Rocky

We watched the original Rocky movie tonight. It's one of those movies that's on the top-100 list as all-time great movies. We've been meaning to get to it, thinking that it's one of those pop-culture things the kids should have a clue about (like Gilligan and the Skipper, the Brady Bunch, and It's a Wonderful Life).

Now I'm wondering WHY this is considered one of the all-time great movies. There are a lot of sports-oriented "root for the underdog" movies that are much better. There's a significant amount of bad language, enough that it wasn't just "some." I have only two guesses as to its elite ranking. First, it may have been something to do with ground-breaking effects (like 2001: A Space Odyssey). Second, it may have been because of the liberal movie-snobs who like stories that show the seedier side of life. We would've been better off watching Anne of Green Gables again, or a Sandra Bullock movie or old Beaver reruns.

Revenge

Today some obnoxious little 10-yr-old girls decided to pick on Andrew during his paper route. "Hey, paper boy, give us a paper." "Hey, paper boy, what are you doing out today?" "Hey, paper boy, ..." and other stinky little-kid type of mouthiness designed to make the other kid feel like he's 3" tall.

Andrew chose not to respond in kind. He smiled and waved cheerily at them. The response from the brats was "Hey, paper boy, aren't you gonna talk to us?" and "Hey, paper boy, is that all you're gonna do?" He kept a nice smile on his face and just kept walking along his route, delivering the papers, showing no sign whatsoever of being perturbed with their attempts to belittle him.

And, boy oh boy, did that ever annoy those little girls!

When I picked him up, he related the tale with relish. He said their words did make him feel bad. No logical reason for it, but that was their intent, and it wasn't wholly ineffective. But he didn't want to retaliate and be ugly and stoop to their level of meanness. Nevertheless, it gave him much pleasure to see how irritated the girls were with his response. If he'd snapped at them or teased back, they would've been pleased. Nothing could've bugged them more than his smile and friendly wave.

I told him how proud I was of him. He's feeling very grown up these days. He needs to shave now and then. And he turned in his 1040 form with a check for his Social Security taxes. And he responded in a very mature way to some little twerps. What a grown-up!

Snowstorm

The cars are driving past the house are going about 30 mph instead of 65. The snow started about 7:00 here tonight, and is already piling up and drifting. I hope Philip makes it home from work safely.

We had plans with friends for tomorrow. A birthday party was put off from early February due to bad weather. Now we're postponing again. Bummers; we wanted to see Bartletts! A certain child who will remain unnamed try to convince me that we might as well try to go. After all, if we're not going to get there, we might as well Not Get There after having made an attempt rather than just give up before we even try. Because, if we try, we might actually succeed in Getting There, and we most certainly won't get there if we don't even try. I explained to him that Not Getting There could involve a ditch, a tow truck, a significant deductible on car repairs, increased car insurance premiums, and possibly physical damage to our bodies. My version was that, if we're not going to make it to the get-together, better to Not Get There by staying safe at home rather than Not Get There by sitting in a ditch waiting to be towed.

But I'm going to have to venture out to the nearby village to do paper route. And to buy yeast. We're nearly out of bread. I started soaking the grain to make a couple of batches of bread. And then discovered that there's no yeast in this house. (And don't anybody remind me that I already discovered that on Wednesday!!! Because I forgot. I'm old. I can't remember anything. In fact, I'll probably go to town to do the paper route, and still forget to buy yeast.)

St Sava's

Our fieldtrip today was to St Sava Serbian Orthodox Cathedral. It's probably the most beautiful building I've ever been in. The only thing that compares aesthetically is the Library of Congress in Washington DC, except that it extols an entirely different religion than the cathedral in Milwaukee.

"Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses" is clearly demonstrated in the plethora of mosaic icons. All the walls and ceilings are done in mosaics. There are traditional Orthodox saints, and there are saints specific to Serbia. There are church fathers and apostles and evangelists. But the ones I love the best are the Bible stories. So many Bible stories all over the walls in mosaic, and in the windows in stained glass.

The inside of the dome over the nave is one big icon of Jesus. At first I really liked it: Jesus looking down, watching over His people. But tonight, after praying the Creed with the kids at bedtime, I'm rethinking it. We so often think of Jesus' ascension as being His "going up" to heaven, sort of "away from us." Pastor has been making the point in the last couple of years that Jesus ascension is not a geographic ascension, "going away" to heaven. Rather, it is an ascension of office, like the king ascending the throne. The king isn't going anywhere. He's not necessarily going "up" (although sometimes there are a few stairs involved to make the point obvious). He's just being elevated to His position of power. I suppose the icon in the dome of St Sava's doesn't necessarily represent Jesus being "up there" in heaven. But the deacon did explain that the Greek church is more about heaven coming to earth, whereas the Serbian is more about earth benefiting from what goes on in heaven. That perspective would be consistent with my initial thoughts about the icon of Jesus in the main dome over the nave.

What's in Your Fridge?

Jane started this and tagged everybody.
I'm sure that all of us have lots of stuff in our fridges, so list just five things in each category. Pick what makes your fridge original, embarrassing or average. It's up to you; I've chosen to pick some of the odder things. (It'll give y'all something to laugh at.) I'm tagging Katie and anybody else who wants to play --except Coral who's not allowed until after tests.


On the Shelves: whole-wheat home-made tortillas, leftover baked yams, leftover clam sauce for pasta, eggs from happy chickens, and whey.

Drinks: I only have five different things at the moment. Milk, Irish cream, red wine, Leinie Red, and Leinie Honey Weiss. (It sounds like we drink virtually nothing but liquor, but the reality is that the juice gets inhaled about 18 seconds after it's transferred from the freezer to the refrigerator.)

In the Cheese Drawer: Swiss, feta, mozzarella, cream cheese, and cheddar.

In the Produce Bin: Fuji apples, cabbage, organic carrots, iceberg lettuce, and mushrooms.

In the Door: lard, home-made peach jelly, Kikkoman's honey-pineapple teriyaki glaze (yowza!!), pepperocinis, and home-made mayonnaise.

In the Freezer: spices, fruit for smoothies, leftover daquiri from the wedding, suprema dophilus, and ice-cubes made of red-cabbage juice (intended for use in science experiments as a litmus test).

Scattered Thoughts

You know what people do when they're snowed in? Check blogs. My site-meter report for the day of the big storm last week was unbelievably high. LOL!

We were talking about the story of David and Bathsheba the other day. 2 Samuel 23 tells us that Uriah was one of David's "thirty chief men." That shows some of the political seriousness of what David did, and how desperately he thought he needed to cover up his sin.

A discovery made during church yesterday -- A pastor with significant tinnitis doesn't notice when the microphones and speakers go haywire. He thinks the unbearable sounds coming out of the sound-system are just in his head, part of his malady. What does a congregant do in that case? Stand up and shout, "Would you PLEASE turn that thing off"?

I'm just loving this Chris fella on American Idol. Not only is he one of the really good singers, but he's witty and funny and enjoyable. If he stays on, I'm afraid I'm going to get hooked on this season, no matter how hard I'm trying to stay away from the tv when the show is on.

It drives me nuts when smart, intelligent children decide that they're "dumb" and don't "get math." And then they freak themselves out, sit there and stare at a math problem like a deer struck by car headlights, and bemoan their wretchedness for having gotten plagued by a mother who thinks they're actually capable of doing a little math. Good grief, it gets so much easier once they pay attention to the math book instead of focusing on the litany of how "this is too hard."

The Quinquagesima epistle (this last Sunday) was from 1 Corinthians 13 and said "Love bears all things." The preceding Sunday's epistle was from 2 Corinthians 11 where Paul was sarcastically telling the folks from Corinth that, although they bore with the false prophets who put them into bondage, he was too weak for that. I've been puzzling over that for four days now. And I'm beginning to think that the answer has something to do with the preceding line in 1 Corinthians 13: "love rejoices in the truth." Doesn't seem like a person could rejoice in true doctrine and still bear with false prophets.

There is no yeast in this house. I had started making the pizza and there was no yeast. No yeast?? Eeeks! I just bought yeast a few weeks ago. I finished the little jar last time I made bread, and that was the next-to-last jar. I remember seeing the pound of yeast sitting on the shelf, next to the jello. It's not there now. Had to switch over to the beer crust for the pizza. Better flavor, but worse texture. Oh well, if that's all you've got, then that's what you eat.

When I was in town doing paper route yesterday, there were birds singing and twittering!

On the subject of "trying to be good" (agaaaaain), it crossed my mind this week that there is a significant difference in connotation between "trying to be good" and "desiring to be good."

Also on that subject, I have often been told that it's only works-righeousness if a person thinks his good works are earning salvation, earning heaven. But Pastor mentioned something in passing this week about how it's wrong to believe that good works are "meritorious" -- that is, that our good works will earn a reward from God. (Wouldn't that include rewards that are "lesser" than salvation?)

Pr Petersen has a post on the 1801 election of Jefferson. I found it quite interesting because the boys and I are studying that period of American history right now. But what really tops off the analogy to synodical politics is Pr Weedon's quote from St Gregory Nazianus.

It drives me nuts when the kids mumble. They don't speak clearly, and they don't project their voice, and then they get perturbed with me if I didn't hear what they said. Good grief, it takes so much work and effort and concentration to hear them when they slip into these lousy vocalization habits. It must be very draining for people who are losing their hearing to try to grasp something of the conversation going on around them. I was getting a headache yesterday from trying to hear what these two were saying -- as they were talking at the same time about entirely different subjects (one bemoaning math) at the same time that I was trying to remedy the pizza-crust snafu.

I always used to wonder how Mary Magdalene knew to anoint Jesus for His burial (John 12). It finally dawned on me that He told her. He told them all. He told them all repeatedly. For example, prior to the Transfiguration, He told them what was coming up in Jerusalem (Matthew 16:21). And then in last Sunday's Gospel (Luke 18:31-33) He told them all about it again, just a few days before Mary anointed Him. Whereas I used to think it was odd that Mary knew, now it seems odder yet that the apostles didn't know.

And to conclude, my friend Anthea is hosting the second annual International Tiara Day. It's scheduled for March 1. I think I'm too old and frumpy and have lost too much of my goofiness to join the 20-somethings in this. But I guess I'm still young and goofy enough to be considering it. :-) I've got a week to decide.

Dust to Dust

"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return."

There was a paragraph in the church bulletin this afternoon, explaining why we have the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday. The pastor referred to the curse of the fall in Genesis 3. God said, "Cursed is the ground for your sake." In our way of speaking, "for your sake" could mean "because of you" or "for your benefit." Those two things could be pretty different! It seems obvious that part of "for your sake" is because Adam sinned, and God is responding "because of" what he did. But the curse is also for our benefit. In Day By Day We Magnify Thee today, we read an excerpt of Luther's sermon on suffering and the cross:

"It is highly necessary that we should suffer ... because the great and precious treasure which we have (if it were given to us without such suffering and affliction) would make us snore in our security.... The only way God can check such evil is through the cross. He must so discipline us that our faith increases and grows stronger, and we thus draw the Saviour all the deeper into our soul. For we can no more grow strong without suffering and temptation than we can without eating and drinking."

The sermon this afternoon mentioned that God will keep sending affliction to us until we are finally crushed enough to know -- to really know -- that "there dwells in me no good thing." And then, once we've learned that (as if we could this side of the grave!) we won't care about affliction because our eyes will be fixed so firmly on Jesus and our hearts will be so captivated by Him that we won't worry about the troubles.

This helps explain something from class Monday night. We were on the story of David and Bathsheba and Nathan (2 Samuel 11-12). Pastor was talking about the chastisement (not "punishment") given to David. It seemed to me that he was almost verging on saying that it was good that David sinned, so that the cross of suffering would result, so that the cross would keep David's eyes fixed on God's word of promise. When I asked, Pastor said, "No, no, no!" (But I was told after class that somebody else was wondering the same thing, so I'm glad I stuck my foot in my mouth and asked.) Pastor explained that talking about what "would've happened" if David hadn't sinned is kinda sorta pointless. Yes, it's true that not sinning is good. But after all, the verse of the week is "I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) there dwells no good thing. To will is present with me, but how to perform what is good, that I do not do." So we will sin, he said. And when we do, our gracious Father works even that for our good and for our salvation, drawing us ever closer to Himself. After puzzling over that on the way home Monday night, today's Day By Day portion and this afternoon's sermon all fit together in a very helpful way.

As a father never turneth
Wholly from a wayward child,
For the prodigal still yearneth,
Longing to be reconciled,
So my many sins and errors
Find a tender, pardoning God,
Chastening frailty with His rod,
Not, in vengeance, with His terrors.
All things else have but their day;
God's great love abides for aye. (TLH 25:5)

It's above freezing and ...

everyone is flocking to the car wash! I figured that today, while I was doing the weekly errands, I should wash the salt and grime off the vehicle. Everybody else thought the same thing! The line for the automatic car wash was all the way out to the road. People were probably 45 minutes to an hour for their turn. I'm impatient; I decided to use the sprayer and risk getting my feet wet. Ah, it looks so much better, and I'm no longer smearing gunk onto my coat every time I get near the car.

War of 1812

In past years of homeschooling, we could never find much on the War of 1812. We found kiddy books on the Star Spangled Banner. We found grown-up books on the war. We found long, dry, boring books in the children's section of the library. Last week, we finally bumped into a decent resource. Jean Fritz's The Great Little Madison is a biography of James Madison. Because of what was involved in his life, this book works well for studying things like the Constitution and Federalist Papers, as well as the War of 1812. I wish, when some of the older kids were still homeschooling, I'd thought of seeking out a biography from this time period as a way to find information on events.

Today's Seminar

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!

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.