Today's Laugh

What's the recipe for a "Honeymoon Salad"?

Lettuce alone.
No dressing.

Observations

There must be something on the Y-chromosone that drives a person to vacuum the vehicle before taking it on a trip. Those without Y-chromosones tend to think that the 1-hour trip to the friend's house isn't much different than a 15-minute trip to the grocery store. And a 5-hour trip to Grandma's isn't much different from a 1-hour trip to the friend's house. At least, not when it comes to vacuuming a van. (But, hey, if he wants to vacuum periodically, I'm thrilled! That's one less thing that I've left undone for far too long!)

The President wants to require the small-print on our credit-card bills to be in larger print. If he does, if he does require this, won't the companies need more paper for the larger print? Doesn't the use of more paper mean that more trees will suffer a needless death? Isn't it ungreen to require more paper being sent to us in our monthly bills?

When we checked into the hotel last night, I noticed a line on the charge-slip that said a complimentary copy of "USA Today" would be delivered to our room each morning. If we chose to refuse this service, our bill would be credited by 75 cents per day. I asked the clerk to clarify. "So we'll save 75 cents a day if we don't get charged for the paper that I wouldn't read anyway?" He assured me, "No, ma'am. The paper is free. You don't get charged anything for the paper." I pointed out that he would charge me 75 cents less per day for the room if I chose not to get the paper. "That's right, ma'am." I decided it wasn't worth figuring out. Just knock off the 75 cents per day and keep the paper you weren't charging me for.

Guess what? A paper showed up outside our door this morning anyway. I'm not eeeeven going to try to figure this out!

Today's Laugh

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.


Sorry, Karin!
:-)

Different Approaches to Parenting: How Do the Kids Turn Out in the End

Three babies have died in the last six weeks in Milwaukee. They were sleeping with someone instead of sleeping in a crib. The city is now trying to convince families that it's unloving to let a baby sleep in bed with its mother. (If I've got the different stories straight, one died sleeping with a grandmother, and one died sleeping with a drunk mother. I haven't heard details about this week's death.) Although there are loads of people who know co-sleeping is usually a safe and healthy practice, our society has lost so much common sense that we now have people saying that it's child neglect/abuse.

And then today we hear the story of a mother who was arrested because she stopped the car, told her bickering daughters to get out, and made them walk home. Some people are aghast that a mother could put her children in such "danger" as to make them walk home. They say it's child neglect. There are other parents who think that it's child neglect to allow the kids to squabble and sass and be unrestrained in their selfishness.

Luke 24:25

Jesus said to them, "O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe in all that the prophets have spoken!" And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, He expounded to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.

The Emmaus disciples had just told Jesus this fellow the events of the weekend, how the women couldn't find His body, how the women said they saw angels who'd said He was alive, how Peter and John went to the tomb and found exactly what the women had said.

And then Jesus says they are slow to believe in all that the prophets have spoken. I'd always thought He was saying, "Why didn't you believe the women? Why didn't you believe the angels? Why didn't you believe the evidence?" But that wasn't what He said. It was "Why didn't you believe the Old Testament?"

Here we've got an empty tomb. And angels passing along messages. And an ecstatic Mary who got to hug Jesus that morning, and then have the men think she was nutso. And Jesus doesn't say, "Why didn't you believe them?" No. It was "Why didn't you believe what Moses said? what David said? what Isaiah said?"

Apologetics

For the Life of the World arrived in today's mail. Most of it was, in one sense or another, connected to apologetics. One of the authors, writing on whether we can trust the gospels as historical accounts, says that Christians are not required "to presuppose the inerrancy and divine origin of the Gospels" but are invited to "examine their veracity simply as records of ancient history."

I like what the article said about how the Scriptures stand up as verifiable historical documents. But what bothers me is statements such as, "Christians who ignore such challenges [to the reliability of the Gospels] typically turn inward, relying on an existential experience with their own personal Jesus."

"Their own personal Jesus" could be a reference to some mushy, ethereal concept of some God-like essence thing. And such "turning inward" can be no comfort, no certainty, no surety at all. But often I hear similar statements which say derogatorily that Christians shouldn't have to rely on faith to "prove" the truth of the Gospels, but that we know the Gospels to be reliable because of historical cross-references and an objective view of the historical documents.

I think Christians know the Gospels are true because "sheep know the voice of their Shepherd." Yes, it's circular reasoning. But this isn't about reasoning. This is about blindness and light. This is about the deaf being cured to hear the voice of the Savior.

It is the Gospel which creates faith. Those who have been drawn to Jesus, the blind who now see, the deaf who now hear -- they trust in the Son of God, they recognize His voice, and they know the Scriptures to be true.

One summer, we saw both Othello and Cymbeline at APT. Although one is a comedy and one a tragedy, what struck me is that both stories were heavily predicated upon how easy it is for trust to be broken and how hard it is to restore trust ... and how "proofs" of trustworthiness do not ever convince the one who is doubting. Okay, now, these stories were about relationships between husbands and wives, and not about religious faith. But the premise holds true in both places.

What history tells us about the gospels will never convince someone to be a Christian. Christians already know the Scriptures to be true, simply because they know Jesus, and the Gospels are His words and His acts. So what is achieved by "proving" the historical veracity of the documents? Well, other than Christians being able to say, "Ooooooh! Way cool! This is so neat! Well, of course, it had to be..."?

Snow

Yesterday's forecast told us that we were supposed to get snow all day today. IT IS APRIL 21st! Surely it would just be snow in the air. Right? We wake up this morning to find the ground covered in white. The car windows had to be scraped. Let me repeat: it is April 21. At least the driveway was clean; the black asphalt retained enough heat to melt the snow. Can I please get some of that global warming that everybody's talking about. Please?

More Grammar, Please

Finished a page of grammar. "Shall we put that away now?"

Kid says no.

NO? Really?

"Can we do another page, Mom?"

"You want to do another page of grammar? Well, sure, it's okay with me, I guess...."

"Well, yeah, it feels really good when you're scratching my back while we do this." Ah, I see. He had an algebra assignment to do on his own without me. No wonder he wanted to keep the grammar lesson going!

Garden

We were reading John 20 for morning prayers today. It's really caught Pastor's interest this year that Magdalena mistook Jesus for the gardener. John starts his gospel with "In the beginning" and throughout the passion account we hear about the Garden of Gethsemane and the garden where Jesus was laid in the tomb and where He appeared to Mary. Adam's job was to be a gardener; Mary mistook Jesus for the gardener (the new Adam). In the Garden of Eden, the woman was the one talking to the serpent; in the garden by Golgotha, it was the woman who met Jesus. Womanhood is redeemed here.

Pastor also pointed out this morning that John saw the linen cloths in the tomb. If the body of Jesus had been stolen, the thieves would not have unwrapped the body and left the linen. It was a bloody, messy body. The fact that the burial cloths were left there corroborates the resurrection story and not the Pharisees' spin on the missing body.

Expressing Gratitude

I know that we aren't supposed to do things for others and expect thanks for it. We "do" to serve them, not to be appreciated.

But sometimes, when a person can't tell whether he's being a bother or being helpful, it would be nice to hear a word of gratitude. It would give him a clue as to HOW to serve his neighbor best.

Dead Soldiers

At the Easter Vigil, we hear the story of Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego. When they were tossed into the fiery furnace, who died? Not the Christians, but the soldiers.

Earlier in the evening, we heard the story of the Red Sea Crossing. There too, although the Christians were the ones in danger, it was the soldiers who ended up dead.

Mid toil and tribulation and tumult of her war,
she waits the consummation of peace forevermore,
till with the vision glorious her longing eyes are blest,
and the great Church victorious shall be the Church at rest.

Fire and Water

At the Easter Vigil, we hear the story of Noah and the story of the Three Young Men in the Fiery Furnace.

In the litany, we pray,
From all calamity by fire and water,
good Lord, deliver us.

And here, I'd always thought that was referring exclusively to house fires, lightning bolts, forest fires, flooded basements, tidal waves, and stuff like that.

27x5 = 0

I know that wasting a dollar here and a quarter there adds up.

I know that just a little snippiness between the kids, a hint of back-talk, a small dose of tattling, adds up to a toxic atmosphere at home and a very unhappy mommy.

I know that a little spill of orange juice unwiped, a couple of pieces of mail left on the counter, a sock here and a Playmobile there, adds up to clutter that, in turn, gives people permission to drop just a little more clutter around the kitchen.

What I do not know, however, is that 5 minutes here and 5 minutes there actually takes time. I believe [yes, yes, I do believe it! stupid though it be...] that gobs and gobs of "just a minute here" and "only five minutes there" should add up to NO time. HOW can I go through the day and "do nothing" but be busy all day?

I think that sorting laundry doesn't take any time. I noticed today that it took me about 12 minutes to make mayonnaise; I normally consider mayo-making to be "no time." I think that putting away the clean, dry dishes doesn't take any time. Sorting through the daily mail is another "nothing." Gassing the car doesn't count as something that was accomplished either, but Gary insists that I have to allow 10 minutes for it when I'm planning trips. I give myself credit for "doing something" when I make the bread dough, but greasing the pans, shaping the loaves, and baking it are more of those jobs that take "no time."

I think that I spend so much time on so many big things (dinner, teaching algebra, mowing the yard) that I don't realize that jobs of a half-hour or less take time. And when you have 27 five-minute jobs a day, that adds up.

But my gut still says it takes "no time."

One of my friends mentioned that for a whole day once-upon-a-time, she wrote down EVERYthing she did: every diaper she changed, every goofy conversation with a kid, every phone call she answered, brushing her teeth, EVERYthing. It made her realize how much she did that she didn't give herself credit for. I'm wondering if maybe I should spend a few days recording my minutes on a piece of paper. They say you should record all money spent when you're trying to get a grip on your budget. Maybe it would help to do the same thing with budgeting my time. I could see where I'm being wasteful, and I could acknowledge that some of these jobs really do add up to a couple of hours a day.

I'm not sure I could remember to keep writing all day, though. It's a good idea that I think I ought to try....

Wasted Day

There was nearly a yard of fabric left over from the bridesmaid dress. Maggie wanted it to become a matching shawl or a shrug to wear in case it wasn't very warm ... or if it is very warm next week she might need it to keep from shivering in air conditioning at the reception.

Things have not been looking very bright to me this week in the first place. I want to clean, but I couldn't do it without picking up all the sewing things first. So I figured that making the shrug needed to come before cleaning the living room. But I also needed to make bread today. And we're out of granola and tortillas. And there were errands to do. The project for the weekend is supposed to be re-arranging the garage, which has never been "moved in" yet but has been a dumping grounds and needs desperate help so we can find something, anything, anything at all, out there. On top of that, it was an utterly gorgeous day, and what I forlornly wished for was the opportunity to just sit outside in the sun, read a magazine, and do nothing. I need a little "doing nothing" right now. But I can't.

So I resolutely set aside the things I wanted to accomplish, and I set aside the silly wish to soak up sun-rays and blow off the day indulging myself. When I dropped off the kids at Kara's house for a homeschoolers' movie-making project, Kara and Laura invited me to spend the day laughing and chatting with them under the guise of Mary's birthday pizza-party. But I was self-controled and headed home to sew.

It didn't work. The large pattern that I got off the internet turned out to be way too small. Even with changing the sleeve seams to the slimmest little seam allowance possible, Maggie couldn't fit her hands through the wrist openings. There's no salvaging this project. Not only did I not clean, not only did I not bake bread, not only are the errands undone and the apple drawer empty and the cats nearly out of food, but if I was going to waste the entire day ...

couldn't I have at least wasted it by sitting on the deck with a book?

Bridesmaid Dress

I discovered that, when sewing, I need my reading glasses far more than I do when I'm reading.



The dress turned out a bit snugger than I thought it would, but Maggie says it doesn't feel tight at all. Whew. Did adding the facing really make that much difference?? And it turned out much shorter than I expected. Boy, I'm glad I added way more length than I thought I'd need. I was expecting a 3" hem, but in some places it's less than 1".

I'm satisfied with the dress. Gary is mega-impressed. (Or doing a good job of scamming me about how nice a dress I made.)

Medicine

For four glorious days last week, we had multiple services per day, and long services. What was offered averaged out to about 4 hours of prayer offices and/or Mass and/or Bible class per day.

This week school is on vacation; that means no prayer offices. Midweek Mass is canceled, as is midweek Bible class. No church from last Sunday until next Sunday.

I am quite aware today of how very much the services of God's house and the preaching of His word and the celebration of His Supper have become a medicine against depression.

Mowing

There was ONE neighbor who pushed a lawnmower. Everyone else owns riding lawnmowers. Yesterday that one push-mower neighbor was giving his kids rides around the yard on his new tractor. That means we're the only ones left poor enough silly enough to attempt mowing a whole acre with a push mower. Sometimes I think we're totally out of our league in living in a house instead of an apartment...

New Pins

I haven't felt much like blogging. I guess the Triduum and Easter was too intense. (And yes, for you grammarians, that is supposed to be a singular verb, no matter what the computer's grammar-check may say.) If my blog serves as my pensieve, I guess I'm not yet ready to let go of my tight grip on what's in my mind and my heart, setting it aside on paper or cyber-bits of electronic data.


I bought new straight pins. As I was putting together Trial Dress #1 and Trial Dress #2 for Maggie's bridesmaid dress, I noticed that the pins were rough. I never thought of PINS as being something that would wear out. Sure, now and then one will break or bend. But I suppose 25- or 30-yr-old straight pins may get a little rough, especially after sitting in a damp basement for 17 of those years. I didn't want to snag the lovely knit fabric with my not-too-pointed, only-slightly-scuffed/rusted pins. Wow, it sure does make a difference to have pins that sliiiiiide right through the fabric!

This dress is looking lovely so far.

Today's Laugh

I expected that my son, now age 7, would begin having doubts about Santa Claus. Sure enough, one day he informed me, "Mom, I know something about Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy."

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "What is it?"

He replied, "They're all nocturnal."

Tenebrae

Just some random thoughts and observations:


O Sacred Head (stanza 4 of LSB 450)
Thy lips have often fed me
with words of truth and love.
Thy Spirit oft hath led me
to heavenly joys above.

Compare that to what Gerhardt wrote in another hymn three years earlier (TLH 228):
Thy gift is joy, O Spirit.
Thou wouldst not have us pine.
In darkest hours Thy comfort
doth ever brightly shine.
And, oh, how oft Thy voice
hath shed its sweetness o'er me
and opened heaven before me
and bid my heart rejoice!


- - - - - - - - -



Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani.
My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?

The onlookers thought He was calling on Elijah for help. They didn't know their liturgy. They didn't know their psalter. They didn't recognize the words that they should've known. We see something similar today when we use a line from the liturgy or from the catechism, and it's got all that background & depth & meaning, and somebody else thinks we're just saying our own little made-up sentence.


- - - - - - - - -


Tis the long-expected prophet,
David's Son, yet David's Lord.
Proofs I see sufficient of it --
tis the true and faithful Word.


The long-expected prophet. That'd be the prophet greater than Moses (Deut 18). I always thought "David's Son, yet David's Lord" was an appositive for the "prophet." I don't think so today. The gospel writers make a point of showing us how Jesus is like Moses, but greater. "David's Son" is the promised Messiah, and Jesus proved that He was the Messiah when He made the lame to walk, the deaf to hear, raised the dead, and preached the Gospel to poor, miserable sinners. But He's also the one greater than Moses, the One who shepherded His people, out of bondage, into the promised land. (This is the night when You brought our fathers, the children of Israel, out of bondage in Egypt and led them through the Red Sea on dry ground...)


- - - - - - - - -

The soldiers put a robe of purple on Him. Purple. That was valuable. They put it on a beaten and bloody body. It had to have been ruined. I mean, would you want to put a very valuable piece of clothing on a person who was going to get it all bloody? (Maybe if you had to do it to make bandages or a tourniquet save somebody's life, but not just to mock somebody.) They had to be really really full of hate to waste a purple robe on making fun of this Jewish criminal.

Contrast that with Mary. There were complaints that she wasted the spikenard.