This morning my husband and I attended a workshop at the hospital. The social workers annually have a lecture on planning for the future for special-needs kids. They cover issues like guardianship, power of attorney, finances, health care, etc. We learned a lot. They threw a lot more at us than we could absorb in a day.
A couple of things stand out from this morning's workshop -- things that have nothing to do with what we were supposed to be learning. First, the sadness of some of the situations. A man sitting behind me struck up a conversation, and he mentioned that his power of health-care attorney is his wife and his doctor, because a man can't trust his wife not to bump him off with all that insurance money sitting there waiting for her. At first, I thought he had to be joking, but as he kept chattering on and on, I realized he wasn't. Another man was asking the speaker questions about trusts, and mentioned that he and his wife have trusts set up that ensure the money goes to the kids, inaccessible to the spouse should there be a divorce. Even the speakers admitted that these things need to be taken into account, because most families with special-needs kids will experience divorce. Oy! How depressing!
The second thing that impressed me was the comment about the tiny tiny amount of SSI benefits. And we're thinking that if Maggie got SSI benefits, we aren't sure how we could ensure that it all got spent. (You do have to spend it all and can't save it.) The only way she could spend that much per month would be if she had to provide shelter for herself, or if she got really frivolous with spending money. People were talking about making sure that your kids have some "quality of life," and are able to buy CDs and new clothes, take vacations, buy treats, get tickets to shows, etc. Good grief, if we can rarely give that to our kid while we're alive, how can we be expected to provide it to her even after we're dead?
In our discussions today of wills and money and insurance, we were teasing about the young bimbo Gary would marry after I assume room temperature. We realized that anybody who married Gary for his money would truly have to be one heck of a BIMBO!
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Luke 15:30 + Matt 20:12
In Didache this week, we read the parable of the prodigal son. At the end of the story, the older brother resented the party for the younger brother. He complained that he had never transgressed the father's commandment at any time, while the younger brother had wasted the inheritance on harlots. Why had the older brother "wasted" his obedience to the father, without receiving a pat on the back, a young goat to make merry, or any other reward?
The Septuagesima gospel was the parable of the workers in the vineyard. Those who worked all day resented getting the same pay as those who began work at 5:00 in the afternoon. Why should they have "wasted" their whole day of labor when they could've been goofing off most of the day like those other dudes? Shouldn't there have been some reward for denying themselves the lazy indulgence the other guys enjoyed?
When Christians respond that way, it is evidence that they think they missed something. They "did their duty" and were obedient. But if they think they missed out on the fun, if they missed out on "living it up," then that shows that they didn't really want to be obedient. Their hearts weren't in it. They were obedient out of duty, out of desire for a reward. Their hearts were not caught up in love for the Father; their hearts were not desiring the same thing He desired. (I might even venture to say that they were trying to be good.) The focus was on the obeying instead of the focus being on the job that needed to be done or on the relationship with the people around them.
"Yea, heaven itself were void and bare
If Thou, Lord, wert not near me."
If we long for Jesus, then there is no loss in "missing out" on the hedonistic pleasures of the world. Rather, we are receiving the exact thing we want -- Jesus. "Thou art the Portion I have sought."
The Septuagesima gospel was the parable of the workers in the vineyard. Those who worked all day resented getting the same pay as those who began work at 5:00 in the afternoon. Why should they have "wasted" their whole day of labor when they could've been goofing off most of the day like those other dudes? Shouldn't there have been some reward for denying themselves the lazy indulgence the other guys enjoyed?
When Christians respond that way, it is evidence that they think they missed something. They "did their duty" and were obedient. But if they think they missed out on the fun, if they missed out on "living it up," then that shows that they didn't really want to be obedient. Their hearts weren't in it. They were obedient out of duty, out of desire for a reward. Their hearts were not caught up in love for the Father; their hearts were not desiring the same thing He desired. (I might even venture to say that they were trying to be good.) The focus was on the obeying instead of the focus being on the job that needed to be done or on the relationship with the people around them.
"Yea, heaven itself were void and bare
If Thou, Lord, wert not near me."
If we long for Jesus, then there is no loss in "missing out" on the hedonistic pleasures of the world. Rather, we are receiving the exact thing we want -- Jesus. "Thou art the Portion I have sought."
Friday, February 16, 2007
Cold Sore
The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day on Monday caused me to wake up Tuesday morning with a cold sore. It's right in the middle of my bottom lip. When I looked into the mirror this morning, I looked like Queen Amidala from Stars Wars.
And now for a pun that we got off Greg's facebook site:
It takes a village to raise a child,
but it takes a Viking to raze a village.
And now for a pun that we got off Greg's facebook site:
It takes a village to raise a child,
but it takes a Viking to raze a village.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Self-Cleaning Ovens
The sweet potatoes leaked sweet juice out of their foil-wraps today while they were baking. I could've left the oven sticky and messy, like I normally do. But for some reason, it crossed my mind that I could just set the self-cleaning cycle and let it run. Now I have a clean oven. But you know what was even better?!? The temperature in the kitchen was comfortable for the first time in more than two weeks. Four and a half hours of the oven turned on as hot as it goes. Ah, that was even better than getting the mess taken care of. I have to remember this scheme to get warmth: "I was just trying to be a good housekeeper" she says innocently, with no intention whatsoever of wasting propane and hugging the stove.
Clinic Update
Maggie saw the cardiologist today for a follow-up to surgery. Apparently I had misunderstood how well her lungs were doing last time; the last appt merely showed the left lung to be no longer collapsed. Today's x-ray looked better than last time. The nurse reported to the doctor that it sounded like Maggie had a "squeaky tennis shoe" in her chest. The doctor used it as a chance to teach the nurse about the tail-end of liquid in the lungs after a collapse. He says that little pocket of liquid is "rattling around in there" now that her lungs have improved so much, whereas last time he couldn't hear the squeaky rattle because there was other gunk to listen through. I phoned up Matt and told him to be sure to bring his stethoscope when he comes over tomorrow night; he gets to listen to all sorts of cool chest-sounds that the other med school students don't have available.
Things look good. Even the funny chest noise is not a problem, the doctor said. Maggie has gained eight pounds in the last 6 weeks. Of course, she lost a lot of weight with surgery and the resultant lung problems, so altogether she's only gained four pounds over the last three months. Doctor said kids often gain a lot of weight after surgery. Oxygen and a properly functioning heart seem --for some odd reason-- to have a big effect on kids' growth and health. Go figure.
Saturday the hospital will be hosting a lecture/workshop on special-needs trust funds, estate planning, guardianships, and government benefits & programs. So we're going to go listen to what sort of possibilities are out there for the future.
Things look good. Even the funny chest noise is not a problem, the doctor said. Maggie has gained eight pounds in the last 6 weeks. Of course, she lost a lot of weight with surgery and the resultant lung problems, so altogether she's only gained four pounds over the last three months. Doctor said kids often gain a lot of weight after surgery. Oxygen and a properly functioning heart seem --for some odd reason-- to have a big effect on kids' growth and health. Go figure.
Saturday the hospital will be hosting a lecture/workshop on special-needs trust funds, estate planning, guardianships, and government benefits & programs. So we're going to go listen to what sort of possibilities are out there for the future.
Nanny McPhee
Nanny McPhee is another movie we watched recently. It's got Emma Thompson, and we like her a lot too. (Gee, it seems we're on a jag of hunting up movies that have British actresses we like!) Mom, this is one you'll like for sure! It's not unlike Mary Poppins, except the kids are much ornerier, and there's no Dick van Dyke and Julie Andrews dancing and singing. Gary watched the show while we were off at our play-day on Saturday, and he was raring to watch it again with the rest of us before it got shipped back to Blockbuster. I think this is one we may have to buy because I think it's the kind of show we could happily watch a dozen times -- lots of slapstick, some romance and family values, and then some extra silliness tossed in for good measure.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Ladies in Lavender
Last night we settled down with a movie we'd never heard of, while I worked on paying bills and getting a month's worth of budgeting caught up. We chose it because it has Maggie Smith, and we've been liking her a lot lately. Ladies in Lavender is set in the 1930s in England. There isn't much plot. I think, after watching that show, I am beginning to understand what a "character movie" is.
Basically the plot is that a young stranger is washed onto shore after a storm. Two spinsters find him and take him into their home and nurse him back to health. It turns out that he's a talented musician, and he eventually goes on his way to have the chance to play. Not much of a story, but the sweet little laughs and the emotional part of the story is about the characters and how they interact.
Mom, Gary said you might like this. Ever since you asked way-back-when about movie recommendations that aren't full of violence and sex and foul language, we notice when there's a movie that might fill the bill. And this was one. The back cover says it's a "heart-warming story." And it is. Not real fast-moving. Not real exciting. Just a sweet story.
Basically the plot is that a young stranger is washed onto shore after a storm. Two spinsters find him and take him into their home and nurse him back to health. It turns out that he's a talented musician, and he eventually goes on his way to have the chance to play. Not much of a story, but the sweet little laughs and the emotional part of the story is about the characters and how they interact.
Mom, Gary said you might like this. Ever since you asked way-back-when about movie recommendations that aren't full of violence and sex and foul language, we notice when there's a movie that might fill the bill. And this was one. The back cover says it's a "heart-warming story." And it is. Not real fast-moving. Not real exciting. Just a sweet story.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Whine warning! Whine warning! Look out below! Whine warning!
I was feeling sorry for myself last Friday because I had to miss a party with a bunch of my friends, simply because I live so far away. There was too much going on this weekend to be able to fit in a 2.5-hour roundtrip drive to the city. Saturday, however, the kids and I attended a homeschool get-together. That involved four hours of driving, and it was a very long day, but it was time spent happily with dear friends. Right now, it seems sad to be out in the country, so far from friends. The drifting snow is going to reinforce that feeling over the next few days, I'm sure.
Friday I got a phone call from a customer, and followed up with a phone call to the employee who'd offended the customer. It was not a pleasant situation with either phone call, and I thought I was going to lose the employee then and there. But I decided to chill out, check with my boss on Monday, do some more follow-up, and then make a decision. It was stressful to work it all out, and it took a significant amount of time. I am not a good team-player; I'd rather just handle things on my own than try to get other people to be responsible and own up to their duties. It seems, though, upon further investigation, that the employee may have just been having a bad day, that she is actually doing a bang-up job, and that there were just some personality conflicts between the customer and the employee. Not saying that everybody involved did what they were supposed to do, as they were supposed to do it. But after this afternoon's phone calls, I think it's all smoothed out and will work. Whew!
We woke up yesterday, on the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, to find snow. Lots of snow. So all the priorities got shoved out of the way because of the need to shove snow out of the way first. Shoveling and the cold weather had messed up my back and neck last week. The lovely D.O. straightened my spine on Thursday, alleviating much pain, and here I was headed out to the driveway to mess it up again. Ah, but it had to be done, and everybody else was gone.
Then I went over to church to get some milk for breakfast. (Our fridge isn't big enough, and a nearly empty fridge sits at church, so we store some of our groceries over there rather than getting a second fridge for the house.) Oddly enough, I started splashing as I walked into the back of church. Splashing? That's a sound that belongs at a beach or in the bathtub. Splashing when walking is not a sound that belongs in the fellowship hall of church.
After some sleuthing, I discovered the gurgling and bubbling noises were coming from a radiator in the coat-room. I didn't even know there was a radiator in there. After quite a few phone calls, one of the trustees began helping as best he could while still at work. One of the men in the congregation showed up to turn off the furnace at church and shut off the water, both of which were necessary to halt the small waterfall that was spreading its puddle throughout three rooms of the building. I ended up trying to take care of the mess. After an hour and a half of sopping up 10 gallons off the hard-floor, the puddles on tile were small enough to evaporate, and the puddles on carpet had been patted partially dry. I was ready to go home and get on with the day that I had planned to start 3 hours earlier.
I fetched the one kid home from his job. He volunteered to tackle the dishes and the kitchen counters. I headed to the laundry room with a huge load of sopping wet towels, just dying to head off to a warm shower as soon as the washer filled. Kitchen-Boy and I discovered the same thing at the same time. There was no water. When the helpful guy from church turned off the water so as to stop the waterfall in the radiator, he also shut off water to the parsonage. Oy! I was so grimy and so very cold, and I really wanted a shower. And I needed those towels washed and dried so that I could take them back to church and use them to clean up more of the mess.
So I went over to church and tried to figure out the maze of water-pipes coming and going through water softeners, rust filters, water heaters, furnace, church pipes versus parsonage pipes, outgoing pipes versus incoming pipes, and which valves did what. That took a lot of staring and thinking and deciphering. Finally figured out which valve I had been told to turn, shut it off, and turned back on the main water valve. Sure enough, we got water to the parsonage. Also sure enough, the off-valve was the wrong one, and the waterfall resumed pouring water onto the tile floor and carpet I'd just finished drying off. So off went the main valve again, only to leave the waterfall Depleted-But-Still-Running for another 15 minutes. Yuck -- more puddles!
Husband came home and discovered that there is no way to turn off water to church without also turning off water to the parsonage. He did, however, try shutting off water to the church furnace, and that worked. We could resume use of toilets, showers, sinks, and washers at home. Hooray! Matt said it sounds like I was on my way to hypothermia. Wet socks, wet shoes, wet jeans, in a 45-50 degree building for over an hour, not noticing the cold, and then (once I was back into a warm living room) really really noticing how chilled I was. After 20 minutes in a hot bath, trying to get rid of the chill, my face was still cold. But eventually that hot water sure did knock the cold out of me.
The repairmen showed up later. Apparently the pipes froze in the frigid weather last weekend. That explains the cold section of church and the below-freezing temps in the pastor's study. These points were on the same pipe-line, beyond the location of the frozen pipes. Funny, the church had been told that this radiator had long ago been disconnected from the furnace system and supposedly had no water running through the pipes. Hmmm, erroneous information, it seems. Well, the repairmen will be coming back with bypass valves so as to get heat back to the study again. While they're here, they're going to install a valve so that church's water can be turned off without shutting us down at home. That would be the silver lining of the dark cloud!
Still recuperating from the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad yesterday, I bailed on dinner today as well as the weekly errands that were supposed to have been accomplished yesterday. Instead, we went to Pizza Hut for Maggie's Book-It treat and ate at the buffet. Other people were smart enough not to head out into the blizzard, so we fools had the restaurant to ourselves. Then we stopped at Aldi and picked up a few groceries to manage to finagle our way through to my next trip to the big city. My husband even bought me Valentine roses. And you know what was best? He asked me first if I'd be offended by his purchasing flowers. At Aldi prices, I was okay with it! So there are flowers brightening my table. Things are looking up.
Spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get a little cleaning and schoolwork accomplished in spite of messing my neck up again. Rachel says my headache sounds like a migraine. It's bad, but I thought a migraine would have to be worse than this. Luckily, the Deacon called and set me to the task of hunting through Dr Korby's file cabinets for something the sem requested. That gives me an excuse to make a doctor's appt: the wonderful man who straightens my back is 4 blocks from church. So tomorrow afternoon the doctor can make the owies go away again. And then I can play with Dr Korby's file cabinets and revel in reading and skimming his writings until I find the necessary paperwork. Again, things are looking up.
I was feeling sorry for myself last Friday because I had to miss a party with a bunch of my friends, simply because I live so far away. There was too much going on this weekend to be able to fit in a 2.5-hour roundtrip drive to the city. Saturday, however, the kids and I attended a homeschool get-together. That involved four hours of driving, and it was a very long day, but it was time spent happily with dear friends. Right now, it seems sad to be out in the country, so far from friends. The drifting snow is going to reinforce that feeling over the next few days, I'm sure.
Friday I got a phone call from a customer, and followed up with a phone call to the employee who'd offended the customer. It was not a pleasant situation with either phone call, and I thought I was going to lose the employee then and there. But I decided to chill out, check with my boss on Monday, do some more follow-up, and then make a decision. It was stressful to work it all out, and it took a significant amount of time. I am not a good team-player; I'd rather just handle things on my own than try to get other people to be responsible and own up to their duties. It seems, though, upon further investigation, that the employee may have just been having a bad day, that she is actually doing a bang-up job, and that there were just some personality conflicts between the customer and the employee. Not saying that everybody involved did what they were supposed to do, as they were supposed to do it. But after this afternoon's phone calls, I think it's all smoothed out and will work. Whew!
We woke up yesterday, on the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, to find snow. Lots of snow. So all the priorities got shoved out of the way because of the need to shove snow out of the way first. Shoveling and the cold weather had messed up my back and neck last week. The lovely D.O. straightened my spine on Thursday, alleviating much pain, and here I was headed out to the driveway to mess it up again. Ah, but it had to be done, and everybody else was gone.
Then I went over to church to get some milk for breakfast. (Our fridge isn't big enough, and a nearly empty fridge sits at church, so we store some of our groceries over there rather than getting a second fridge for the house.) Oddly enough, I started splashing as I walked into the back of church. Splashing? That's a sound that belongs at a beach or in the bathtub. Splashing when walking is not a sound that belongs in the fellowship hall of church.
After some sleuthing, I discovered the gurgling and bubbling noises were coming from a radiator in the coat-room. I didn't even know there was a radiator in there. After quite a few phone calls, one of the trustees began helping as best he could while still at work. One of the men in the congregation showed up to turn off the furnace at church and shut off the water, both of which were necessary to halt the small waterfall that was spreading its puddle throughout three rooms of the building. I ended up trying to take care of the mess. After an hour and a half of sopping up 10 gallons off the hard-floor, the puddles on tile were small enough to evaporate, and the puddles on carpet had been patted partially dry. I was ready to go home and get on with the day that I had planned to start 3 hours earlier.
I fetched the one kid home from his job. He volunteered to tackle the dishes and the kitchen counters. I headed to the laundry room with a huge load of sopping wet towels, just dying to head off to a warm shower as soon as the washer filled. Kitchen-Boy and I discovered the same thing at the same time. There was no water. When the helpful guy from church turned off the water so as to stop the waterfall in the radiator, he also shut off water to the parsonage. Oy! I was so grimy and so very cold, and I really wanted a shower. And I needed those towels washed and dried so that I could take them back to church and use them to clean up more of the mess.
So I went over to church and tried to figure out the maze of water-pipes coming and going through water softeners, rust filters, water heaters, furnace, church pipes versus parsonage pipes, outgoing pipes versus incoming pipes, and which valves did what. That took a lot of staring and thinking and deciphering. Finally figured out which valve I had been told to turn, shut it off, and turned back on the main water valve. Sure enough, we got water to the parsonage. Also sure enough, the off-valve was the wrong one, and the waterfall resumed pouring water onto the tile floor and carpet I'd just finished drying off. So off went the main valve again, only to leave the waterfall Depleted-But-Still-Running for another 15 minutes. Yuck -- more puddles!
Husband came home and discovered that there is no way to turn off water to church without also turning off water to the parsonage. He did, however, try shutting off water to the church furnace, and that worked. We could resume use of toilets, showers, sinks, and washers at home. Hooray! Matt said it sounds like I was on my way to hypothermia. Wet socks, wet shoes, wet jeans, in a 45-50 degree building for over an hour, not noticing the cold, and then (once I was back into a warm living room) really really noticing how chilled I was. After 20 minutes in a hot bath, trying to get rid of the chill, my face was still cold. But eventually that hot water sure did knock the cold out of me.
The repairmen showed up later. Apparently the pipes froze in the frigid weather last weekend. That explains the cold section of church and the below-freezing temps in the pastor's study. These points were on the same pipe-line, beyond the location of the frozen pipes. Funny, the church had been told that this radiator had long ago been disconnected from the furnace system and supposedly had no water running through the pipes. Hmmm, erroneous information, it seems. Well, the repairmen will be coming back with bypass valves so as to get heat back to the study again. While they're here, they're going to install a valve so that church's water can be turned off without shutting us down at home. That would be the silver lining of the dark cloud!
Still recuperating from the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad yesterday, I bailed on dinner today as well as the weekly errands that were supposed to have been accomplished yesterday. Instead, we went to Pizza Hut for Maggie's Book-It treat and ate at the buffet. Other people were smart enough not to head out into the blizzard, so we fools had the restaurant to ourselves. Then we stopped at Aldi and picked up a few groceries to manage to finagle our way through to my next trip to the big city. My husband even bought me Valentine roses. And you know what was best? He asked me first if I'd be offended by his purchasing flowers. At Aldi prices, I was okay with it! So there are flowers brightening my table. Things are looking up.
Spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get a little cleaning and schoolwork accomplished in spite of messing my neck up again. Rachel says my headache sounds like a migraine. It's bad, but I thought a migraine would have to be worse than this. Luckily, the Deacon called and set me to the task of hunting through Dr Korby's file cabinets for something the sem requested. That gives me an excuse to make a doctor's appt: the wonderful man who straightens my back is 4 blocks from church. So tomorrow afternoon the doctor can make the owies go away again. And then I can play with Dr Korby's file cabinets and revel in reading and skimming his writings until I find the necessary paperwork. Again, things are looking up.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Trying to Be Good
When I wrote something last month about the Sacraments and the preaching being the thing that "makes us good," there were some objections. I was told that I do indeed need to try to be good.
It has crossed my mind that if we have to trrry to be good, that in itself seems to be evidence that we're not good. After all, when generosity or patience or kindness come easily and naturally, without our necessarily even being aware of it, that is goodness worked by the Holy Spirit as He sanctifies us. But if I don't want to be generous, am not being patient, and struggle to be kind, and if I have to try to make myself behave properly, the very need to try reveals my sinfulness.
Does this mean I should let bad behavior reign? No. Does my neighbor benefit from a particular deed when I try to be good and serve him, even though I'm having to make myself do it instead of doing it willingly and effortlessly? Of course he benefits. But I cannot believe that I am doing a "good work" before God if I have to muster up the gumption to try to do it. Trying means our eyes are on ourselves. In Matthew 25, the righteous ask their Lord, "When did we do these things?" They were unaware of their good works because, like the apostles on the Mount of Transfiguration, "they saw Jesus only."
It has crossed my mind that if we have to trrry to be good, that in itself seems to be evidence that we're not good. After all, when generosity or patience or kindness come easily and naturally, without our necessarily even being aware of it, that is goodness worked by the Holy Spirit as He sanctifies us. But if I don't want to be generous, am not being patient, and struggle to be kind, and if I have to try to make myself behave properly, the very need to try reveals my sinfulness.
Does this mean I should let bad behavior reign? No. Does my neighbor benefit from a particular deed when I try to be good and serve him, even though I'm having to make myself do it instead of doing it willingly and effortlessly? Of course he benefits. But I cannot believe that I am doing a "good work" before God if I have to muster up the gumption to try to do it. Trying means our eyes are on ourselves. In Matthew 25, the righteous ask their Lord, "When did we do these things?" They were unaware of their good works because, like the apostles on the Mount of Transfiguration, "they saw Jesus only."
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Note from the Doctor
My 12-yr-old doesn't usually watch Blues Clues anymore. And she's pretty much over Teletubbies. We were still watching Mr Rogers last year. She still likes to play dolls with her friends. She's still not quite up for multiplication, but is doing much better with addition and subtraction. She's old enough to understand that it's important to be quiet in the early morning so as not to wake up sleeping parents and siblings. However, she's still too young to realize that persistently whispering things to you and patting you gently does not constitute "being quiet" so as not to disturb the sleeper.
We got a mass-mailing from the doctor's office the other day. This is the little kid we are encouraged to take in to the doctor to obtain a vaccination which will hopefully prevent the virus (spread through promiscuous sexual activity) that could cause lesions which could cause pre-cancerous cells would could lead to cervical cancer. If that doesn't sound iffy enough even for promiscuous young women, my head is still reeling over the possibility that I would want that for a child who's still satisfied with dollies and Mr Rogers' puppets.
We dress 7-yr-olds like they're 23-yr-old street-walkers. And then they tell us to bring our 9- and 10-yr-olds in for vaccines to prevent VD. Maybe there's a better solution.
We got a mass-mailing from the doctor's office the other day. This is the little kid we are encouraged to take in to the doctor to obtain a vaccination which will hopefully prevent the virus (spread through promiscuous sexual activity) that could cause lesions which could cause pre-cancerous cells would could lead to cervical cancer. If that doesn't sound iffy enough even for promiscuous young women, my head is still reeling over the possibility that I would want that for a child who's still satisfied with dollies and Mr Rogers' puppets.
We dress 7-yr-olds like they're 23-yr-old street-walkers. And then they tell us to bring our 9- and 10-yr-olds in for vaccines to prevent VD. Maybe there's a better solution.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Being Fed
A year ago, little Frederick was here visiting us for a few days. He was about 14 months old at the time. He graciously brought along his mommy and his daddy and most of his siblings. Fredo was still nursing a bit now and then. When he sat at the table to eat with the big people, he needed help with his spoon. He could feed himself, but not enough to really fill his belly to a comfortable level.
Also a year ago this week, my friend Nathan proposed to my daughter Katie who (wisely) accepted. As we discussed wedding plans, the subject came up of the wedding cake, and that the bride and groom feed each other bites of the cake.
These two experiences were fresh in my mind when I was at Mass the following Wednesday evening. That night, I was captivated by the picture of what was going on at the altar rail. It's not like anything happened that hadn't happened before. It's not like anything new was going on. But I just noticed it in a new way. The pastor was feeding people. The pastor put the host into the mouth of the communicants. The pastor put the chalice to their lips and ever-so-carefully tipped it. He fed us.
It really must look pretty goofy to outsiders. A bunch of people, kneeling together, mouths open for someone else to feed them. They're not feeding themselves. They weren't taking the host into their own hands and feeding themselves (although that happens in some congregations). They weren't taking the cup into their own hands and drinking it themselves (although that too happens in some congregations). We were all there, waiting, being fed. I imagined helpless little baby robins in their nest, mouths open, waiting for mom and dad to return and place the nourishment into their little beaks, since they can't do it for themselves.
Y'know, people are rarely fed by someone else. We feed ourselves. That's the way it is! Who gets fed? Babies are fed; they cannot feed themselves. Those who are too sick or disabled (whether by age or disease or accident) are fed by a care-taker instead of feeding themselves. Normally, there's only one other situation where we don't feed ourselves. Lovers will sometimes feed each other. But that kind of behavior is generally recognized as intimate enough that it's not usually flaunted in front of other people (except at the wedding reception). Feeding your sweetie might happen at a private picnic. If it's done in public, though, there's no surprise if other people nearby are rolling their eyes, thinking that the star-struck lovey-dovey stuff will wear off sooner or later.
I suppose there have been some rare occasions where I was out to dinner, and maybe a girlfriend wanted to try a bite of what I'd gotten, and I wanted to try a bite of her dinner or dessert. Even then, though, you usually pass the fork to the other person. If it's soup, you might hold the spoon for the other person. But things like that are not the norm. We're tough; we're too busy and too capable to condescend to be fed by someone else. When we feed another person or are fed by another person, it's almost always because of one person being utterly dependent on the other, or because of the depth of intimacy in the love-relationship.
Maybe at the altar rail, I'm the decrepit one, too helpless to feed myself. Maybe at the altar rail, I'm the dearly beloved of my Jesus, and am fed by Him because of His great love for me. It doesn't really matter which it is -- or that it might be both. Looking at the pastor that night, with the paten of hosts and with the chalice, feeding all those people, just doing the same ol' thing he does every Sunday and every Wednesday, well, it sure makes a person realize who's the Giver and who's the receiver.
Also a year ago this week, my friend Nathan proposed to my daughter Katie who (wisely) accepted. As we discussed wedding plans, the subject came up of the wedding cake, and that the bride and groom feed each other bites of the cake.
These two experiences were fresh in my mind when I was at Mass the following Wednesday evening. That night, I was captivated by the picture of what was going on at the altar rail. It's not like anything happened that hadn't happened before. It's not like anything new was going on. But I just noticed it in a new way. The pastor was feeding people. The pastor put the host into the mouth of the communicants. The pastor put the chalice to their lips and ever-so-carefully tipped it. He fed us.
It really must look pretty goofy to outsiders. A bunch of people, kneeling together, mouths open for someone else to feed them. They're not feeding themselves. They weren't taking the host into their own hands and feeding themselves (although that happens in some congregations). They weren't taking the cup into their own hands and drinking it themselves (although that too happens in some congregations). We were all there, waiting, being fed. I imagined helpless little baby robins in their nest, mouths open, waiting for mom and dad to return and place the nourishment into their little beaks, since they can't do it for themselves.
Y'know, people are rarely fed by someone else. We feed ourselves. That's the way it is! Who gets fed? Babies are fed; they cannot feed themselves. Those who are too sick or disabled (whether by age or disease or accident) are fed by a care-taker instead of feeding themselves. Normally, there's only one other situation where we don't feed ourselves. Lovers will sometimes feed each other. But that kind of behavior is generally recognized as intimate enough that it's not usually flaunted in front of other people (except at the wedding reception). Feeding your sweetie might happen at a private picnic. If it's done in public, though, there's no surprise if other people nearby are rolling their eyes, thinking that the star-struck lovey-dovey stuff will wear off sooner or later.
I suppose there have been some rare occasions where I was out to dinner, and maybe a girlfriend wanted to try a bite of what I'd gotten, and I wanted to try a bite of her dinner or dessert. Even then, though, you usually pass the fork to the other person. If it's soup, you might hold the spoon for the other person. But things like that are not the norm. We're tough; we're too busy and too capable to condescend to be fed by someone else. When we feed another person or are fed by another person, it's almost always because of one person being utterly dependent on the other, or because of the depth of intimacy in the love-relationship.
Maybe at the altar rail, I'm the decrepit one, too helpless to feed myself. Maybe at the altar rail, I'm the dearly beloved of my Jesus, and am fed by Him because of His great love for me. It doesn't really matter which it is -- or that it might be both. Looking at the pastor that night, with the paten of hosts and with the chalice, feeding all those people, just doing the same ol' thing he does every Sunday and every Wednesday, well, it sure makes a person realize who's the Giver and who's the receiver.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Hoover Savvy
This week I picked up my vacuum cleaner from the repair shop again. This is the sixth time it's been repaired under warranty since I bought it 10 months ago. When I first bought it, I read the owners manual. It said that replacing belts was unnecessary: the belts are long-lasting (2-3 years) and must be replaced only by authorized repairmen. They're not cheap either (if you're paying for them). Well, this is the second new belt in ten months. Two belts in ten months? Or a new belt once every few years? Hmmm, I think there's a clash on how to reckon time here. You think it's my fault because I was taught the New Math back in my elementary school days?
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Sun Dogs
I had one of those "homeschool mommy" attacks on Sunday morning, where you get all aflutter over a teachable moment and just gotta find somebody to bubble at! I was out jogging (yes, I know it was cold!) and saw the most awesome sun dogs. I have tried to show them to my youngest on previous occasions, but I've never been convinced that she's actually seen them. Between her poor vision and her lack of understanding, it seems that she's always just "agreed" that "yeah, Mom, that's pretty neat." But Sunday morning, those sundogs were so huge, and there were no clouds smudging up the sky -- there was no way to miss those sun dogs! The dogs were massive and spreading their rainbows out. The right one had rays pouring off it to span an arc of about 50-60 degrees, and the left one covered about 30 degrees of an arc around the sun.
These are rare enough that I went in and interrupted Sunday school to show the kids. I feel a little guilty over that: sun dogs shouldn't be trumping the study of God's word. But gosh, how often do kids (especially kids who live in town and thus have an obstructed view of the sky) get to see uncommon sights in the heavens?
The parhelions were so glorious the other day that I couldn't help but remember the Shakespearean lines in Henry VI, recounting the story of the Battle of Mortimer's Cross which occurred in 1461 at Herefordshire, during the War of the Roses. It's easy to see why the Yorkists might consider such a sight to be a "sign from God."
These are rare enough that I went in and interrupted Sunday school to show the kids. I feel a little guilty over that: sun dogs shouldn't be trumping the study of God's word. But gosh, how often do kids (especially kids who live in town and thus have an obstructed view of the sky) get to see uncommon sights in the heavens?
The parhelions were so glorious the other day that I couldn't help but remember the Shakespearean lines in Henry VI, recounting the story of the Battle of Mortimer's Cross which occurred in 1461 at Herefordshire, during the War of the Roses. It's easy to see why the Yorkists might consider such a sight to be a "sign from God."
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
It's So Cold That ...
that the cat has been using the litter box instead of going outdoors.
And worse yet, so cold that the cat is actually playing with a ball of twine. Her lack of hunting possibilities is driving her nuts -- so insane that this aloof creature is actually willing to interact with us instead of with the mousies and gophers, actually willing to treat a piece of string as prey.
That's cold! The kids said that they'd never seen a real cat play with a real ball of yarn: that's just something you see in pictures or read about in books. And here she is -- desperate enough to chase something --ANYTHING-- that she'll be a stereotypical cat.
And worse yet, so cold that the cat is actually playing with a ball of twine. Her lack of hunting possibilities is driving her nuts -- so insane that this aloof creature is actually willing to interact with us instead of with the mousies and gophers, actually willing to treat a piece of string as prey.
That's cold! The kids said that they'd never seen a real cat play with a real ball of yarn: that's just something you see in pictures or read about in books. And here she is -- desperate enough to chase something --ANYTHING-- that she'll be a stereotypical cat.
Morning
Well, this will teach me to get up early and get going on the week's errands! I figured I'd leave bright and early, let the kids get up on their own, prepare and eat their breakfasts, do their chores, and get started on the schoolwork they can do without me. Then we'd have the whole afternoon for schoolwork that we have to do together. THREE of my stops on the errand-list were closed when I arrived, so that I had to go back later. So much for bright and early! LOL!
Monday, February 05, 2007
Real ID
The NY Times ran an article yesterday on the uniform national ID card. The thing I find most astonishing about this issue is the fight between the states and the feds. Both conservatives and liberals are backing states-rights. Both conservatives and liberals are, conversely, backing the federal push to standardize drivers licenses.
A Missouri Republican is working with two dozen other states to oppose the federal law. He said, "This is a frontal assault on our freedoms. One state standing alone is not enough. But we are already gaining strong momentum here." A Wisconsin Republican and top officials at the Department of Homeland Security said they were disturbed by the growing signs of a revolt. The Wisconsin Congressman said, "Certainly, it is a threat."
The government is fighting the government.
As we've been studying civics and political science recently, one of the main messages of the Uncle Eric books has been to watch the quest for power. It's not ultimately about what's "conservative" or "liberal," about what's Republican or Democrat, about what will be done with the political power once a person or group has gained it, but simply about the quest to obtain power and the desire to use it. This can be readily seen as both the liberals and the conservatives are in-fighting over this Real ID Act.
A Missouri Republican is working with two dozen other states to oppose the federal law. He said, "This is a frontal assault on our freedoms. One state standing alone is not enough. But we are already gaining strong momentum here." A Wisconsin Republican and top officials at the Department of Homeland Security said they were disturbed by the growing signs of a revolt. The Wisconsin Congressman said, "Certainly, it is a threat."
The government is fighting the government.
As we've been studying civics and political science recently, one of the main messages of the Uncle Eric books has been to watch the quest for power. It's not ultimately about what's "conservative" or "liberal," about what's Republican or Democrat, about what will be done with the political power once a person or group has gained it, but simply about the quest to obtain power and the desire to use it. This can be readily seen as both the liberals and the conservatives are in-fighting over this Real ID Act.
Still Cold
My husband is doing his work in the living room today. He has been complaining about the cold over at church. Okay, I can understand that. I don't like sitting in the cold constantly.
Today we are finally sending out our annual "Christmas" letter. (Oh, aren't we timely!!) I went over to church to use the copier, and it seemed mighty cold. I went to check the thermometer. The thermostat is set to keep the building in the low 50s midweek. The nave and the fellowship hall are about 51-54. But the pastor's study is 28 degrees. You know what? That's not exactly warm! No wonder Gary is sitting in the living room with his theology books and his laptop!
Today we are finally sending out our annual "Christmas" letter. (Oh, aren't we timely!!) I went over to church to use the copier, and it seemed mighty cold. I went to check the thermometer. The thermostat is set to keep the building in the low 50s midweek. The nave and the fellowship hall are about 51-54. But the pastor's study is 28 degrees. You know what? That's not exactly warm! No wonder Gary is sitting in the living room with his theology books and his laptop!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Nursing Mother Threatened with Lawsuit
My friend Polly linked to a humorous and informative blog on nursing. (No, Heidi, not your kind of nursing. The "feeding babies" kind of nursing.) It's called the Lactivist. The eye-popping subject of the week was that the pork producers have gone after this mommy and her little blog. She used the phrase "The Other White Milk" on a t-shirt, and the trademark lawyers went ballistic. Good grief!
The Lactivist looks like a good site, even before the recent uproar. There are some cute slogans at her store. I think my favorite is "Breasts: Not Just For Selling Cars Anymore."
The Lactivist looks like a good site, even before the recent uproar. There are some cute slogans at her store. I think my favorite is "Breasts: Not Just For Selling Cars Anymore."
An Analogy
What happens when the government needs to collect more taxes? There are two economic opinions on how to achieve this.
The obvious answer is to raise taxes. After all, if you need to collect more taxes, then raise everybody's rates so that everybody will pay a little more. Then the government will reap a little more.
The bizarre answer is to lower taxes. Some people scoff at this. Obviously, they say, lowering taxes will put fewer coins into the government money-bags. Weird thing is, though, lowering taxes is the plan that actually works. Lower taxes and less government regulation stimulates the economy. As the economy grows healthier, businesses and individuals earn more. Even though people are paying a smaller percentage in taxes, they end up paying more in actual dollars. So the government has more to spend, while the tax payers also have more disposable income.
Conservatives have seen this happen in our own country, as well as in other countries, as well as throughout history. Some people believe in making a bee-line for more taxes. Other people believe that doing what's beneficial to the economy will circuitously result in more tax revenue for the government. Those who insist that they cannot let go of their "give us more money" mantra are the ones who actually diminish the money coming in to government coffers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Some people believe that the way to get Christians to do more good works is to tell them directly to do more good works, which works they should do, and how they should do them. This seems like an obvious way to get people to do more good works.
Other people think the preaching should be directed instead toward the health of the Christian and strengthening his faith. There will be pruning and fertilizing (the call to repentance). There will be watering and sunshine (the forgiveness of sins in the preaching and sacraments). Then, bizarrely and circuitously and weirdly, the Christian (whose faith is vivified and whose sinful nature is crushed) will abundantly bear the fruit of good works, even when he's not intentionally trying to do so.
The obvious answer is to raise taxes. After all, if you need to collect more taxes, then raise everybody's rates so that everybody will pay a little more. Then the government will reap a little more.
The bizarre answer is to lower taxes. Some people scoff at this. Obviously, they say, lowering taxes will put fewer coins into the government money-bags. Weird thing is, though, lowering taxes is the plan that actually works. Lower taxes and less government regulation stimulates the economy. As the economy grows healthier, businesses and individuals earn more. Even though people are paying a smaller percentage in taxes, they end up paying more in actual dollars. So the government has more to spend, while the tax payers also have more disposable income.
Conservatives have seen this happen in our own country, as well as in other countries, as well as throughout history. Some people believe in making a bee-line for more taxes. Other people believe that doing what's beneficial to the economy will circuitously result in more tax revenue for the government. Those who insist that they cannot let go of their "give us more money" mantra are the ones who actually diminish the money coming in to government coffers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Some people believe that the way to get Christians to do more good works is to tell them directly to do more good works, which works they should do, and how they should do them. This seems like an obvious way to get people to do more good works.
Other people think the preaching should be directed instead toward the health of the Christian and strengthening his faith. There will be pruning and fertilizing (the call to repentance). There will be watering and sunshine (the forgiveness of sins in the preaching and sacraments). Then, bizarrely and circuitously and weirdly, the Christian (whose faith is vivified and whose sinful nature is crushed) will abundantly bear the fruit of good works, even when he's not intentionally trying to do so.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Cold
I went to bed last night after the furnace had turned off, and it was 58 in the bedroom. A little cooler than normal, but not too bad. But when I got up in the morning, several hours after the furnace had kicked on, it was still only 61 on the main floor, and 63 in the basement. Usually it's 61-63 in the basement, and 67-68 upstairs. The wind was roaring! I mean that literally -- the sound of the wind around the house was enough to wake sleeping people. By mid-morning, when the wind had died down to simply "very windy," the furnace was finally able to make some headway against the cold.
I managed to force myself out in the sunshine to jog in spite of the cold. Enough layers of appropriate clothing can do wonders against the weather. I was thinking how wonderful ski masks are! It reminded me, though, of a news story we read in the kids' current events paper yesterday. (Okay, okay, so it's old news. We got behind on reading our school newspapers during surgery recuperation.) The Netherlands has outlawed the wearing of burqas and other headgear that conceals the face.
Last night at the guys' Belegarth practice, there was another group of medieval fighters using the same arena for practice. Instead of fighting with foam weaponry, these guys were fighting with wood swords. (Rumor has it that sometimes they use metal.) Because of their more dangerous weapons, they had fancier and stronger armor. I mean, these dudes were wearing cool regalia, with knight's helmets and everything. But these guys couldn't go out in public in Holland.
So if people can't wear ski-masks in the Netherlands anymore, what do they do when it gets cold? Maybe it doesn't get as wickedly cold there as it does here. But still, mightn't they need something to cover the face now and then to prevent frostbite? Or if not frostbite, simply something to make them more comfortable on chilly days? Makes me shiver just to think about being outside today for more than 5 minutes without a ski mask!
I'm regretting the lack of snow fencing again today. The county snow plows have been out on the roads repeatedly. The van was parked near the house, and I took it to town for less than an hour. When I came home, the driveway in front of the garage was already drifted about 8' wide and 2-3' deep. I shoveled it partway out, and parked the van back in that spot, to act as surrogate snow-fence. Hopefully that will help keep the drifts in front of the house instead of blocking the garage.
It's supposed to be just as cold tomorrow, but with an improvement in windiness level, we should go from windchills of -30 up to about -15. That's significant. When we were in town this afternoon, you could tell how much warmer it was there than in the country, where the wind just picks up awesome amounts of speed and then scrubs your face with sand-sized ice particles. Looking forward to highs of 10 and 15 later next week.
I managed to force myself out in the sunshine to jog in spite of the cold. Enough layers of appropriate clothing can do wonders against the weather. I was thinking how wonderful ski masks are! It reminded me, though, of a news story we read in the kids' current events paper yesterday. (Okay, okay, so it's old news. We got behind on reading our school newspapers during surgery recuperation.) The Netherlands has outlawed the wearing of burqas and other headgear that conceals the face.
Last night at the guys' Belegarth practice, there was another group of medieval fighters using the same arena for practice. Instead of fighting with foam weaponry, these guys were fighting with wood swords. (Rumor has it that sometimes they use metal.) Because of their more dangerous weapons, they had fancier and stronger armor. I mean, these dudes were wearing cool regalia, with knight's helmets and everything. But these guys couldn't go out in public in Holland.
So if people can't wear ski-masks in the Netherlands anymore, what do they do when it gets cold? Maybe it doesn't get as wickedly cold there as it does here. But still, mightn't they need something to cover the face now and then to prevent frostbite? Or if not frostbite, simply something to make them more comfortable on chilly days? Makes me shiver just to think about being outside today for more than 5 minutes without a ski mask!
I'm regretting the lack of snow fencing again today. The county snow plows have been out on the roads repeatedly. The van was parked near the house, and I took it to town for less than an hour. When I came home, the driveway in front of the garage was already drifted about 8' wide and 2-3' deep. I shoveled it partway out, and parked the van back in that spot, to act as surrogate snow-fence. Hopefully that will help keep the drifts in front of the house instead of blocking the garage.
It's supposed to be just as cold tomorrow, but with an improvement in windiness level, we should go from windchills of -30 up to about -15. That's significant. When we were in town this afternoon, you could tell how much warmer it was there than in the country, where the wind just picks up awesome amounts of speed and then scrubs your face with sand-sized ice particles. Looking forward to highs of 10 and 15 later next week.
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