry patch. I overthinned last fall. But hey, no slugs this year!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Some Teenagers ...
... give me the creeps.
Gary and I were out biking today, trying to build up a little endurance so that we might be capable of biking to town should we so desire. We passed three girls. When Gary passed them, I saw them giggling and pointing and smirking behind his back. When I passed them a few moments later, they did the same thing to me.
So what's their problem? Shame on us old people for daring to ride bicycles? Were our bikes not cool enough? Our clothes not cool enough? Or (more likely) anybody who's not part of their clique is probably smirk-worthy.
Call more over-protective. But that's one of the reasons I'm not wanting Maggie to go to school next year.
Gary and I were out biking today, trying to build up a little endurance so that we might be capable of biking to town should we so desire. We passed three girls. When Gary passed them, I saw them giggling and pointing and smirking behind his back. When I passed them a few moments later, they did the same thing to me.
So what's their problem? Shame on us old people for daring to ride bicycles? Were our bikes not cool enough? Our clothes not cool enough? Or (more likely) anybody who's not part of their clique is probably smirk-worthy.
Call more over-protective. But that's one of the reasons I'm not wanting Maggie to go to school next year.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Like It or Not, We Have a Two-Party System
During the summer of 1992 (and it seems like it was just the other day, not twenty years ago) the bumper stickers began to appear: "Don't blame me. I voted for Bush."
About a year later, as people became more and more disenchanted with the President, another bumper sticker appeared: "Don't blame me. I didn't vote for Clinton."
Those Perot-folks were the people I did blame.
Bill Clinton 43%
George Bush 37%
Ross Perot 19%
Most of those Perot votes were anti-Bush votes than they were pro-Perot votes, and most of those voters were even more anti-Clinton than they were anti-Bush. If our country had had preferential voting in 1992, Bush would have been re-elected.
We have a two-party system in this county. I don't approve of that. Technically, with what's on the books, we don't have a two-party system, and there is room for third-party candidates. But that's not the reality. The reality is that we have a choice of two in the upcoming election. Either Romney or Obama will be the next president.
Economically, we can choose between the socialist Republicans or the even-more-socialist Democrats. As many of my friends believe, it's two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think sliding down the slippery slope at a slower rate is better than careening down it. There are those who will disagree.
But there's something far more important than economics (and I think the economic state of this nation is pretty darn important). The HHS mandate would never have happened under Mitt Romney. Are you aware of what's going on in Sweden to stamp out the gospel and religious freedom? Life issues are at stake in the November election. Freedom of religion is at stake in the upcoming election. No, I don't think Mitt Romney is the best person for the job. But seeing as how we have a choice between only two men, he is the better man for the job.
Those who voted for Perot were the ones who really elected Clinton.
Are we going to make the same mistake this November?
About a year later, as people became more and more disenchanted with the President, another bumper sticker appeared: "Don't blame me. I didn't vote for Clinton."
Those Perot-folks were the people I did blame.
Bill Clinton 43%
George Bush 37%
Ross Perot 19%
Most of those Perot votes were anti-Bush votes than they were pro-Perot votes, and most of those voters were even more anti-Clinton than they were anti-Bush. If our country had had preferential voting in 1992, Bush would have been re-elected.
We have a two-party system in this county. I don't approve of that. Technically, with what's on the books, we don't have a two-party system, and there is room for third-party candidates. But that's not the reality. The reality is that we have a choice of two in the upcoming election. Either Romney or Obama will be the next president.
Economically, we can choose between the socialist Republicans or the even-more-socialist Democrats. As many of my friends believe, it's two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think sliding down the slippery slope at a slower rate is better than careening down it. There are those who will disagree.
But there's something far more important than economics (and I think the economic state of this nation is pretty darn important). The HHS mandate would never have happened under Mitt Romney. Are you aware of what's going on in Sweden to stamp out the gospel and religious freedom? Life issues are at stake in the November election. Freedom of religion is at stake in the upcoming election. No, I don't think Mitt Romney is the best person for the job. But seeing as how we have a choice between only two men, he is the better man for the job.
Those who voted for Perot were the ones who really elected Clinton.
Are we going to make the same mistake this November?
Monday, June 11, 2012
Promotion
Along came the perfect job for Gary. He's tried for other promotions and not gotten them. But the person who was promoted in those instances really was the better guy for the job.
But this job. This was tailor-made for Gary. Several co-workers who saw the job posted told him, "That's got your name written all over it." The position was supposed to be filled immediately. Gary applied. Two months dragged by. Finally someone else applied. And we learned the day before we left on vacation that this other person was chosen for the promotion.
It makes you wonder what God has planned, up there around the bend, where we can't see yet.
But this job. This was tailor-made for Gary. Several co-workers who saw the job posted told him, "That's got your name written all over it." The position was supposed to be filled immediately. Gary applied. Two months dragged by. Finally someone else applied. And we learned the day before we left on vacation that this other person was chosen for the promotion.
It makes you wonder what God has planned, up there around the bend, where we can't see yet.
What IS This Crazy-Talk?
Mark 3 -- They accuse Jesus of having a demon in Him. What He's saying is so outlandish.
Acts 2 -- On Pentecost, they accuse the apostles of being drunk in the middle of the morning. Who ever heard such crazy-talk like what they were preaching?
Forgiveness.
For sinners.
Who certainly don't deserve it.
Not your standard religious message.
Acts 2 -- On Pentecost, they accuse the apostles of being drunk in the middle of the morning. Who ever heard such crazy-talk like what they were preaching?
Forgiveness.
For sinners.
Who certainly don't deserve it.
Not your standard religious message.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
If I Had a Car
Gary's at district convention. Kids are at a pool party. If I had a car, I'd be getting a second dose of what I had Friday afternoon: I'd be at the beach doing NOTHING.
During a week of family reunion, I enjoyed talking with cousins and Mom, playing with kiddoes, trivia night, and my first exposure to Bunko. It wasn't until the last day, though, that I did NOTHING. A couple of hours with nothing to cook, nothing to do, just sitting in the sun or floating in the pool. A few hours of listening to birdies tweet, with the sun beating down on me, floating floating floating ... I haven't felt so mellow in a long long time. It's refreshing!
And I'm definitely up for ditching my responsibilities and having another go at NOTHINGness. But my car did not behave so well on the trip home from the reunion. Thankfully, we made it home (albeit with only two stops) without roadside assistance and without anyone wetting her pants. Well, actually, we didn't make it all the way home. We made it to my mechanic's shop. We'll find out the car's diagnosis tomorrow morning.
In theory, if I tackle enough housework, yardwork, and laundry today, maybe we could manage some beach time when I have my car back. (So have I fooled you into thinking I'll actually be that productive? I can't quite convince myself of it either.)
During a week of family reunion, I enjoyed talking with cousins and Mom, playing with kiddoes, trivia night, and my first exposure to Bunko. It wasn't until the last day, though, that I did NOTHING. A couple of hours with nothing to cook, nothing to do, just sitting in the sun or floating in the pool. A few hours of listening to birdies tweet, with the sun beating down on me, floating floating floating ... I haven't felt so mellow in a long long time. It's refreshing!
And I'm definitely up for ditching my responsibilities and having another go at NOTHINGness. But my car did not behave so well on the trip home from the reunion. Thankfully, we made it home (albeit with only two stops) without roadside assistance and without anyone wetting her pants. Well, actually, we didn't make it all the way home. We made it to my mechanic's shop. We'll find out the car's diagnosis tomorrow morning.
In theory, if I tackle enough housework, yardwork, and laundry today, maybe we could manage some beach time when I have my car back. (So have I fooled you into thinking I'll actually be that productive? I can't quite convince myself of it either.)
Trust Not in Princes
On Wednesday I kept finding myself singing The Election Song. "Trust not in princes they are but mortal. Earthborn they are and soon decay.... Since then no man can help afford, trust ye in Christ, our God and Lord" (TLH 26). I would stop myself and think, "Wait. My guy won. This song isn't right for today. This is the hymn you sing when your guy loses. What should I sing instead? Maybe the te Deum?"
But you know what? Even when my guy loses, it's right to sing "We praise Thee, O God. We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord ...." And when when my guy wins, it's right to sing, "Trust not in princes ...." Because the Lord knows what He's doing, regardless of who wins an election.
Nevertheless, I still want to do the Happy Dance when think of Tuesday night's election results.
But you know what? Even when my guy loses, it's right to sing "We praise Thee, O God. We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord ...." And when when my guy wins, it's right to sing, "Trust not in princes ...." Because the Lord knows what He's doing, regardless of who wins an election.
Nevertheless, I still want to do the Happy Dance when think of Tuesday night's election results.
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
IEP Meeting -- Attention Deficit
Both times Maggie was evaluated by psychologists regarding her learning disabilities, we were told that she has ADD. Really? I'm just not seeing it. When they told me this in California, I attributed the diagnosis to a screw-up in the evaluation procedure or the scoring of the test. But they came up with the same findings again this spring.
However, the psychologist informed me of something else this spring -- Maggie's abysmal "processing speed." I believe this accounts for the so-called problem of attention deficit.
When the kids tried to teach me the game of Munchkins, I couldn't understand. I couldn't learn. There was too much unfamiliar to me. There were no "learning hooks" to which I could connect the new information they were giving me. It was ALL new. And it quickly became muddled.
My friend Glenda wrote about her recent trip to Germany, and how she fared during church services where she didn't speak the language. Yes, she grasped parts of it. Yes, God was still giving to her even when she was lost. But given the thoughts swirling in my mind in wake of our IEP meeting, what struck me most was how Glenda (a grown woman who loves to sit through church every Sunday) had the wiggles and had to struggle to pay attention.
I usually have very good hearing. But sometimes you're in a room that is particularly noisy and you miss a lot of what the other person is saying. You grab some of the message by lip reading, by facial expressions and body language, and you catch some of the words. But it's awfully hard work to pay attention and get it all. (I don't know how my mom does it! She's impressive.) It's hard to think about what the person says when you're expending so much energy just trying to hear it.
So now, if you're a girl whose brain just doesn't go as fast as other people's brains, you need more time. And if you can't slow 'em down, pretty soon you're just going to quit paying attention. That's not ADD. That's a perfectly normal reaction.
PS: This is another example of how ADD is being overdiagnosed.
However, the psychologist informed me of something else this spring -- Maggie's abysmal "processing speed." I believe this accounts for the so-called problem of attention deficit.
When the kids tried to teach me the game of Munchkins, I couldn't understand. I couldn't learn. There was too much unfamiliar to me. There were no "learning hooks" to which I could connect the new information they were giving me. It was ALL new. And it quickly became muddled.
My friend Glenda wrote about her recent trip to Germany, and how she fared during church services where she didn't speak the language. Yes, she grasped parts of it. Yes, God was still giving to her even when she was lost. But given the thoughts swirling in my mind in wake of our IEP meeting, what struck me most was how Glenda (a grown woman who loves to sit through church every Sunday) had the wiggles and had to struggle to pay attention.
I usually have very good hearing. But sometimes you're in a room that is particularly noisy and you miss a lot of what the other person is saying. You grab some of the message by lip reading, by facial expressions and body language, and you catch some of the words. But it's awfully hard work to pay attention and get it all. (I don't know how my mom does it! She's impressive.) It's hard to think about what the person says when you're expending so much energy just trying to hear it.
So now, if you're a girl whose brain just doesn't go as fast as other people's brains, you need more time. And if you can't slow 'em down, pretty soon you're just going to quit paying attention. That's not ADD. That's a perfectly normal reaction.
PS: This is another example of how ADD is being overdiagnosed.
Monday, June 04, 2012
Learning Munchkins
The kids loved the game Munchkins. Several years ago they arm-twisted invited me to join them. "Oh, it's easy, Mom. It's not like those strategy games you don't like. You can learn this!"
So we sat down to play. They were trying to teach me. But there was all this stuff about elves and ogres and trolls and different kinds of characters -- vocabulary that wasn't part of my daily life, that's for sure. I remember how the kids patiently explained the rules, the cards, the characters. I remember how they patiently walked me through the game, as a big sister might do for the 3-yr-old who's learning to play Candyland.
And it made no sense.
Granted, at that point, things were a wee bit stressful in life. And this was too much. I didn't understand anything they were telling me. Not about how the game worked. Nor about the kinds of creatures that were part of the game. Nothing. I ended up putting my head down on the table and crying. I thought my head would explode with all the details that were a jumble in my brain.
I think I spent an hour lying on my bed and crying, distraught that I was simply unable to comprehend. "What's happened to my mind? I used to be able to do anything I determined to do. This is just a game. A game that kids can play. And it's entirely beyond me!"
We moved. Things have become more stable. A year ago, I was capable of learning the procedures at work. Even in the upheaval of moving, I managed (eventually) to learn where the foil and the mixing bowls were tucked away in the new kitchen. This past Christmas, Matt & Rachel bought our family a cool board game that I enjoyed playing. It is conceivable (!) that I might be able to learn Munchkins now.
But I don't know to. The memories are bad. The fear of failure remains.
So we sat down to play. They were trying to teach me. But there was all this stuff about elves and ogres and trolls and different kinds of characters -- vocabulary that wasn't part of my daily life, that's for sure. I remember how the kids patiently explained the rules, the cards, the characters. I remember how they patiently walked me through the game, as a big sister might do for the 3-yr-old who's learning to play Candyland.
And it made no sense.
Granted, at that point, things were a wee bit stressful in life. And this was too much. I didn't understand anything they were telling me. Not about how the game worked. Nor about the kinds of creatures that were part of the game. Nothing. I ended up putting my head down on the table and crying. I thought my head would explode with all the details that were a jumble in my brain.
I think I spent an hour lying on my bed and crying, distraught that I was simply unable to comprehend. "What's happened to my mind? I used to be able to do anything I determined to do. This is just a game. A game that kids can play. And it's entirely beyond me!"
We moved. Things have become more stable. A year ago, I was capable of learning the procedures at work. Even in the upheaval of moving, I managed (eventually) to learn where the foil and the mixing bowls were tucked away in the new kitchen. This past Christmas, Matt & Rachel bought our family a cool board game that I enjoyed playing. It is conceivable (!) that I might be able to learn Munchkins now.
But I don't know to. The memories are bad. The fear of failure remains.
Sunday, June 03, 2012
IEP Meeting -- Where's the Bar?
So, at the IEP meeting, the testers explained where Maggie scored in comparison to other kids.
They told us that her reading level was 8th grade. When I was testing her reading level a couple of months ago, I determined 4th or 5th grade.
They told us that her math level was late 6th grade. She's managing in the 4th-grade Saxon book. She's about 3/4 of the way through. We've been on it for over two years now. And the school folks are telling me she's scoring two years ahead of where I think she is.
On the one hand, woo hoo for Maggie that she's doing okay.
On the other hand, what does this say about the kids at the school, if what I call 4th-grade work is what their teachers call 7th-grade work?? And what does this say for the society that these kids will be part of?
They told us that her reading level was 8th grade. When I was testing her reading level a couple of months ago, I determined 4th or 5th grade.
They told us that her math level was late 6th grade. She's managing in the 4th-grade Saxon book. She's about 3/4 of the way through. We've been on it for over two years now. And the school folks are telling me she's scoring two years ahead of where I think she is.
On the one hand, woo hoo for Maggie that she's doing okay.
On the other hand, what does this say about the kids at the school, if what I call 4th-grade work is what their teachers call 7th-grade work?? And what does this say for the society that these kids will be part of?
Friday, June 01, 2012
IEP Meeting
For those who asked to hear about the IEP meeting:
Because of working extra hours this week and because of end-of-the-year events at our church's school, I haven't had much chance to think through the meeting.
1. The people we met were very nice. Even if Maggie doesn't become a student at the public school, they have offered different kinds of help and suggestions. I was impressed!
2. It sounds like Medicaid is available only if we sign her up for SSI. We'll have to look into that.
3. We learned that there is such a thing as "partial guardianship." We'd been told that we should put Maggie under guardianship, but she seems too able for that. And yet, there are things that both she and we think she needs protection from and help with. Partial guardianship may be just the thing. We'll have to look into it.
4. She does not need to go to the public school in order to be eligible to receive services from the State. I have been told repeatedly by people in the County and the State that eligibility is normally determined by teacher/counselor evaluations as to how the child struggles in school. Well, I guess that's not going to apply to us now. Maggie's testing showed her to be severely developmentally delayed in processing speed. That means she thinks slowly and hears slowly and makes decisions slowly. She tested so low on this that the representative from the State said Maggie would be "category 1" and go up near the top of the waiting list when we are ready to sign her up for help in finding a job.
There's still a lot to figure out. But it's looking less likely that public school will become part of our lives later this year.
Because of working extra hours this week and because of end-of-the-year events at our church's school, I haven't had much chance to think through the meeting.
1. The people we met were very nice. Even if Maggie doesn't become a student at the public school, they have offered different kinds of help and suggestions. I was impressed!
2. It sounds like Medicaid is available only if we sign her up for SSI. We'll have to look into that.
3. We learned that there is such a thing as "partial guardianship." We'd been told that we should put Maggie under guardianship, but she seems too able for that. And yet, there are things that both she and we think she needs protection from and help with. Partial guardianship may be just the thing. We'll have to look into it.
4. She does not need to go to the public school in order to be eligible to receive services from the State. I have been told repeatedly by people in the County and the State that eligibility is normally determined by teacher/counselor evaluations as to how the child struggles in school. Well, I guess that's not going to apply to us now. Maggie's testing showed her to be severely developmentally delayed in processing speed. That means she thinks slowly and hears slowly and makes decisions slowly. She tested so low on this that the representative from the State said Maggie would be "category 1" and go up near the top of the waiting list when we are ready to sign her up for help in finding a job.
There's still a lot to figure out. But it's looking less likely that public school will become part of our lives later this year.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Holy Spirit Points to Christ
John 16: Jesus said that when the Holy Spirit comes, He will guide you into all truth.
John 14: What was that about Jesus being the Way, the Truth, and the Life??
John 14: What was that about Jesus being the Way, the Truth, and the Life??
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Strawberry Bed
So the picture on the left is what the strawberry bed looked like on Sunday afternoon.
On Monday afternoon, Maggie and I worked for less than an hour.
By Tuesday evening the patch was shocking. No weeds. Just lots and lots of dirt. Maggie worked really hard. Andrew helped too. Wow -- it's beautiful! Aren't they awesome?!
On Monday afternoon, Maggie and I worked for less than an hour.
By Tuesday evening the patch was shocking. No weeds. Just lots and lots of dirt. Maggie worked really hard. Andrew helped too. Wow -- it's beautiful! Aren't they awesome?!
Wood Sorrel
There's a reason to yank these beautiful flowers out of my strawberry patch.
But tell me again why I'm pulling them from my flower beds?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
IEP Meeting
Tomorrow morning is the meeting.
I wonder how many parents go into an IEP, having taught the kid for many years? What will the school folks do with a parent who has strong opinions on curriculum, what works, and what doesn't for this particular kid? Will they understand that I care more about learning than about succeeding with grades? Will they care about my observations and my thoughts on where she is with regard to Piaget's stages and/or her developmental level with regard to classical education?
What if I'm too opinionated?
What if I'm too demanding?
What if I'm not demanding enough?
Good thing Gary's planning to go too.
I wonder how many parents go into an IEP, having taught the kid for many years? What will the school folks do with a parent who has strong opinions on curriculum, what works, and what doesn't for this particular kid? Will they understand that I care more about learning than about succeeding with grades? Will they care about my observations and my thoughts on where she is with regard to Piaget's stages and/or her developmental level with regard to classical education?
What if I'm too opinionated?
What if I'm too demanding?
What if I'm not demanding enough?
Good thing Gary's planning to go too.
A Fun Afternoon
Swimming pool!
Cold beer. Hot day. Good thing.
I think somebody has her sports mixed up.
I can never keep track of this horse's name. Alia keeps changing it.
"Mmmmm. Spinach! Nanna, may I have some of your spinach? I love spinach." And the mommy says this is not the same kid who eats at her house. Plucking it out of the garden must give it some magical tastiness properties.
Sitting in the strawberries. Zoe was trying to help weed. We made a good dent in the mess.
A blackbird decidedly unhappy to see a hawk hanging around.
Cold beer. Hot day. Good thing.
I think somebody has her sports mixed up.
I can never keep track of this horse's name. Alia keeps changing it.
"Mmmmm. Spinach! Nanna, may I have some of your spinach? I love spinach." And the mommy says this is not the same kid who eats at her house. Plucking it out of the garden must give it some magical tastiness properties.
Sitting in the strawberries. Zoe was trying to help weed. We made a good dent in the mess.
A blackbird decidedly unhappy to see a hawk hanging around.
Yesterday's Tally
One batch of potato salad.
Two batches of granola.
One large batch of applesauce-oat muffins.
One batch of Katie-&-Zoe-safe muffins.
One batch of home-made caramels.
One batch of kombucha.
To the farm to buy milk.
To the bank's night deposit for a drop-off.
To the grocery store to nab this week's loss leaders.
Three loads of laundry.
Watering the garden.
Weeding more of the strawberry patch.
Prep work for a tray of baklava.
Prep work for two batches of Glenda's Most Evil Dessert.
Our first attempt at home-made mozzarella.
And because of all that, I washed dishes eight times.
Today I go to "work." That's the place where I get paid ... and where I rest up from my so-called day off.
Two batches of granola.
One large batch of applesauce-oat muffins.
One batch of Katie-&-Zoe-safe muffins.
One batch of home-made caramels.
One batch of kombucha.
To the farm to buy milk.
To the bank's night deposit for a drop-off.
To the grocery store to nab this week's loss leaders.
Three loads of laundry.
Watering the garden.
Weeding more of the strawberry patch.
Prep work for a tray of baklava.
Prep work for two batches of Glenda's Most Evil Dessert.
Our first attempt at home-made mozzarella.
And because of all that, I washed dishes eight times.
Today I go to "work." That's the place where I get paid ... and where I rest up from my so-called day off.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Colin and Gary -- Almost Twins
So Katie attended a reunion this weekend with some of her dear friends. Alia liked Colin right away. She kept calling him Papa.
Why does that make me so incredibly happy?!!!
Their Love for Paul
The Galatians loved Paul. They listened to him. They welcomed him. They received his preaching. When they begin to turn to another gospel, Paul reminds them how, if it were possible, they would have "plucked out their own eyes and given them" to Paul (Galatians 4:11-15).
This shows their deep affection for their pastor. But it's not just their love for him. What moves them is also their love for others. Christians want others to hear the good news of the forgiveness of sins. The Galatians desired not only what was good for their pastor, but also that their pastor be able to continue in his work.
This shows their deep affection for their pastor. But it's not just their love for him. What moves them is also their love for others. Christians want others to hear the good news of the forgiveness of sins. The Galatians desired not only what was good for their pastor, but also that their pastor be able to continue in his work.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Being an Interested Person
In responding to Cheryl's comment in the previous post, I was reminded of a story from Andrew's class this spring. The assignment was to give a speech. The speech was supposed to be "relevant."
Andrew picked the topic of Norse mythology. He had all sorts of interesting things to tell. But was it "relevant"? No. In a stretch for relevancy, he discovered that there were 20,000 people in the US who practice that religion. So we, uh, need to be informed so that, uh, we can understand those folks. Yeah. That'd be it. There's the relevancy. Yup.
Apparently, the teacher didn't buy the pitch for being relevant. But the speech was good. It was [ta da!!] interesting. Andrew said his classmates paid attention and asked questions!
This illustrates that sometimes a person is interesting because the listeners are interested. People who are curious and who are excited to learn... these folks will often find others interesting. Some people find almost everything to be interesting!
Maybe "interesting" is in the eyes of the beholder.
Andrew picked the topic of Norse mythology. He had all sorts of interesting things to tell. But was it "relevant"? No. In a stretch for relevancy, he discovered that there were 20,000 people in the US who practice that religion. So we, uh, need to be informed so that, uh, we can understand those folks. Yeah. That'd be it. There's the relevancy. Yup.
Apparently, the teacher didn't buy the pitch for being relevant. But the speech was good. It was [ta da!!] interesting. Andrew said his classmates paid attention and asked questions!
This illustrates that sometimes a person is interesting because the listeners are interested. People who are curious and who are excited to learn... these folks will often find others interesting. Some people find almost everything to be interesting!
Maybe "interesting" is in the eyes of the beholder.
Being an Interesting Person
I imagine that I used to be an interesting person. You may disagree with this, but hey, at least some people used to find me interesting! It's become clear to me, however, in the last several months that I'm no longer interesting. (At least, not to most people.)
Not long ago, a friend posted a link to an article about How To Be More Interesting (page 1) and (page 2). It reflected some of my ruminations.
First, interesting people have ideas. They're not bland. They're not conformists. They have opinions. They're engaged in life.
Second, the people around them care to listen to those ideas and opinions.
And that's what's changed for me.
If I'm around people who are interested in the Packers' season, they're going to find me boring. I don't care who the coach is, or what player has been benched, or which team they're playing next.
I used to be interesting when I hung out with people who cared about the things I cared about: cooking, raising kids, gardens, music, theology, Shakespeare plays, homeschool curriculum, politics, alternative medicine. If I spend a lot of time with people who don't care diddly about these things, then they're going to find me boring. What do I have to talk about? What are my ideas? People who aren't interested in those topics anyway sure aren't going to care what I think of an already-boring-to-them subject.
I used to be interesting when I wasn't afraid to express my opinions. The old maxim about not discussing religion and politics makes it easier to get along with co-workers and neighbors. But if religion and politics are what you think about, care about, talk about, keeping your lip zipped makes you appear boring.
I used to be interesting when I had time to read, to watch movies, to be learning all sorts of cool stuff alongside my kids. I was filling up my head with nifty ideas, and we'd all be discussing those things as we sat around the table or ran errands or did chores. Now I just try to keep up with the basics.
Gary's trying to stay up on sports so that he can interact with folks. It's a great plan. I don't have the time and energy to delve into that yet. Maybe someday. But for now, I will be content with being boring ... except for those dear times when I can be with people whom I find to be interesting!
Not long ago, a friend posted a link to an article about How To Be More Interesting (page 1) and (page 2). It reflected some of my ruminations.
First, interesting people have ideas. They're not bland. They're not conformists. They have opinions. They're engaged in life.
Second, the people around them care to listen to those ideas and opinions.
And that's what's changed for me.
If I'm around people who are interested in the Packers' season, they're going to find me boring. I don't care who the coach is, or what player has been benched, or which team they're playing next.
I used to be interesting when I hung out with people who cared about the things I cared about: cooking, raising kids, gardens, music, theology, Shakespeare plays, homeschool curriculum, politics, alternative medicine. If I spend a lot of time with people who don't care diddly about these things, then they're going to find me boring. What do I have to talk about? What are my ideas? People who aren't interested in those topics anyway sure aren't going to care what I think of an already-boring-to-them subject.
I used to be interesting when I wasn't afraid to express my opinions. The old maxim about not discussing religion and politics makes it easier to get along with co-workers and neighbors. But if religion and politics are what you think about, care about, talk about, keeping your lip zipped makes you appear boring.
I used to be interesting when I had time to read, to watch movies, to be learning all sorts of cool stuff alongside my kids. I was filling up my head with nifty ideas, and we'd all be discussing those things as we sat around the table or ran errands or did chores. Now I just try to keep up with the basics.
Gary's trying to stay up on sports so that he can interact with folks. It's a great plan. I don't have the time and energy to delve into that yet. Maybe someday. But for now, I will be content with being boring ... except for those dear times when I can be with people whom I find to be interesting!
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Forensic Justification
Some of us do not want to emphasize forensic justification. "Oh, there's so much more to it than that. That's an old-fashioned model. Let's get beyond that."
But as we heard in Bible class last week, there's courtroom talk all through John and Paul:
witnessing
testimony
testifying
truth
paying the penalty.
That's sounds pretty forensic to me.
But as we heard in Bible class last week, there's courtroom talk all through John and Paul:
witnessing
testimony
testifying
truth
paying the penalty.
That's sounds pretty forensic to me.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Biblical Numbers
They may be cool, but are they important?
They must be. Between Jesus' ascension and Pentecost, the apostles decided they needed to replace Judas. WHY?
For some reason, these guys knew that eleven wasn't an okay number. There were supposed to be twelve. (Okay, so they didn't get it that there was a twelfth, and God would send Paul along in due time. That's irrelevant for the moment.) Regardless of who the twelfth would be, they knew that something about the twelveness was important.
I'm betting that there are other numbers that are more important than I can understand too.
They must be. Between Jesus' ascension and Pentecost, the apostles decided they needed to replace Judas. WHY?
For some reason, these guys knew that eleven wasn't an okay number. There were supposed to be twelve. (Okay, so they didn't get it that there was a twelfth, and God would send Paul along in due time. That's irrelevant for the moment.) Regardless of who the twelfth would be, they knew that something about the twelveness was important.
I'm betting that there are other numbers that are more important than I can understand too.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
This Is Serious Stuff
So, is fussiness a bad thing? I've often noticed the particular care my pastor takes with the items on the altar after communion. He sets the vessels in just the right place. He makes sure the veil is neat and straight and the corners are folded just so.
Some people might find that to be too picky. But it sends a message (although I'm pretty sure that's not why he does it). It sends a message that these things matter. That this is serious stuff. That this is not to be rushed through. That something precious and important is happening here.
An article in Touchstone (hat tip: Rick Stuckwisch) illustrated the difference between the pastor and the soldiers at a military funeral. The pastor was a little casual. The soldiers were precise in executing their military rites.
At the late service on Good Friday, the final distribution hymn ended a big fat minute or two (or three?) before Pastor was done at the altar. Silence. We waited. We watched. The silence continued. He was taking his usual pains with making sure everything was just so. More silence.
Earlier in the evening, we'd heard the Passion According to St John. At the very end of the story, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus' body in linen and laid Him in the tomb. And there was Pastor, ever-so-carefully draping the linen over the vessels where Jesus' body and blood had been minutes before.
I was not the only one who had to brush away a tear.
Did it matter? Would Jesus have been any less there, any less forgiving, had Pastor been hastier and more casual? No.
But it still matters.
The careful attention-to-detail confesses something about what's happening there, in that place, at that time, through that bread and that wine. It confesses something about what that bread and wine IS.
And what do we confess when we hurry through and are okay with sloppiness?
Some people might find that to be too picky. But it sends a message (although I'm pretty sure that's not why he does it). It sends a message that these things matter. That this is serious stuff. That this is not to be rushed through. That something precious and important is happening here.
An article in Touchstone (hat tip: Rick Stuckwisch) illustrated the difference between the pastor and the soldiers at a military funeral. The pastor was a little casual. The soldiers were precise in executing their military rites.
At the late service on Good Friday, the final distribution hymn ended a big fat minute or two (or three?) before Pastor was done at the altar. Silence. We waited. We watched. The silence continued. He was taking his usual pains with making sure everything was just so. More silence.
Earlier in the evening, we'd heard the Passion According to St John. At the very end of the story, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus' body in linen and laid Him in the tomb. And there was Pastor, ever-so-carefully draping the linen over the vessels where Jesus' body and blood had been minutes before.
I was not the only one who had to brush away a tear.
Did it matter? Would Jesus have been any less there, any less forgiving, had Pastor been hastier and more casual? No.
But it still matters.
The careful attention-to-detail confesses something about what's happening there, in that place, at that time, through that bread and that wine. It confesses something about what that bread and wine IS.
And what do we confess when we hurry through and are okay with sloppiness?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
School Tour
Kids tour colleges they're considering, right? It's not as common to tour high schools, largely because most people don't consider the options and then make a choice. Well, Maggie and I toured our local public high school yesterday.
There are a lot of nice things about it. Most of the classrooms have many huge windows! I also like the block scheduling they use: instead of 8 classes per day, taken all year, kids take 4 classes per day and finish the whole course in a semester.
There is a policeman who spends his days at the school. I have mixed feelings about that. It's creepy that it's considered necessary. And yet, if it is necessary, I guess it's good he's right there.
The guidance counselor has worked with homeschoolers before. He's worked with special-needs kids before. He's never worked with a special-needs homeschooler transferring in. So if we do this, we're breaking new ground. He also reminded me that Maggie could take one class at the high school if we preferred that over full-time enrollment. That's something to consider, although the transportation would probably be a problem.
The hallways are full of posters promoting environmentalism. (And no, I ought not be surprised. My logical head knew it would be that way. But I was still surprised by how many posters!)
There's no microwave in the school cafeteria for nuking lunches. Either buy lunch there (which doesn't look like a good plan, from what we saw on the menus) or take a cold lunch.
Classes start at 7:25. In the morning! The school bus picks up at 6:30. This would mean Maggie should be hitting the hay around 8:00 if she goes to school next year. Yikes!
The hallways and the classrooms seemed bright and cheery. But not in the special-ed area of the school. No windows in those classrooms. Small rooms. Darker rooms. Drearier hallway. That seems wrong.
Maggie and I are both finding ourselves in this weird Land of Unknowing. On the one hand, we're talking about next year as if she's going to school -- what classes she'll take, what to do about lunch, how she'll figure out her locker combination, etc. And yet we're also assuming that we'll go on with homeschooling -- looking forward to APT next fall, considering which curricula we'll use for various subjects, thinking about fieldtrips and volunteering at the library, etc. It's strange to be expecting both mutually-exclusive things to happen. Hopefully we'll know a lot more after next week's big meeting.
There are a lot of nice things about it. Most of the classrooms have many huge windows! I also like the block scheduling they use: instead of 8 classes per day, taken all year, kids take 4 classes per day and finish the whole course in a semester.
There is a policeman who spends his days at the school. I have mixed feelings about that. It's creepy that it's considered necessary. And yet, if it is necessary, I guess it's good he's right there.
The guidance counselor has worked with homeschoolers before. He's worked with special-needs kids before. He's never worked with a special-needs homeschooler transferring in. So if we do this, we're breaking new ground. He also reminded me that Maggie could take one class at the high school if we preferred that over full-time enrollment. That's something to consider, although the transportation would probably be a problem.
The hallways are full of posters promoting environmentalism. (And no, I ought not be surprised. My logical head knew it would be that way. But I was still surprised by how many posters!)
There's no microwave in the school cafeteria for nuking lunches. Either buy lunch there (which doesn't look like a good plan, from what we saw on the menus) or take a cold lunch.
Classes start at 7:25. In the morning! The school bus picks up at 6:30. This would mean Maggie should be hitting the hay around 8:00 if she goes to school next year. Yikes!
The hallways and the classrooms seemed bright and cheery. But not in the special-ed area of the school. No windows in those classrooms. Small rooms. Darker rooms. Drearier hallway. That seems wrong.
Maggie and I are both finding ourselves in this weird Land of Unknowing. On the one hand, we're talking about next year as if she's going to school -- what classes she'll take, what to do about lunch, how she'll figure out her locker combination, etc. And yet we're also assuming that we'll go on with homeschooling -- looking forward to APT next fall, considering which curricula we'll use for various subjects, thinking about fieldtrips and volunteering at the library, etc. It's strange to be expecting both mutually-exclusive things to happen. Hopefully we'll know a lot more after next week's big meeting.
Can You Punish AND Forgive?
Somehow I always had the idea that forgiveness meant that you wouldn't be punished. "I forgive you" meant that you wouldn't have to stay after school, or wouldn't have to pay for the broken window, or wouldn't have to go to jail.
I don't think I'm the only one with that idea.
After all, look at the judicial system. Listen to the media. The criminal is really really sorry for what he did. Because he's sorry, that means he should be forgiven. And of course, "forgiveness" means that he won't have to be incarcerated. Right? Wrong.
We tend to do the same thing with kids. How often have you heard parents say, "But I can't spank him now. He said he was sorry, and I forgave him!"
First problem with that is that you'll raise a brat who learns to lie about Being Sorry.
Second problem is that a kid learns that punishment means he's not forgiven. Oooh. Ick. Do we want to teach that lesson? Heck, no. But when we [as a society or as parents or as teachers] do refrain from punishing a kid who's truly sorry, what happens to that same kid when punishments come later, at another time? Does that mean Daddy doesn't forgive me this time?
And worse, do we conclude that when bad stuff happens, it means that God doesn't forgive?
I don't think I'm the only one with that idea.
After all, look at the judicial system. Listen to the media. The criminal is really really sorry for what he did. Because he's sorry, that means he should be forgiven. And of course, "forgiveness" means that he won't have to be incarcerated. Right? Wrong.
We tend to do the same thing with kids. How often have you heard parents say, "But I can't spank him now. He said he was sorry, and I forgave him!"
First problem with that is that you'll raise a brat who learns to lie about Being Sorry.
Second problem is that a kid learns that punishment means he's not forgiven. Oooh. Ick. Do we want to teach that lesson? Heck, no. But when we [as a society or as parents or as teachers] do refrain from punishing a kid who's truly sorry, what happens to that same kid when punishments come later, at another time? Does that mean Daddy doesn't forgive me this time?
And worse, do we conclude that when bad stuff happens, it means that God doesn't forgive?
Monday, May 21, 2012
Certainty
Luther's always talking about "certainty." Again and again, he says that thus-and-such cannot be true, because if it were true we would have no certainty.
I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why "but then we would have no certainty" meant X-ing out an argument without further consideration. Wasn't that just wishful thinking? "Hey, I want to be certain of my salvation. I want to be certain that I am God's child. And if we can't hang onto our certainty, then let's just ditch that idea! After all, we can't let it mess up my certainty."
So I finally asked. "Where does the Bible tell us that God wants us to be certain? I don't see a passage like that anywhere."
And the answer? "I have called you by name; you are Mine. Does that sound iffy to you? I forgive you all your sins. Is that conditional? As far as the east is from the west, so far have I removed your transgressions from you. That sounds like God really means it, like He's certain. There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Any chance there might be some condemnation for you? No? Well, that sounds pretty certain to me." As the Bible verses poured forth, it became clear.
If God tells the truth, then, by-gum, we can be certain.
I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why "but then we would have no certainty" meant X-ing out an argument without further consideration. Wasn't that just wishful thinking? "Hey, I want to be certain of my salvation. I want to be certain that I am God's child. And if we can't hang onto our certainty, then let's just ditch that idea! After all, we can't let it mess up my certainty."
So I finally asked. "Where does the Bible tell us that God wants us to be certain? I don't see a passage like that anywhere."
And the answer? "I have called you by name; you are Mine. Does that sound iffy to you? I forgive you all your sins. Is that conditional? As far as the east is from the west, so far have I removed your transgressions from you. That sounds like God really means it, like He's certain. There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Any chance there might be some condemnation for you? No? Well, that sounds pretty certain to me." As the Bible verses poured forth, it became clear.
If God tells the truth, then, by-gum, we can be certain.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Murder and Lies
Jesus told the Pharisees, You are of your father the devil, and the desires of your father you want to do. He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. (John 8:44)
If God's word is truth,
and if God's word gives life,
then Satan's lies about doctrine
is how he murders.
His murder "from the beginning" was what he said to Eve: "Did God really say ...?"
If God's word is truth,
and if God's word gives life,
then Satan's lies about doctrine
is how he murders.
His murder "from the beginning" was what he said to Eve: "Did God really say ...?"
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Update
This is the Weekend Of The Crazy. Andrew's done with spring semester except for one final on Monday. Prom is this weekend, so that means Maggie & Andrew at a party last night, Bryce here for the weekend, and Andrew at the dance tonight.
Katie and family moved this week, and I have done nothing to help. Well, ... other than watch the girls on Thursday. That was a fun day.
Maggie worked at the fish fry at church last night, attended the concert, spent the night with Olivia, and helped with church's clean-up day this morning.
Gary substitute preaches at one church tonight and at a different church tomorrow (both a 40-minute drive away).
It's museum-swap weekend, which means we can get in free to a museum we want to visit but don't have a museum membership for. We really should go. I really want to go. But I don't function well when I try to squeeze in too many activities.
Monday Maggie and I are set up to visit the local high school, just to get a feel for it, in case we find their IEP* offer sounds like it would be necessary.
I need to go dig in the garden so the tomatoes can get started on their growing. (But there's schoolwork, and housecleaning, and goofing off on the computer....)
*IEP = Individualized Educational Program
Katie and family moved this week, and I have done nothing to help. Well, ... other than watch the girls on Thursday. That was a fun day.
Maggie worked at the fish fry at church last night, attended the concert, spent the night with Olivia, and helped with church's clean-up day this morning.
Gary substitute preaches at one church tonight and at a different church tomorrow (both a 40-minute drive away).
It's museum-swap weekend, which means we can get in free to a museum we want to visit but don't have a museum membership for. We really should go. I really want to go. But I don't function well when I try to squeeze in too many activities.
Monday Maggie and I are set up to visit the local high school, just to get a feel for it, in case we find their IEP* offer sounds like it would be necessary.
I need to go dig in the garden so the tomatoes can get started on their growing. (But there's schoolwork, and housecleaning, and goofing off on the computer....)
*IEP = Individualized Educational Program
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Interactions with the School
So I've been trying to ask for a few years what the special-ed program at our local public school is like. They wouldn't talk to me until we had Maggie evaluated. Okay, so when I tried to make an appointment this spring for an evaluation, they first told me they couldn't even evaluate her until I enrolled her. After my spending hours of reading statues and regulations and preparing to show them what their legal duty was, they figured it out on their own that I was right. So we began to set up the evaluation.
Now I know why there are legal time limits on how soon the school is required to get this finished.
It was weeks before I heard back after they mailed the letter saying there would be an evaluation. I had to call them several times, asking why I hadn't heard from them. (And if you know me, you know that I always wait too long, always give people the benefit of the doubt for their pokey response-times.) Now I'm trying to make an appointment for a tour of the school. And nobody is responding to my phone calls.
If this is the kind of response (or lack of response!) I'm getting as a school-shopper, what kind of response will I get once we've decided to enroll a kid? Don't salesmen usually put on their best behavior, their quickest response times, their nicest charms, when they're trying to gain a customer?
Now I know why there are legal time limits on how soon the school is required to get this finished.
It was weeks before I heard back after they mailed the letter saying there would be an evaluation. I had to call them several times, asking why I hadn't heard from them. (And if you know me, you know that I always wait too long, always give people the benefit of the doubt for their pokey response-times.) Now I'm trying to make an appointment for a tour of the school. And nobody is responding to my phone calls.
If this is the kind of response (or lack of response!) I'm getting as a school-shopper, what kind of response will I get once we've decided to enroll a kid? Don't salesmen usually put on their best behavior, their quickest response times, their nicest charms, when they're trying to gain a customer?
Monday, May 14, 2012
Lars and the Real Girl
Upon the recommendations of several people, we put Lars and the Real Girl onto our Netflix queue. Because of the plot description, however, we kept bumping it further down the queue. We'd watch movies, and over time, Lars would climb back to the top of the list. Then we'd send it back down to #50 or so. That happened several times.
Last week the movie arrived in the mailbox. Oops. Our list-monitoring slipped through our fingers there for a couple of weeks. So we went ahead and watched the movie.
Oh. My. Goodness.
It was the best thing I've seen in ages. It is NOT what you expect, given the premise. I want so badly to muse upon the story here, but it's the kind of movie that I don't want to ruin for anyone. (How often do you watch a movie that you honestly have no idea where they're going to go with it?)
It's a movie about love. It's a movie about mental illness. It's a movie about family. One person described it as warm and funny and yet painful. Yes. It's sweet in so many ways!
Last week the movie arrived in the mailbox. Oops. Our list-monitoring slipped through our fingers there for a couple of weeks. So we went ahead and watched the movie.
Oh. My. Goodness.
It was the best thing I've seen in ages. It is NOT what you expect, given the premise. I want so badly to muse upon the story here, but it's the kind of movie that I don't want to ruin for anyone. (How often do you watch a movie that you honestly have no idea where they're going to go with it?)
It's a movie about love. It's a movie about mental illness. It's a movie about family. One person described it as warm and funny and yet painful. Yes. It's sweet in so many ways!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Devotional Materials versus The Bible
Maybe you've heard it too. In my past, authorities would often say that we should focus on the Bible. They didn't say it was wrong to use devotional writings, but that the Bible was what was important. And they've certainly got a point.
But if Jesus says that it's important not only that He suffer, die, and rise again, but also that this be preached (Luke 24), maybe that's part of the point of devotional writings. For example, there are sections of Luther in his Galatians commentary, or pages of Day by Day, which are sweet as can be! And these passages take Scripture and expound upon it, driving home the "for you" nature of what's in the Bible.
These writings aren't "versus" Bible-reading, no matter what that Sunday School teacher told me way-back-when.
But if Jesus says that it's important not only that He suffer, die, and rise again, but also that this be preached (Luke 24), maybe that's part of the point of devotional writings. For example, there are sections of Luther in his Galatians commentary, or pages of Day by Day, which are sweet as can be! And these passages take Scripture and expound upon it, driving home the "for you" nature of what's in the Bible.
These writings aren't "versus" Bible-reading, no matter what that Sunday School teacher told me way-back-when.
Stuffed Brain
Writing helps me think. Writing helps me solve problems. Writing helps me wind down. Writing helps keep me sane. (Or at least helps me fake sanity.)
My blogging recently has been shallow. There are all sorts of topics I want to write about, but they would take time. It doesn't take long to write, but it does take time to think things through before writing them. And I don't have time to think these days. (No time to think? Gasp!) And then ideas sit in my mind, piling up, befuddling me, being jumbled with other piles-of-ideas. And it all leaves my blog in a boring state, t'boot.
Y'know how you feel so much better after you've cleared the kitchen counters, or cleaned the bedroom, or organized that closet? Getting rid of clutter feels great! Well, I could use a week with no responsibilities except for straightening out my brain. After all, clutter there needs to be thinned and put in order too.
My blogging recently has been shallow. There are all sorts of topics I want to write about, but they would take time. It doesn't take long to write, but it does take time to think things through before writing them. And I don't have time to think these days. (No time to think? Gasp!) And then ideas sit in my mind, piling up, befuddling me, being jumbled with other piles-of-ideas. And it all leaves my blog in a boring state, t'boot.
Y'know how you feel so much better after you've cleared the kitchen counters, or cleaned the bedroom, or organized that closet? Getting rid of clutter feels great! Well, I could use a week with no responsibilities except for straightening out my brain. After all, clutter there needs to be thinned and put in order too.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Sheer Hosiery
Remember "tights"? Winter tights were like thick socks that little girls wore, but they went all the way up to your tummy instead of just up to your knees. Summer tights were much thinner than winter tights, but still much thicker than the nylons that Grown-Ups (tm) wore.
In recent years I've been noticing "sheer" on the labels of panty hose. Sheer, huh? Aren't they ALL sheer? Apparently not. I finally figured out one of the reasons for the opaque hose: they hide tattoos. (Boy, the things I've learned in the last year.)
In recent years I've been noticing "sheer" on the labels of panty hose. Sheer, huh? Aren't they ALL sheer? Apparently not. I finally figured out one of the reasons for the opaque hose: they hide tattoos. (Boy, the things I've learned in the last year.)
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
How to Keep the Law
So there's the active obedience of Christ. He followed rules. He did what He was supposed to do. And there's the passive obedience of Christ. He took the punishment that the law demanded.
You want to make God happy with how you obey the law? You can try and try and try. You can do your darnedest to follow the rules. You might even do a bang-up job of it! But you're not going to do it absolutely totally perfectly, every single day of your life. After all, there was that naughtiness one day when you were learning to crawl, which you might not remember, but your mom will. And what does the law demand for that? Yup, "the wages of sin is death."
So the only way to keep the law would be to spend eternity in hell, if only in payment for those occasional slip-ups. If you don't suffer eternally, then you didn't do what the law demanded, did you? But if you have to spend eternity in hell to fulfill the law's demands, then you can't enjoy God's company in heaven, because you're in hell, and .... oh ... phooey, ... there's just no way to do it!
Exactly.
That's just how STUCK we are when we want to earn heaven. It's an impossibility, an inescapable conundrum.
But with God, all things are possible. Who will set me free from this body of death? Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory in our Lord Jesus Christ!
Keeping the law.
It's not just about doing everything right.
It's mainly about living through the punishment.
You want to make God happy with how you obey the law? You can try and try and try. You can do your darnedest to follow the rules. You might even do a bang-up job of it! But you're not going to do it absolutely totally perfectly, every single day of your life. After all, there was that naughtiness one day when you were learning to crawl, which you might not remember, but your mom will. And what does the law demand for that? Yup, "the wages of sin is death."
So the only way to keep the law would be to spend eternity in hell, if only in payment for those occasional slip-ups. If you don't suffer eternally, then you didn't do what the law demanded, did you? But if you have to spend eternity in hell to fulfill the law's demands, then you can't enjoy God's company in heaven, because you're in hell, and .... oh ... phooey, ... there's just no way to do it!
Exactly.
That's just how STUCK we are when we want to earn heaven. It's an impossibility, an inescapable conundrum.
But with God, all things are possible. Who will set me free from this body of death? Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory in our Lord Jesus Christ!
Keeping the law.
It's not just about doing everything right.
It's mainly about living through the punishment.
A Quick Run-down of Recent Events
My sister's baby was born. He was a few weeks early and spent time in NICU because he just can't seem to stay warm.
Gary's mom was hospitalized the same week Matthew was born.
I'm subbing at work again this week, third week out of four. Next week I think I'm back to a more manageable number of hours.
Lots of rain. Garden is still on hold for the sake of mud.
Katie and Nathan and girls are moving to a new apartment later this month.
Maggie has testing next week at the public school. We have an IEP meeting planned for the end of the month. Then we have to decide what to do with their recommendations.
Andrew finishes his spring semester at the end of next week. Then he and Olivia are going to prom that weekend.
I'm finishing up two different editing projects.
Gary had some interviews regarding a different position with the company he works for.
And a lot of other stuff that is important, but not so succinct ....
Gary's mom was hospitalized the same week Matthew was born.
I'm subbing at work again this week, third week out of four. Next week I think I'm back to a more manageable number of hours.
Lots of rain. Garden is still on hold for the sake of mud.
Katie and Nathan and girls are moving to a new apartment later this month.
Maggie has testing next week at the public school. We have an IEP meeting planned for the end of the month. Then we have to decide what to do with their recommendations.
Andrew finishes his spring semester at the end of next week. Then he and Olivia are going to prom that weekend.
I'm finishing up two different editing projects.
Gary had some interviews regarding a different position with the company he works for.
And a lot of other stuff that is important, but not so succinct ....
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
"But I Heard What You Said"
I'm trying not to be paranoid.
There are people who are nice to me. At least, they're nice to my face. But I hear them talk behind other people's backs ... and be nice to their face.
So why should I think they're not talking about me behind my back?
It makes me want to clam up and hide in self-defense, so as not to give them any more ammunition.
There are people who are nice to me. At least, they're nice to my face. But I hear them talk behind other people's backs ... and be nice to their face.
So why should I think they're not talking about me behind my back?
It makes me want to clam up and hide in self-defense, so as not to give them any more ammunition.
Monday, May 07, 2012
Strawberries
I guess we'll be buying them this year instead of eating delectable homegrown ones.
After that warm spell in early March, the weather seemed to go into refrigeration mode. My strawberry plants didn't know what to make of it. After lots of pruning away last year, they needed to replenish themselves, but haven't been able to. When I checked the patch today, I saw that the plants were already blooming and quite a few of the strawberry flowers had black middles, which I suspect means they were killed by one of the recent frosts.
The small cherry tree suffered the same fate. It looks pitiful. The larger, older cherry tree blooms later and will probably bear a little. Luckily, the apples haven't bloomed yet.
Y'know, this isn't the solution I was wanting for carpal-tunnel problems that result from hulling strawberries and pitting cherries.
After that warm spell in early March, the weather seemed to go into refrigeration mode. My strawberry plants didn't know what to make of it. After lots of pruning away last year, they needed to replenish themselves, but haven't been able to. When I checked the patch today, I saw that the plants were already blooming and quite a few of the strawberry flowers had black middles, which I suspect means they were killed by one of the recent frosts.
The small cherry tree suffered the same fate. It looks pitiful. The larger, older cherry tree blooms later and will probably bear a little. Luckily, the apples haven't bloomed yet.
Y'know, this isn't the solution I was wanting for carpal-tunnel problems that result from hulling strawberries and pitting cherries.
Sunday, May 06, 2012
Since Jesus Crossed What River?
Death's flood has lost its chill
since Jesus crossed the river.
Lover of souls, from ill
my passing soul deliver. (LSB 482)
A choir director or a pastor or somebody told me once that this was an allusion to the river Styx. Greek mythology. The place of the dead. Charon ferrying the dead person across.
Really?
But this year it crossed my mind that many aspects of mythology have roots in the truth. Sure, the truth was twisted, sometimes almost beyond recognition. In this case, the truth is that Canaan was the Promised Land to which God was leading the children of Israel. And Canaan is a type of the promised land. As the Israelites were baptized in the crossing of the Red Sea and then spent decades on their pilgrimage, so we are baptized into Christ and then spend our lives on a pilgrimage. They crossed the Jordan River into the promised land. We cross from our earthly pilgrim life into the promised land of heaven. Maybe the Jordan is where the myth of the Styx came from.
So maybe the hymn isn't alluding to the Styx, but maybe the story of the Styx found its beginning in God's story.
since Jesus crossed the river.
Lover of souls, from ill
my passing soul deliver. (LSB 482)
A choir director or a pastor or somebody told me once that this was an allusion to the river Styx. Greek mythology. The place of the dead. Charon ferrying the dead person across.
Really?
But this year it crossed my mind that many aspects of mythology have roots in the truth. Sure, the truth was twisted, sometimes almost beyond recognition. In this case, the truth is that Canaan was the Promised Land to which God was leading the children of Israel. And Canaan is a type of the promised land. As the Israelites were baptized in the crossing of the Red Sea and then spent decades on their pilgrimage, so we are baptized into Christ and then spend our lives on a pilgrimage. They crossed the Jordan River into the promised land. We cross from our earthly pilgrim life into the promised land of heaven. Maybe the Jordan is where the myth of the Styx came from.
So maybe the hymn isn't alluding to the Styx, but maybe the story of the Styx found its beginning in God's story.
Saturday, May 05, 2012
Hoarding
Warm days. Need shorts.
Rather than doing the usual quickie clothes-switch, I did it right this time. No grabbing a couple of things out of the boxes here and there. I pulled everything out of the drawers and closets, sorted through everything in storage, and pulled out only enough clothes to be reasonable: several outfits for work, a couple that can be worn to church but wouldn't be allowed at work, and play clothes for only three days per week.
Thrown away:
~ A sweatshirt that was so stained that even *I* was ashamed to be seen it. Even in the garden. Same for a pair of shorts that were too small, too-often mended, and horribly stained.
~ My favorite pair of shorts!! (Eventually cotton simply disintegrates.)
~ Pantyhose full of snags but not actual holes yet.
~ Socks that have two quarter-sized holes (per sock, not per pair) in the soles.
Put away:
~ Wool socks that weren't worn during winter because I wore my flipflops that make my feet feel wonderful in spite of the cold.
~ Jeans that are too tight -- because I intend to fit into them again.
~ Sweatshirts and other warm sweaters that were necessary before middle-aged hormones warmed me up.
~ Same for the CuddleDuds.
~ Lovely dresses that crowd the closet, but are otherwise fine and will be hauled out another year.
~ Same for the T-shirts that bring back memories, but there are too many.
~ Same for the excess jammies.
~ A couple of beautiful skirts for which I have not yet found matching tops.
Brought out:
~ A couple of sundresses.
~ Shorts.
What was removed greatly outnumbered what was added. I can [gasp!] open & close my dresser drawers without cramming clothes down into the drawers. I can find what's in the drawers. And I can look through the closet.
"They" say I should get rid of the stuff I put away. "They" say I won't lose weight and be able to wear it again. "They" say that you should get rid of something that you haven't worn in a year.
I say I'm not ready. Who knows when I'll get the perfect hand-me-down top to go with that skirt I love so much? If I had enough money to buy an all-new wardrobe every season, it would be different. If I had enough fashion sense to want to wear up-to-date clothing, it would also be different. But I know what I like, no matter how frumpy I look. And I really like "shopping" in my basement instead of heading out to the mall and forking over cash.
So there.
(When I'm ready to move into a one-bedroom condo, maybe I'll have the sense to change my hoarding ways.)
Rather than doing the usual quickie clothes-switch, I did it right this time. No grabbing a couple of things out of the boxes here and there. I pulled everything out of the drawers and closets, sorted through everything in storage, and pulled out only enough clothes to be reasonable: several outfits for work, a couple that can be worn to church but wouldn't be allowed at work, and play clothes for only three days per week.
Thrown away:
~ A sweatshirt that was so stained that even *I* was ashamed to be seen it. Even in the garden. Same for a pair of shorts that were too small, too-often mended, and horribly stained.
~ My favorite pair of shorts!! (Eventually cotton simply disintegrates.)
~ Pantyhose full of snags but not actual holes yet.
~ Socks that have two quarter-sized holes (per sock, not per pair) in the soles.
Put away:
~ Wool socks that weren't worn during winter because I wore my flipflops that make my feet feel wonderful in spite of the cold.
~ Jeans that are too tight -- because I intend to fit into them again.
~ Sweatshirts and other warm sweaters that were necessary before middle-aged hormones warmed me up.
~ Same for the CuddleDuds.
~ Lovely dresses that crowd the closet, but are otherwise fine and will be hauled out another year.
~ Same for the T-shirts that bring back memories, but there are too many.
~ Same for the excess jammies.
~ A couple of beautiful skirts for which I have not yet found matching tops.
Brought out:
~ A couple of sundresses.
~ Shorts.
What was removed greatly outnumbered what was added. I can [gasp!] open & close my dresser drawers without cramming clothes down into the drawers. I can find what's in the drawers. And I can look through the closet.
"They" say I should get rid of the stuff I put away. "They" say I won't lose weight and be able to wear it again. "They" say that you should get rid of something that you haven't worn in a year.
I say I'm not ready. Who knows when I'll get the perfect hand-me-down top to go with that skirt I love so much? If I had enough money to buy an all-new wardrobe every season, it would be different. If I had enough fashion sense to want to wear up-to-date clothing, it would also be different. But I know what I like, no matter how frumpy I look. And I really like "shopping" in my basement instead of heading out to the mall and forking over cash.
So there.
(When I'm ready to move into a one-bedroom condo, maybe I'll have the sense to change my hoarding ways.)
Friday, May 04, 2012
Jelly Legs
It's been about three and a half years since I stopped jogging every day. Gaining weight and changing shape is one result. But what's far more important is that I've become weaker in every way. I keep determining that I will get back in shape. But between time constraints and physical pain, I don't.
So with good intentions I set off today on a mini bike ride. Baby steps, y'know. I planned for a whoppin' mile-and-a-half. Today I almost had to get off the bike to walk it up the hill in front of Luecks' house. Good grief. Came home to a heart thump-thumpin' away and legs that felt like jelly.
And it crossed my mind that I really have empathy for Maggie now. Not sympathy. Not instructions. Not cheerleading. But empathy.
And I'm wondering if the cysts and the misshapen foot bones and the leg pain, all of which combined to end my jogging regimen, were gifts from God. Maybe these things put Maggie and me at the same point. Maybe if we are equally out-of-shape, equally inept, equally weak, we can make our feeble attempts together.
Or maybe I'll continue in my discouragement and physical weakness.
I hope not. I gotta try again tomorrow. We gotta.
So with good intentions I set off today on a mini bike ride. Baby steps, y'know. I planned for a whoppin' mile-and-a-half. Today I almost had to get off the bike to walk it up the hill in front of Luecks' house. Good grief. Came home to a heart thump-thumpin' away and legs that felt like jelly.
And it crossed my mind that I really have empathy for Maggie now. Not sympathy. Not instructions. Not cheerleading. But empathy.
And I'm wondering if the cysts and the misshapen foot bones and the leg pain, all of which combined to end my jogging regimen, were gifts from God. Maybe these things put Maggie and me at the same point. Maybe if we are equally out-of-shape, equally inept, equally weak, we can make our feeble attempts together.
Or maybe I'll continue in my discouragement and physical weakness.
I hope not. I gotta try again tomorrow. We gotta.
Penance and Prayer
"So why would a priest give out the Lord's Prayer for punishment?"
-- Asked by Maggie today as we were reading chapter 37 in Ivanhoe, where the head of all the Templar knights was assigning penance to the guy in charge of the local group of Templars. The penance was 13 Our Fathers at Matins and 9 at Vespers, plus six weeks fasting from meat.
Assigning prayer as punishment. Excellent point.
Is praying really that distasteful, that you only do it when you're trying to ingratiate yourself with God?
-- Asked by Maggie today as we were reading chapter 37 in Ivanhoe, where the head of all the Templar knights was assigning penance to the guy in charge of the local group of Templars. The penance was 13 Our Fathers at Matins and 9 at Vespers, plus six weeks fasting from meat.
Assigning prayer as punishment. Excellent point.
Is praying really that distasteful, that you only do it when you're trying to ingratiate yourself with God?
Thursday, May 03, 2012
Gath
In one of our Bible stories this week (1 Samuel 5) the ark of the covenant was captured by the Philistines. All sorts of bad stuff happened in Ashdod, where the Lord's ark was. Then the ark was taken from Ashdod to Gath. The same bad stuff happened in Gath – plague and tumors. The Philistine people concluded that Yahwah was zotting them.
Goliath was from Gath. He would have known this. This plague would’ve been during his lifetime or maybe shortly before (during his parents’ lifetime). But still, he shows up on the battlefields a few chapters later, sassing God. Amazing.
Not Seeing
In Luke 24, we hear about the Emmaus disciples whose eyes were restrained, and they didn't recognize Him.
In John 20, we hear about Mary, weeping in the garden. When she saw Jesus, she didn't know at first who He was.
I never put those two stories together before. Huh.
The blind shall see .... (Isaiah 29)
In John 20, we hear about Mary, weeping in the garden. When she saw Jesus, she didn't know at first who He was.
I never put those two stories together before. Huh.
The blind shall see .... (Isaiah 29)
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Gathered to His People
In the Old Testament, when people die, it often says, "He was gathered to his people." I always thought that meant his soul went to be with the departed saints who had gone before. But we heard last week in Bible class that it's more likely a reference to burial. The believers were often buried in the same tomb as the rest of the family, so that their bones were together. What's more convincing is the stories of those who weren't "gathered to their people" -- like Sarah (who was the first in Abraham's family to die and for whom the family's burial plot was purchased) and Joseph (who was mummified).
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
The Boss's View of My Kid
It makes me so gosh-darn proud when my kid's recommendation gets somebody a job!
Katie got her job at Burger King because the manager figured hiring any of Philip's siblings would be a good move.
Philip got his job at Borders because Rachel worked there. But more than that, Rachel's reputation carried enough weight through the whole region that Anthea, Coral, and Maria were hired at other Borders stores.
Tony asked Andrew the other day if he should hire James (one of the guys at church). Andrew said yes. Because Andrew had recommended Matthew, and that turned out so well for the boss, the owner decided to take another recommendation from Andrew.
Heeding my kid's recommendation on who-to-hire says a lot about what the boss thinks of the kid's work ethic, reliability, and intelligence!
Katie got her job at Burger King because the manager figured hiring any of Philip's siblings would be a good move.
Philip got his job at Borders because Rachel worked there. But more than that, Rachel's reputation carried enough weight through the whole region that Anthea, Coral, and Maria were hired at other Borders stores.
Tony asked Andrew the other day if he should hire James (one of the guys at church). Andrew said yes. Because Andrew had recommended Matthew, and that turned out so well for the boss, the owner decided to take another recommendation from Andrew.
Heeding my kid's recommendation on who-to-hire says a lot about what the boss thinks of the kid's work ethic, reliability, and intelligence!
Monday, April 30, 2012
Looking Professional
There's some standard of what it is to "look professional." Although I am aware of it, I don't value it. There is a dress code at work, and I haven't gotten in trouble for looking unprofessional. I don't have the manicure. I don't have the spiffy suitcoats. I don't have the right shoes. I don't have the make-up. I don't have the right haircut with the blond highlights. But I am clean and I abide by the dress code. And so far that's fine.
I am disgusted by the articles in the "Home" section of the newspaper about staging a house that's for sale. I realize that the sellers may have to do it. But I'm disgusted with a society when our decision-making is so heavily influenced by such things.
So when I hear about staging for job interviews, I am likewise disgusted. I realize that the person applying for the job has to play the game. But c'mon, really, do we think that having the Right Kind of folder or Right Kind of briefcase or Right Kind of car should give one person an edge in being hired?
Cookie cutters.
We say we value creativity and individuality and open-mindedness and problem-solving.
We lie.
We value rubber stamps and cookie cutters.
Signed,
The square peg who doesn't want
sandpaper to fix me so that I'll fit
the round hole
I am disgusted by the articles in the "Home" section of the newspaper about staging a house that's for sale. I realize that the sellers may have to do it. But I'm disgusted with a society when our decision-making is so heavily influenced by such things.
So when I hear about staging for job interviews, I am likewise disgusted. I realize that the person applying for the job has to play the game. But c'mon, really, do we think that having the Right Kind of folder or Right Kind of briefcase or Right Kind of car should give one person an edge in being hired?
Cookie cutters.
We say we value creativity and individuality and open-mindedness and problem-solving.
We lie.
We value rubber stamps and cookie cutters.
Signed,
The square peg who doesn't want
sandpaper to fix me so that I'll fit
the round hole
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Hosiery for Tall Girls
"One size fits all." HA. Big fat lie. HA.
I have discovered two possibilities for those of the lanky-leg problem.
First, there's a problem with "knee-highs" that come up to mid-calf, nowhere close to your knees. I tried the smallest size of "thigh-highs." I don't know what's wrong with my legs; thigh-highs in my size simply do not work. My thighs may be too fat; they may be too thin; the band at the top always ends up scootched down by my knees. So, if I buy the size intended for a scrawny girl of 5'0", the thigh-highs will fit me as just-above-the-knee socks. And that works fine for skirts that hit well below the knee.
One problem solved.
Second, there's a problem with panty-hose that you take out of the package, and you could swear that this pair of stockings was manufactured for a 6-yr-old. C'mon, they're stretchy. But not that stretchy. I recently bought a package of Leggs Queen-Plus hose. According to the package I'm too skinny to wear these. But my rule-of-thumb is to buy a pair of hose for somebody who weighs 50% more than I do, and then the stockings might actually fit. When I pulled this pair of Leggs Queen-Plus out of the package, they were the most freakin'-long hose I'd ever seen in my life. It was awesome! It gave me hope! I have no idea how a 5'2" and 240# woman would ever ever ever get into these hose, regardless of the claims on the package's sizing chart. I think the Queen Plus was made for someone 110-160# who's got a 32-36" inseam.
Second problem solved ... assuming the hose I bought were actually what they were supposed to be, and not some lucky fluke of a mistake that made its way past quality control into my home.
I have discovered two possibilities for those of the lanky-leg problem.
First, there's a problem with "knee-highs" that come up to mid-calf, nowhere close to your knees. I tried the smallest size of "thigh-highs." I don't know what's wrong with my legs; thigh-highs in my size simply do not work. My thighs may be too fat; they may be too thin; the band at the top always ends up scootched down by my knees. So, if I buy the size intended for a scrawny girl of 5'0", the thigh-highs will fit me as just-above-the-knee socks. And that works fine for skirts that hit well below the knee.
One problem solved.
Second, there's a problem with panty-hose that you take out of the package, and you could swear that this pair of stockings was manufactured for a 6-yr-old. C'mon, they're stretchy. But not that stretchy. I recently bought a package of Leggs Queen-Plus hose. According to the package I'm too skinny to wear these. But my rule-of-thumb is to buy a pair of hose for somebody who weighs 50% more than I do, and then the stockings might actually fit. When I pulled this pair of Leggs Queen-Plus out of the package, they were the most freakin'-long hose I'd ever seen in my life. It was awesome! It gave me hope! I have no idea how a 5'2" and 240# woman would ever ever ever get into these hose, regardless of the claims on the package's sizing chart. I think the Queen Plus was made for someone 110-160# who's got a 32-36" inseam.
Second problem solved ... assuming the hose I bought were actually what they were supposed to be, and not some lucky fluke of a mistake that made its way past quality control into my home.
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