Okay, you guys. We watched Spanglish as suggested. I'm not sure what I think.
Warning: spoilers ahead! If you don't want to know how the movie turns out, stop reading now. (Personally, I like spoilers. They save me time because I don't have to go back and watch an intriguing movie the second time.)
On the one hand, as Hollywood goes, I figure they think the husband/father and the maid (or nanny or whatever she was) did the right thing, in that "nothing happened." It was refreshing to see a husband being patient with a nutty wife, and being good to his children without undermining his nutso wife.
And yet, it seems to me that the movie glorifies adultery. Not in the way that so many Hollywood movies do. But still, I can't get over the fact that the husband and the nanny ended up on a romantic date, dinner by candlelight with soft music in the background, cuddling the evening away, and even kissing a few times. In my mind, that's cheating on his wife -- Bill Clinton's opinion notwithstanding. It's adultery. Man oh man, if MY husband were "just cuddling" or "just kissing" another woman, I would not be a happy camper! Even though the relationship went no further than that, and even though they put an end to seeing each other [the nanny quit her job], what happened between them was still wrong. Seriously wrong. And yet, we're left with the impression that we're supposed to say "good for them!" that they denied their desires and didn't indulge fully in the adultery that lured them.
The biggest "hooray!" in the movie went to the mom/nanny when she pulled her daughter away from the upper-class white world. The mom had to quit the job to avoid temptation. But the daughter didn't want to leave the Anglo world. She liked her private school and the nice clothes and the friends and the fancy-schmancy house and the pool and all the other trappings. But the mom/nanny knew it was bad for her daughter's values. While the daughter was yelling "I hate you!" and "I'll never forgive you for this!" the mom remained calm and collected, never budging from doing what she knew was right (though highly uncomfortable) for her daughter. That was the shining moment of the film for me!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Klutz Castles
One of Christmas gifts was a new toy from the Klutz folks: a card set for building castles. My youngest simply doesn't have the manual dexterity or the patience to build card-houses. But this set from Klutz is a heavier cardboard than playing cards are, and the cards are slotted, so they fit together without slipping and sliding. Even better, they're decorated as though they were brick or wood, and some cards even have doors or battlements.
It was just in the past year that my 12-yr-old began to understand how to build a simple Lego house, or an interlocking wall of Legos. So this Klutz card set was not easy for her to do, but it was do-able. Some of the older kids (the ones who are very good with spatial skills) have made some pretty cool castles.
For the price, this is one nifty building set!!
It was just in the past year that my 12-yr-old began to understand how to build a simple Lego house, or an interlocking wall of Legos. So this Klutz card set was not easy for her to do, but it was do-able. Some of the older kids (the ones who are very good with spatial skills) have made some pretty cool castles.
For the price, this is one nifty building set!!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
"Searching for Bobby Fischer"
Upon recommendation from some friends, we watched this movie. We loved it!
When the young chess whiz was first becoming interested in chess, he arranged his Playmobile people in a chess line-up. My daughter and I both gasped: my kids did that! They played chess with Playmobile kings and knights, with the little kids for pawns.
I loved the line near the middle of the movie where the boy was beginning to feel the pressure of being ranked #1. It went something like this: "Maybe it would be better not to be the best. Then nobody would be disappointed if you lost." There's some serious wisdom there if an over-achieving society has ears to hear.
When the young chess whiz was first becoming interested in chess, he arranged his Playmobile people in a chess line-up. My daughter and I both gasped: my kids did that! They played chess with Playmobile kings and knights, with the little kids for pawns.
I loved the line near the middle of the movie where the boy was beginning to feel the pressure of being ranked #1. It went something like this: "Maybe it would be better not to be the best. Then nobody would be disappointed if you lost." There's some serious wisdom there if an over-achieving society has ears to hear.
Friday, January 05, 2007
A Mess
Trust me on this: it is a bad plan to break a liter-sized bottle of olive oil in your trunk, amongst all the other groceries. No. No. I know you want to go try it, just to see if I'm really telling the truth. But really, you should trust me on this. You don't have to test out the veracity of my claim.
If a liter of olive oil is disgorged into a paper grocery-sack, you get to wash every can and bottle in that sack, in very hot and soapy water, before you can put the groceries away. You also will have a big sticky stain on the carpet in the car's trunk. And you will drip olive oil all over the garage floor. Furthermore, no matter how careful you are with the mess, you will of course get way too much olive oil splashed on the kitchen counters and kitchen floor. (Naturally, this spillage will occur only an hour after someone at home mops the kitchen floor while you were fetching the groceries which you decided to slather with olive oil on your way home.)
Unless you stockpile paper towels in your home, you will use up the whole roll of disposable towels in an effort to get olive oil off the kitchen steps, off the kitchen cupboard doors, out of the bottom of the trash can, off the bumper of the car, and off the doorknobs.
And while you are cleaning up this mess, you will overcook the hamburgers for lunch. Which means you also get to spend half an hour scrubbing the broiler pan to remove charred barbecue sauce. Furthermore, the soles of your shoes will be well-greased so that you can skate across the kitchen floor, whether you want to slipslide around or not.
In a few days, today's events will be funny. :-) And I'm sure it was very good for my hands to be doused in that much olive oil for as long as it took me to clean up that mess.
But nevertheless, don't let that tempt you to try it!
If a liter of olive oil is disgorged into a paper grocery-sack, you get to wash every can and bottle in that sack, in very hot and soapy water, before you can put the groceries away. You also will have a big sticky stain on the carpet in the car's trunk. And you will drip olive oil all over the garage floor. Furthermore, no matter how careful you are with the mess, you will of course get way too much olive oil splashed on the kitchen counters and kitchen floor. (Naturally, this spillage will occur only an hour after someone at home mops the kitchen floor while you were fetching the groceries which you decided to slather with olive oil on your way home.)
Unless you stockpile paper towels in your home, you will use up the whole roll of disposable towels in an effort to get olive oil off the kitchen steps, off the kitchen cupboard doors, out of the bottom of the trash can, off the bumper of the car, and off the doorknobs.
And while you are cleaning up this mess, you will overcook the hamburgers for lunch. Which means you also get to spend half an hour scrubbing the broiler pan to remove charred barbecue sauce. Furthermore, the soles of your shoes will be well-greased so that you can skate across the kitchen floor, whether you want to slipslide around or not.
In a few days, today's events will be funny. :-) And I'm sure it was very good for my hands to be doused in that much olive oil for as long as it took me to clean up that mess.
But nevertheless, don't let that tempt you to try it!
Spiritual Auto-Pilot
The comment has been made recently that "some Lutherans think that good works are something that 'just happen' on some sort of a spiritual auto-pilot."
What part of fruit do such people not understand?
For some reason, Jesus called good works the fruit of faith. Last I checked on my grape vines or my blackberry canes, the fruit-bearing actually was on auto-pilot. I suspect Jesus knew that when he used the term "fruit."
(Dan at Necessary Roughness brought up the topic and a little discussion ensued.)
What part of fruit do such people not understand?
For some reason, Jesus called good works the fruit of faith. Last I checked on my grape vines or my blackberry canes, the fruit-bearing actually was on auto-pilot. I suspect Jesus knew that when he used the term "fruit."
(Dan at Necessary Roughness brought up the topic and a little discussion ensued.)
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Hospital Update - 2
Today's x-rays showed that Maggie's lung is no longer collapsed; she popped open the bottom lobe. Her left lung still doesn't look quite as clear as her right, but it's open and improving!
She lost weight during the surgery and hospitalization, but she lost even more from the collapsed lung. It was good to see she's gained back half of what she lost from the lung problem.
On the "Insurance meets Speech Therapy" front, I've discovered that our old perfect therapist is still practicing three afternoons a week but is not in-network for insurance coverage. Figuring that we'll have to stay in-network, I started hunting speech therapists. We either have to go to Illinois or to Milwaukee. Most of the Illinois locations are closer than Milwaukee, but take just as long to drive to because of the infamous Chicago traffic. I'm seriously considering paying out-of-pocket for our old therapist because she's so much closer than the other options (one-hour roundtrip instead of two) and because she's entirely willing to train me to do the work so that we only have to go a few times and check back periodically instead of going 3 times weekly.
We're wondering too if the collapsed lung could've led to the hypernasality. Now that the lung is reinflated, maybe we just need to work on undoing the bad habits that took hold while Mag was trying to protect herself from pain in the chest. (Hey, I can hope, can't I?)
She lost weight during the surgery and hospitalization, but she lost even more from the collapsed lung. It was good to see she's gained back half of what she lost from the lung problem.
On the "Insurance meets Speech Therapy" front, I've discovered that our old perfect therapist is still practicing three afternoons a week but is not in-network for insurance coverage. Figuring that we'll have to stay in-network, I started hunting speech therapists. We either have to go to Illinois or to Milwaukee. Most of the Illinois locations are closer than Milwaukee, but take just as long to drive to because of the infamous Chicago traffic. I'm seriously considering paying out-of-pocket for our old therapist because she's so much closer than the other options (one-hour roundtrip instead of two) and because she's entirely willing to train me to do the work so that we only have to go a few times and check back periodically instead of going 3 times weekly.
We're wondering too if the collapsed lung could've led to the hypernasality. Now that the lung is reinflated, maybe we just need to work on undoing the bad habits that took hold while Mag was trying to protect herself from pain in the chest. (Hey, I can hope, can't I?)
Distribution Hymn for Epiphany
The distribution hymn last night was As With Gladness Men of Old, fine but not exactly a hymn on my top-ten list. But I lucked into perfect timing again!
Luther commented on the Lord's Supper being the manger in which He nows lies. "As with joyful steps they sped, Savior, to Thy lowly bed" could refer to us going to the Sacrament as much as it refers to the Wise Men going to see Jesus in His crib. "There to bend the knee before Thee whom heaven and earth adore," and we do kneel at the altar rail. As the mercyseat was the place of God's gracious presence and was the location of the pouring out of the Lamb's atoning blood, "So may we with willing feet ever seek Thy mercyseat!"
Luther commented on the Lord's Supper being the manger in which He nows lies. "As with joyful steps they sped, Savior, to Thy lowly bed" could refer to us going to the Sacrament as much as it refers to the Wise Men going to see Jesus in His crib. "There to bend the knee before Thee whom heaven and earth adore," and we do kneel at the altar rail. As the mercyseat was the place of God's gracious presence and was the location of the pouring out of the Lamb's atoning blood, "So may we with willing feet ever seek Thy mercyseat!"
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
An Art, Not a Science
After having spent the evening websurfing items such as ionized calcium levels, renal abnormalities, schizophrenia, and thrombocytopenia, I crawled into bed with a heavy heart and a mind swimming with medical jargon.
When Maggie was first diagnosed with VCFS, it seemed like the experts wanted to put her under a microscope and check for every possible abnormality they could find. And there were so many they could find! After discussion with our family doctor (and with his blessing) we concluded that we'd deal with problems as they arose. But we wouldn't try to check everything periodically "just to see how things are going." I know that's not the typical attitude among Americans. We are told to get our annual check-ups, and to expect that cancer and diabetes and wife-abuse and car accidents and heart attacks are lurking just around the corner, waiting to jump out and destroy us. We are told that if there are enough tests and screenings, we can find these things early and do something about them. Sometimes that's true. Other times it causes needless worry. The whole mindset of expecting there to be problems can, in itself, influence attitudes so as to create new problems where they wouldn't have been. How many times I've read articles for parents of special-needs kids, trying to convince the parents to see the child as a person instead of a Mishmosh Of Diagnoses! Thanks, docs, but I'd prefer to live with the person who is my beloved daughter than to begin wading in the pool of Mishmosh.
Furthermore, I don't believe in traditional Western medicine to the extent that most of the experts do. I believe that science informs medicine, and we are grateful for what we've learned. But nevertheless, medicine is an art, not a science. All drugs have side-effects. The decision to use a drug is made when the benefits outweigh the side-effects. But experts who believe in science (to the same extent that I believe in God) oftentimes don't want to acknowledge the downsides of their Wonder Cures. The experts also have too little regard for nutrition. The Cherrix case (the 16 yr old from Chincoteauge who wanted to treat his second bout of cancer through alternative means) is a high-profile example that alternative views are not acceptable. It's not usually okay to tell a doctor "no thank you for the prescription vitamins/minerals" because I serve a lot of raw foods and give my daughter enzymes & probiotics with her Real Food home-cooked meals and let her drink kombucha.
Beyond the alternative views on medicine, what about alternative views on education? Education is not a science either. There is a particular path we are supposed to follow for the education of VCFS kids. I don't like where that path leads. When I went to a few support group meetings, the parents were beside themselves with frustration over their kids' inability to read, do math, get along with the other kids at school. They were spending huge amounts of time fighting the school for appropriate attention for their kids. It was like they were on a hamster's exercise wheel, expending all this energy fighting the system, getting nowhere. Thing is, even at its best, the system isn't giving the kind of results I want for my child. So instead, we here are doing it "wrong." We're not using the textbooks recommended by the experts. We're not on a strict schedule. We're not trying to make this child fit a mold that is wrong for her. And it seems to be working out smashingly well. Math is a struggle and always will be, but Maggie can understand stories, and by all rights, she's not supposed to be able to do that. We get along with each other. She has friends. The doctor commented yesterday on how incredibly well we're coping with the VCFS. Maggie doesn't see herself as a defective person who needs to spend all day every day being tweaked and repaired and improved. This is good.
Everybody thinks the heart surgery was a big deal. Well, I suppose it was. But surgery is a cake-walk compared to these kinds of decisions. Surgery was one big (scary) to-do; a mechanical fix to a misfitted pipe, done and over with in due time. But these decisions are long-term. They influence what we do every day, influence what kind of stories we read, influence the schedule, influence what we eat and when, influence when we can pray. These decisions will impact our thoughts and feelings and relationships and self-esteem and time constraints. These are decisions that put us in a position where we have to tell the experts that we know better than they do what is best for this one particular child. Because medicine is an art, not a science. But try telling that to people whose god is the "science of medicine."
When Maggie was first diagnosed with VCFS, it seemed like the experts wanted to put her under a microscope and check for every possible abnormality they could find. And there were so many they could find! After discussion with our family doctor (and with his blessing) we concluded that we'd deal with problems as they arose. But we wouldn't try to check everything periodically "just to see how things are going." I know that's not the typical attitude among Americans. We are told to get our annual check-ups, and to expect that cancer and diabetes and wife-abuse and car accidents and heart attacks are lurking just around the corner, waiting to jump out and destroy us. We are told that if there are enough tests and screenings, we can find these things early and do something about them. Sometimes that's true. Other times it causes needless worry. The whole mindset of expecting there to be problems can, in itself, influence attitudes so as to create new problems where they wouldn't have been. How many times I've read articles for parents of special-needs kids, trying to convince the parents to see the child as a person instead of a Mishmosh Of Diagnoses! Thanks, docs, but I'd prefer to live with the person who is my beloved daughter than to begin wading in the pool of Mishmosh.
Furthermore, I don't believe in traditional Western medicine to the extent that most of the experts do. I believe that science informs medicine, and we are grateful for what we've learned. But nevertheless, medicine is an art, not a science. All drugs have side-effects. The decision to use a drug is made when the benefits outweigh the side-effects. But experts who believe in science (to the same extent that I believe in God) oftentimes don't want to acknowledge the downsides of their Wonder Cures. The experts also have too little regard for nutrition. The Cherrix case (the 16 yr old from Chincoteauge who wanted to treat his second bout of cancer through alternative means) is a high-profile example that alternative views are not acceptable. It's not usually okay to tell a doctor "no thank you for the prescription vitamins/minerals" because I serve a lot of raw foods and give my daughter enzymes & probiotics with her Real Food home-cooked meals and let her drink kombucha.
Beyond the alternative views on medicine, what about alternative views on education? Education is not a science either. There is a particular path we are supposed to follow for the education of VCFS kids. I don't like where that path leads. When I went to a few support group meetings, the parents were beside themselves with frustration over their kids' inability to read, do math, get along with the other kids at school. They were spending huge amounts of time fighting the school for appropriate attention for their kids. It was like they were on a hamster's exercise wheel, expending all this energy fighting the system, getting nowhere. Thing is, even at its best, the system isn't giving the kind of results I want for my child. So instead, we here are doing it "wrong." We're not using the textbooks recommended by the experts. We're not on a strict schedule. We're not trying to make this child fit a mold that is wrong for her. And it seems to be working out smashingly well. Math is a struggle and always will be, but Maggie can understand stories, and by all rights, she's not supposed to be able to do that. We get along with each other. She has friends. The doctor commented yesterday on how incredibly well we're coping with the VCFS. Maggie doesn't see herself as a defective person who needs to spend all day every day being tweaked and repaired and improved. This is good.
Everybody thinks the heart surgery was a big deal. Well, I suppose it was. But surgery is a cake-walk compared to these kinds of decisions. Surgery was one big (scary) to-do; a mechanical fix to a misfitted pipe, done and over with in due time. But these decisions are long-term. They influence what we do every day, influence what kind of stories we read, influence the schedule, influence what we eat and when, influence when we can pray. These decisions will impact our thoughts and feelings and relationships and self-esteem and time constraints. These are decisions that put us in a position where we have to tell the experts that we know better than they do what is best for this one particular child. Because medicine is an art, not a science. But try telling that to people whose god is the "science of medicine."
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Mice
What does this cat think her job IS, anyway???
Christmas Eve, my husband thought he heard a noise in the basement, but dismissed it. The next day, I went downstairs to get something and found a canning jar busted on the concrete floor. Closer examination proved that a mouse had been on that shelf and just bumped the glass jar far enough that gravity took over.
Creatures who leave poop on my shelves should die. (Exemptions made for human creatures who are having diaper issues.) Traps were set. Mousie got away with the snack on the first night. He died the second night. Traps have caught nothing since, and there have been no signs of any more blasted critters.
Yesterday I was doing paperwork for taxes and medical records. When I opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet (next to the shelves where mousie bit the dust) I found a huge messy nest. I screamed. I hate it when they start eating my insurance policies and the car-repair receipts. But not only that, the little monsters shred the tabs on the file folders so that you can't find the correct folder to put things away. Highly inconvenient.
At least they haven't resorted to an "upstairs apartment" in the file cabinet, where they could be eating tax forms and receipts I need for the IRS!
Christmas Eve, my husband thought he heard a noise in the basement, but dismissed it. The next day, I went downstairs to get something and found a canning jar busted on the concrete floor. Closer examination proved that a mouse had been on that shelf and just bumped the glass jar far enough that gravity took over.
Creatures who leave poop on my shelves should die. (Exemptions made for human creatures who are having diaper issues.) Traps were set. Mousie got away with the snack on the first night. He died the second night. Traps have caught nothing since, and there have been no signs of any more blasted critters.
Yesterday I was doing paperwork for taxes and medical records. When I opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet (next to the shelves where mousie bit the dust) I found a huge messy nest. I screamed. I hate it when they start eating my insurance policies and the car-repair receipts. But not only that, the little monsters shred the tabs on the file folders so that you can't find the correct folder to put things away. Highly inconvenient.
At least they haven't resorted to an "upstairs apartment" in the file cabinet, where they could be eating tax forms and receipts I need for the IRS!
Hospital Update - 1
We saw the ENT today because of questions regarding Maggie's hypernasality. (That means her voice is coming from her sinuses instead of from her throat.) The hypernasality was of sudden onset following surgery. The problem is not as bad as it was prior to her palate surgery six years ago. It's also good that there's been some slight improvement over the past five weeks. The doctor said we need an in-depth speech evaluation, an x-ray movie of what's going on when she's speaking, and possibly a visual look via the camera they thread through your nose. It will be an all-day appointment. He said he was hopeful that something as simple as a few months of therapy might be able to get her speech back on track and prevent it from deteriorating. With the sudden onset of the change, he's hopeful that it can be fixed relatively easily. (Right now, a few months of speech therapy -- with 60 or more minutes of driving for each appt -- does not sound "relatively easy" to me!)
He did not offer any explanations of what caused this change in Maggie's speech. He did say that occasionally use of the heart-lung machine may cause small clots that could lodge somewhere. He said these clots can cause memory loss, or minor stroke symptoms, or partial paralysis. So he postulated that there may have been something that interfered in a small way with her ability to move her pharynx and palate. But that's just a guess.
He also encouraged us to bring her in for the "VCFS Clinic" which pulls together all the specialists that would be needed for kids with VCFS. This is where the decisions become really difficult. One of the reasons Maggie is doing so well is because we're not doing what is "supposed" to be done with VCFS kids. On the one hand, we don't want to ignore problems that could be helped. On the other hand, sometimes the help brings with it side effects (from drugs or therapies) that outweigh the benefit. So this is going to be a gut-wrenching decision.
He did not offer any explanations of what caused this change in Maggie's speech. He did say that occasionally use of the heart-lung machine may cause small clots that could lodge somewhere. He said these clots can cause memory loss, or minor stroke symptoms, or partial paralysis. So he postulated that there may have been something that interfered in a small way with her ability to move her pharynx and palate. But that's just a guess.
He also encouraged us to bring her in for the "VCFS Clinic" which pulls together all the specialists that would be needed for kids with VCFS. This is where the decisions become really difficult. One of the reasons Maggie is doing so well is because we're not doing what is "supposed" to be done with VCFS kids. On the one hand, we don't want to ignore problems that could be helped. On the other hand, sometimes the help brings with it side effects (from drugs or therapies) that outweigh the benefit. So this is going to be a gut-wrenching decision.
Monday, January 01, 2007
The Prize-Winner
The movie The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio gives some interesting food for thought with regard to one's station in life. The story is set in the 50s and 60s. The mom of a large family enters contests and writes jingles; her winnings bail out the family from some close brushes with financial ruin. The problem is that the husband is an alcoholic and sometimes abusive.
What's interesting to watch is a husband who is often remorseful for his inability to provide for his family, who often regrets his enslavement to the bottle, but who nevertheless loves his wife and kids and would like to be able to do what is right. And we see a wife who loves him and forgives him, a wife who mothers the children and keeps the home going in spite of the difficulties, a woman who maintains a cheerful attitude and sticks with him, sinner though he be. It's not a pie-in-the-sky movie, but it nevertheless provides a startling contrast to the typical Hollywood fare wherein the husband is a lout, and where the woman finds happiness only through ditching him. It's not for little kids: there's "language" when the dad is in his drunken rages. But for the most part, it turns out a whole lot better than I would've ever expected from a movie. And there are a lot of funny parts and some good sound outlooks on life -- a general "feel good" movie.
What's interesting to watch is a husband who is often remorseful for his inability to provide for his family, who often regrets his enslavement to the bottle, but who nevertheless loves his wife and kids and would like to be able to do what is right. And we see a wife who loves him and forgives him, a wife who mothers the children and keeps the home going in spite of the difficulties, a woman who maintains a cheerful attitude and sticks with him, sinner though he be. It's not a pie-in-the-sky movie, but it nevertheless provides a startling contrast to the typical Hollywood fare wherein the husband is a lout, and where the woman finds happiness only through ditching him. It's not for little kids: there's "language" when the dad is in his drunken rages. But for the most part, it turns out a whole lot better than I would've ever expected from a movie. And there are a lot of funny parts and some good sound outlooks on life -- a general "feel good" movie.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
How Did Simeon Know?
"And it had been revealed to Simeon by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. So he came by the Spirit into the temple."
I had always thought of that in a mystic sort of way, that somehow the Holy Spirit gave Simeon a "feeling" or implanted an idea in his head. But a year or so ago, I noticed something in the previous chapter. Everybody knew what had happened with Zachariah and Elizabeth. They all knew that something was up with that baby. They knew that Zachariah had seen an angel while he was ministering at evening prayer. They knew that he was mute until he prophesied at John's circumcision. The rumor mill was not silent; Mary told Luke not only about the events of John's birth, but also that it was the talk of the town, and Luke recorded it under inspiration of the Holy Spirit. So I figured that Simeon knew that the Messiah was due "pretty soon."
But then Pastor pointed out that John's birth wasn't the only grist for the rumor mill. The shepherds told gobs of people what had happened when Jesus was born.
So Simeon didn't need some weird feeling from God to make him go to the temple that day. He'd heard the news. He'd heard the reports. If he himself hadn't heard the preaching of the shepherds, he heard the scuttlebutt from those who did. Baby boys were presented on the 40th day. If you wanted to see the Messiah, and you'd heard what happened with Zachariah, and then heard what happened to the shepherds, it'd sure be easy enough to count up the days on the calendar and thus know when you could find Mary and Joseph at the temple.
Simeon was not an Enthusiast!
I had always thought of that in a mystic sort of way, that somehow the Holy Spirit gave Simeon a "feeling" or implanted an idea in his head. But a year or so ago, I noticed something in the previous chapter. Everybody knew what had happened with Zachariah and Elizabeth. They all knew that something was up with that baby. They knew that Zachariah had seen an angel while he was ministering at evening prayer. They knew that he was mute until he prophesied at John's circumcision. The rumor mill was not silent; Mary told Luke not only about the events of John's birth, but also that it was the talk of the town, and Luke recorded it under inspiration of the Holy Spirit. So I figured that Simeon knew that the Messiah was due "pretty soon."
But then Pastor pointed out that John's birth wasn't the only grist for the rumor mill. The shepherds told gobs of people what had happened when Jesus was born.
So Simeon didn't need some weird feeling from God to make him go to the temple that day. He'd heard the news. He'd heard the reports. If he himself hadn't heard the preaching of the shepherds, he heard the scuttlebutt from those who did. Baby boys were presented on the 40th day. If you wanted to see the Messiah, and you'd heard what happened with Zachariah, and then heard what happened to the shepherds, it'd sure be easy enough to count up the days on the calendar and thus know when you could find Mary and Joseph at the temple.
Simeon was not an Enthusiast!
Friday, December 29, 2006
Unschooling Article
The Chicago Sun-Times recently ran an article on unschooling that is just great! I found it amusing that one of the parents used the term "factoids" like I do. What I thought was weird was the one unschooling dad who said, "We don't know that children are innately curious." Good grief, what children has he been observing? Granted, children's curiosity can be thwarted and squashed, but they are innately curious.
Hail, Highly Favored Lady
Driving to church on Sunday afternoon, I was looking for something on the radio. When I hit the pre-set button for NPR, the first carol that came on was "Gabriel's Message" (LSB 356), not exactly what I expected from NPR, but very welcome! It fit well with Sunday morning's Gospel.
Gabriel called Mary "highly favored one" and said she was blessed among women. When Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, she too called Mary "blessed among women."
What does it mean to be "highly favored"? Some of my friends almost make it sound like there was something special about Mary, something different, that caused God to choose her to be the Mother of Our Lord. Or if not that, maybe God made her into something special, something different, so that she could be His mother.
But what if Mary really was "just like us"? What if she really was just as much a sinner as I am? Like Pastor says, "favored" is grace-language. Isn't is possible that the title "highly favored one" is due not to what she was in her own person (with or without God's help) but rather due to what He declared her to be and because of the copious amounts of grace He was going to be showering upon her over the next 30+ years?
But if "highly favored" isn't about Mary's self, then you have to start wondering where the favor is. Surely it's not something as self-centered as being "famous" and that we all know about her. Instead, there were the realities of life she had to face when her family suspected that she been behaving sleezily, and then when she was on the run as a refugee, and then when she was tagged as the mother of a rabble-rouser -- that's not the kind of "favor" from God that most of us covet.
Gabriel calls her highly favored. Elizabeth calls her blessed. And Simeon says that a sword will pierce her soul. Personally, I suspect I'd tell God that I didn't want that kind of favor or blessing. Who needs pain and suffering? Who wants to be the outcast? Who wants to have her soul pierced?
And yet, maybe that's where the favor is found.
Maybe she is "highly favored" because she was appointed for a very difficult life, a life full of suffering, and that she would have a soul pierced in a way that she'd never choose for herself. When we suffer, we're driven to depend upon Jesus in a way that we never would otherwise. When our soul is pierced, He binds us up.
And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly will I rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12)
Maybe the "high favor" and the "blessedness" of Mary is the great measure of grace she received, commensurate with the sufferings she endured in being the mommy of Jesus. As much as we all hate suffering, would we actually choose to trade the comfort of the Absolution for something "easy"? Jesus said of a different Mary, "She loved much, for she was forgiven much." Maybe that's also related to the anfechtung that His mom would endure. Maybe the "high favor" was that the Blessed Virgin just needed to receive more of the Gospel, more of God's love, more of His support, more of His forgiveness, to continue living out the life she was called to as the Mother of Our Lord.
Gabriel called Mary "highly favored one" and said she was blessed among women. When Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, she too called Mary "blessed among women."
What does it mean to be "highly favored"? Some of my friends almost make it sound like there was something special about Mary, something different, that caused God to choose her to be the Mother of Our Lord. Or if not that, maybe God made her into something special, something different, so that she could be His mother.
But what if Mary really was "just like us"? What if she really was just as much a sinner as I am? Like Pastor says, "favored" is grace-language. Isn't is possible that the title "highly favored one" is due not to what she was in her own person (with or without God's help) but rather due to what He declared her to be and because of the copious amounts of grace He was going to be showering upon her over the next 30+ years?
But if "highly favored" isn't about Mary's self, then you have to start wondering where the favor is. Surely it's not something as self-centered as being "famous" and that we all know about her. Instead, there were the realities of life she had to face when her family suspected that she been behaving sleezily, and then when she was on the run as a refugee, and then when she was tagged as the mother of a rabble-rouser -- that's not the kind of "favor" from God that most of us covet.
Gabriel calls her highly favored. Elizabeth calls her blessed. And Simeon says that a sword will pierce her soul. Personally, I suspect I'd tell God that I didn't want that kind of favor or blessing. Who needs pain and suffering? Who wants to be the outcast? Who wants to have her soul pierced?
And yet, maybe that's where the favor is found.
Maybe she is "highly favored" because she was appointed for a very difficult life, a life full of suffering, and that she would have a soul pierced in a way that she'd never choose for herself. When we suffer, we're driven to depend upon Jesus in a way that we never would otherwise. When our soul is pierced, He binds us up.
And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly will I rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12)
Maybe the "high favor" and the "blessedness" of Mary is the great measure of grace she received, commensurate with the sufferings she endured in being the mommy of Jesus. As much as we all hate suffering, would we actually choose to trade the comfort of the Absolution for something "easy"? Jesus said of a different Mary, "She loved much, for she was forgiven much." Maybe that's also related to the anfechtung that His mom would endure. Maybe the "high favor" was that the Blessed Virgin just needed to receive more of the Gospel, more of God's love, more of His support, more of His forgiveness, to continue living out the life she was called to as the Mother of Our Lord.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Alpha and the Omega
My husband has spent the last year listening to the Bible read aloud on CD. He mostly listens while he's driving. He's near the end. So last night, on our way to church for the Feast of St John, Apostle and Evangelist, he asked if we could listen to Revelation for his first time through that CD. That made a very interesting juxtaposition of readings. The first reading at church was from Revelation 1. The epistle was 1 John 1, and the Gospel was John 21. Oodles of John last night!
After spending the last year going through Leviticus on Thursday mornings, it surprised me how much of Leviticus (the priestly garments, the tabernacle furnishings and sacrifices) showed up in Revelation that I'd never noticed before.
It's also interesting to think of what it was that John was seeing and then trying to describe with words that just weren't adequate for the task. If one cannot describe the indescribable, just what does the indescribable look like??
Listening to the whole book read in one big swoop, I also noticed how often Jesus refers to Himself as the "Alpha and Omega." I had always thought of that simply as the "first and the last," the "beginning and the end." Maybe it was because of last night's sermon, and the emphasis on the Word, the testimony, the witness, the preaching... but whatever it was, it made me realize that Jesus' being the Alpha and the Omega has to do not just with starts and finishes, but also with the alphabet. If He is "A to Z," that means all words, all sentences, all writing, all speech, all words, proceed from Him. (Of course, that doesn't contradict the reality that we can pervert words and use them against His will. But without Him, there could be no words.)
"This is the disciple who testifies of these things, and wrote these things; and we know that his testimony is true."
After spending the last year going through Leviticus on Thursday mornings, it surprised me how much of Leviticus (the priestly garments, the tabernacle furnishings and sacrifices) showed up in Revelation that I'd never noticed before.
It's also interesting to think of what it was that John was seeing and then trying to describe with words that just weren't adequate for the task. If one cannot describe the indescribable, just what does the indescribable look like??
Listening to the whole book read in one big swoop, I also noticed how often Jesus refers to Himself as the "Alpha and Omega." I had always thought of that simply as the "first and the last," the "beginning and the end." Maybe it was because of last night's sermon, and the emphasis on the Word, the testimony, the witness, the preaching... but whatever it was, it made me realize that Jesus' being the Alpha and the Omega has to do not just with starts and finishes, but also with the alphabet. If He is "A to Z," that means all words, all sentences, all writing, all speech, all words, proceed from Him. (Of course, that doesn't contradict the reality that we can pervert words and use them against His will. But without Him, there could be no words.)
"This is the disciple who testifies of these things, and wrote these things; and we know that his testimony is true."
Picking Up
Sometimes it gets to the point that the kids just can't pick up when the mother tells them to. They go to the bedroom. They make an attempt. But nothing really gets accomplished. Not quite understanding why this is, the mother then sits on the bed, giving instructions, micro-managing the kid's way through the picking-up chore.
Ah. Then the mother discovers why "picking up" has not resulted in a "picked-up room" for the last month or so.
Why is it that we must keep candy wrappers under the bed or in the sock drawer instead of putting them in the garbage can? If a person were to actually go to the trouble to PICK UP the candy wrapper and "put it away" in a sock drawer, mightn't it just have been easier to drop it in the waste can that's right there?
Why is it that receipts for the last several candy bars are being stowed away in the jewelry box? Now, stowing chocolate itself in the jewelry box... that I can understand: it's valuable stuff. But the receipts?
Why is it that a person can helpfully be making orange juice for the family, and manage to leave the lid of the frozen-concentrate jar on the counter rather than dropping it in the garbage can, when the garbage can is easier to access than was the place the lid got left?
Why is it that doll clothes were "put away" by being moved from the middle of the dresser-top to a corner of the dresser-top, when the doll-clothes bucket was right there handy?
Why is it that when you tell a child to "put away" the ponytail bands, they get shoved into the right drawer, but the child does not take the extra half a second to put them in the right spot in that drawer?
This is not rocket science.
This is not stuff that hasn't already been explained repeatedly.
There must be some magnetic frequency running through our house, pushing Stuff away from its proper storage location.
Well, back to the micro-managing....
Ah. Then the mother discovers why "picking up" has not resulted in a "picked-up room" for the last month or so.
Why is it that we must keep candy wrappers under the bed or in the sock drawer instead of putting them in the garbage can? If a person were to actually go to the trouble to PICK UP the candy wrapper and "put it away" in a sock drawer, mightn't it just have been easier to drop it in the waste can that's right there?
Why is it that receipts for the last several candy bars are being stowed away in the jewelry box? Now, stowing chocolate itself in the jewelry box... that I can understand: it's valuable stuff. But the receipts?
Why is it that a person can helpfully be making orange juice for the family, and manage to leave the lid of the frozen-concentrate jar on the counter rather than dropping it in the garbage can, when the garbage can is easier to access than was the place the lid got left?
Why is it that doll clothes were "put away" by being moved from the middle of the dresser-top to a corner of the dresser-top, when the doll-clothes bucket was right there handy?
Why is it that when you tell a child to "put away" the ponytail bands, they get shoved into the right drawer, but the child does not take the extra half a second to put them in the right spot in that drawer?
This is not rocket science.
This is not stuff that hasn't already been explained repeatedly.
There must be some magnetic frequency running through our house, pushing Stuff away from its proper storage location.
Well, back to the micro-managing....
Christmas Reflections
It's fun to have a big group of people singing Happy Birthday to a little girl in a Chinese restaurant on Christmas afternoon.
I don't recall any previous Christmas with so much Nerf weaponry and light sabres. PEACE on earth??
We bought altogether too many DVDs with TV series and movies. The comedies should help us laugh our way through the dismal days of February when the sun refuses to shine.
When I went to town today, there wasn't a single Christmas tree out on the curb for garbage pick-up. Either people are keeping their trees up past the 25th, or nobody has real trees anymore. I'm hoping that the lack of curbside trees at least somewhat indicates people may be continuing the celebration on into Christmastide.
Karaoke is harder than it looks. I thought I knew those country pop songs. But when I have to sing lead without the printed music in front of me, I flop. (At least I'm embarrassing myself in the privacy of my own home!) I wonder where I can get TLH or LSB hymns for karaoke? ;-)
I hear tell that some people get stressed out by a house full of company. Boy, I think it's a blast! It may not be quiet, but it's fun! Or maybe it's just that the people who descend upon our house are such joys to be with!
I don't recall any previous Christmas with so much Nerf weaponry and light sabres. PEACE on earth??
We bought altogether too many DVDs with TV series and movies. The comedies should help us laugh our way through the dismal days of February when the sun refuses to shine.
When I went to town today, there wasn't a single Christmas tree out on the curb for garbage pick-up. Either people are keeping their trees up past the 25th, or nobody has real trees anymore. I'm hoping that the lack of curbside trees at least somewhat indicates people may be continuing the celebration on into Christmastide.
Karaoke is harder than it looks. I thought I knew those country pop songs. But when I have to sing lead without the printed music in front of me, I flop. (At least I'm embarrassing myself in the privacy of my own home!) I wonder where I can get TLH or LSB hymns for karaoke? ;-)
I hear tell that some people get stressed out by a house full of company. Boy, I think it's a blast! It may not be quiet, but it's fun! Or maybe it's just that the people who descend upon our house are such joys to be with!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Christmas Sermon
You may wish to read Pastor Petersen's Christmas Eve sermon which expresses appreciation for the secularization of the holiday.
My "Eve" Pet Peeve
According to Genesis 1, the day begins at sundown, goes through the night, through the daylight hours, and ends at sunset. That's why the Jewish sabbath begins at Friday sunset. That's why we begin celebrating Easter at the Vigil on Saturday after sundown. That's why Christmas Eve is the evening of the 24th.
But we get all out of kilter because we know October 31st as Halloween. The evening of the 31st is the eve of All Hallows Day (also known as All Saints Day, November 1). And so the misconception has spread. We talk about "Christmas Eve Day" and "New Years Eve Day."
But the one that really struck me as funny was the sign at the Evangelical Free Church in town today. "New Years Eve Service -- 10 a.m." Ten in the morning. What part of evening do they not understand?
But we get all out of kilter because we know October 31st as Halloween. The evening of the 31st is the eve of All Hallows Day (also known as All Saints Day, November 1). And so the misconception has spread. We talk about "Christmas Eve Day" and "New Years Eve Day."
But the one that really struck me as funny was the sign at the Evangelical Free Church in town today. "New Years Eve Service -- 10 a.m." Ten in the morning. What part of evening do they not understand?
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Veiled in Flesh
I love having distribution hymns during communion.
This evening, just as the pastor was holding up the host before my eyes, preparing to place it into my mouth, the congregation was singing, "Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see." Think of that: he's holding God in his hand, about to put God into my mouth, and I can see it with my eyeballs. "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see."
And then, as we're singing "Hail the incarnate deity," the deacon is pouring the enfleshed deity from the chalice into my mouth.
How come God so often sees fit to bless me with that kind of timing at the communion rail? It is just so cool!
This evening, just as the pastor was holding up the host before my eyes, preparing to place it into my mouth, the congregation was singing, "Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see." Think of that: he's holding God in his hand, about to put God into my mouth, and I can see it with my eyeballs. "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see."
And then, as we're singing "Hail the incarnate deity," the deacon is pouring the enfleshed deity from the chalice into my mouth.
How come God so often sees fit to bless me with that kind of timing at the communion rail? It is just so cool!
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