Skittle Bowl

Watching one episode of Downton Abbey, we gasped when we saw the family playing Skittle Bowl.  "Hey!  We have that!"

It belonged to my cousins, and it came to us when my aunt (Katie's godmother) was moving and thus decluttering.  Seeing the game in the show reminded Maggie of its existence.  She hauled it out and has been playing a lot.  She's figuring out how to "roll" the ball to obtain better scores.

And she's learning to score bowling.  Tsk tsk tsk -- the kids these days don't get to learn how to keep score in bowling because the computers do all the work for them.  But she seems to be figuring it out nicely this week at home.

I love the clatter of those wood pins falling -- it's such a pretty sound!

Snow

Snow-mixed-with-rain every day this week.  But we've comforted ourselves with "At least it's not sticking." 

And this morning, middle of April, I look out the window ...

and it's sticking. 
It's not deep enough to shovel yet.
But the grass, the deck, the neighbors' roofs -- snow.


Intellectually I know that I'll be leaving the house without a winter coat in, oh, say, a month.  But in my gut I don't believe it will ever happen:  I'll be wearing a winter coat for the rest of my life ....

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Well, I sure was schnookered by that review.

The reviewer wrote that "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" was a movie about an unconventional school teacher in Scotland in the 1930's; she wanted to inculcate in her students the love of "goodness, truth, and beauty."  Hmm.  Sounds kind of like me.   And yet there were niggling remembrances from my childhood that this was a "bad movie" that grown-ups whispered about.  Really?  It was "bad" because she was an unconventional teacher?

So we ordered it from Netflix.  Put it in the DVD player.  And began to wonder if the movie might be going somewhere in spite of how it was stacking up. 

After 30 minutes, I turned it off because the "unconventional teacher" was having multiple affairs with men and brainwashing the girls with liberal politics.   Not wanting to Give Up On It Too Early, I checked Wiki.  Sure enough, this teacher's "unconventionality" is worlds --universes-- different from my "unconventionality." 

Yeah, the DVD is back in the mailbox even though I didn't see the end of the movie. 

And for those of you who know how much I hate stopping a book or magazine or movie or lecture in the middle, you know that's a drastic step!

Chilly Easter

So I think this was the first Easter Vigil ever where I sang the Song of the Three Young Men (including the lines "You frost and cold, bless the Lord; you ice and snow, bless the Lord") when there was ice and snow right outside the window next to me. 

And then shortly before sundown on Easter, after all the kids had left, I looked out the window, and what did I see?  Snow.  More snow than mere flurries.  Snow dumping out of the sky.  It had been warm enough that it didn't stick to the deck for more than a few minutes.  But still. 

Yoo hoo!  Spring?  Where are you?




But you know what was cool?  On Easter morning, with all the grey skies and the cloud cover, there was not a hint of being able to tell where the sun was hiding behind those thick clouds.  And as the organist was playing the intro to "Thanks to Thee, O Christ Victorious" I was hearing the [ahem] real first verse to that hymn (TLH 207) which is:
Like the golden sun ascending,
breaking through gloom of night,
on the earth its glory spending
so that darkness takes to flight,
thus my Jesus from the grave
and death's dismal dreadful cave
rose triumphant Easter morning
at the early purple dawning.

And that was when the sun broke through for all of about two minutes.  Just long enough to shed light on that hymn!  Like the sun and the creation just had to bust in and join the celebration indoors at the altar!

They Didn't Love Him Back

Okay, so Jesus was mocked.
And they beat Him up.
And the Father's wrath was poured upon Him.

Bad stuff.  Painful stuff.

But somehow, this morning, listening to Pilate say, "Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered You to me," a different pain appeared. 

Those people scheming to get Him killed, those were His people.  He chose them.  He gave them not only their lives and breath, but their nation and their land.  He sent them prophets to call them back to Himself.  And now for three years He'd been healing them, preaching to them, forgiving them, helping them.

And it annoyed them so much that they wanted Him dead. 

These weren't just some people that a nice God wanted to save because He's full of love and goodness.  These were His very own people. 

What ache is there like the ache of unrequited love, especially when you're pouring yourself out for one who not only doesn't appreciate it, but hates you because you love?

"Funny" to Forgive Somebody?

One morning recently, as we were opening at work, somebody inadvertently left out a step.  Beep beep beep.  The alarm sounded. The security company phoned to determine whether the alarm was an accident or something alarming.  My boss answered the phone and jumped through the hoops to verify what needed to be proved.  She concluded with, "I'm sorry.  I forgot to ...." After her brief explanation, she listened for a moment.  And then she started chuckling.

When she got off the phone, she told us that he'd said, "Oh, I forgive you." 

She was amazed by that.  He'd said, "I forgive you."  That was really weird.  WHY would he say, "I forgive you"?  She laughed about that on-and-off for another 15-20 minutes. 



A friend of mine told me that they'd been taught in premarital catechesis not to say, "I'm sorry" and "That's okay."  They'd been told it would be more helpful to say something on the order of "I hurt you" or "I sinned against you" and to respond with "It's forgotten" or "I forgive you for Jesus' sake."

At our house and with my friends, we usually say "I'm sorry" and "That's okay."  Sometimes I feel guilty about that.  It's hard to say "I forgive you" not because the forgiveness is hard.  What's hard is the admission that, yes, what the other person did was just plain wrong and sinful.  It's easier when we act like it's not a big deal, when we sweep it away with "That's okay." 

I know people who are so good about saying "I forgive you."  I want to hear "I forgive you."  But saying it?

What I saw the other day makes me realize that there are two completely different meanings behind "I'm sorry."  One is contrition, and the only response is to forgive.  But most of the time in our country, "I'm sorry" is a polite phrase.  There is no sorrow or grief behind the words.  So "I forgive you" sounds bizarre, funny, maybe even insulting, to those who aren't sorry-from-the-gut when they say "sorry."

The Power of Baptism

There's something in Narnia that always confused me.  Always.  In The Last Battle, at the end of the book, one of the Calormenes ends up in Aslan's Country.  (In case you've never read the books, this suggests that devotees of a false god will be saved if they have misunderstood their god and imagined him to be like the true God, so that they were kinda sorta worshiping the true God even though they didn't know Him by His true name.)

What would this say about baptism?

Is what we think about God the important thing, the main thing?  What about baptism, where God places His name upon us?

Can people misunderstand what their religion teaches, believing falsely when the truth is taught, OR believing rightly when falsehoods are taught?  Yes, obviously.  Can people die in the faith prior to receiving the gift of baptism?  Yes, of course.  But what happens in baptism --to be made a child of God-- is no small potatoes.  It makes a difference.  It changes who we are.  It gives us access to God. 

And I can't figure out how that fits with this tiny section of The Last Battle of Narnia.

The Couch of Recuperation

When you're sick, where do you head?  To the couch?  Or to your bed?

Maggie asked me once why Beaver Cleaver's mother would send him up to his bedroom when he was sick.  Similarly, watching Downton Abbey, we see people sent to their bedrooms when they are sick. 

But for us, it's the couch. 
When I was a kid, it was the couch. 

I think it's partly because the television is in the living room, where the couch is.  The tv helps keep a sicko entertained and quiet.  But that's not all.  If I had a tv in my bedroom, I'd still prefer to lollygag in the living room when ill. 

I don't want to be alone, tucked off in another room, when I'm sick.  I want to have my loved ones around.  Even if I am snoozing for much of the day.   And when others are sick, I want to go about many of my chores while still keeping an eye on the sick one, available to fetch things or help. 



(This should probably teach me something about the importance of sitting with people who are stuck in the hospital.)

Holy Week

Pastor Esget writes briefly about why this week is different from all other weeks of the year.  This week is everything.  (And for somebody who's still fighting off the colds that have been passed all over this winter, I really don't want to lose my voice this week, of all weeks!) 

Go read the article.  But don't skim it; let it soak in.

Don't Tell Me There's Gotta Be "More" Than "Just" the Absolution

And here's why:

Sin wrecked everything.
Therefore the forgiveness of sins fixes everything.

-- an excerpt from tonight's sermon

Oh, Those Brits

You know you've been watching too much BBC when an American character shows up in Downton Abbey, and you begin puzzling to yourself, "Hmmm, that sounds odd.  Where have I heard that accent before?"

Those Pronouns

Nearly-two-year-old Zoe was listening to a book that my mom bought once-upon-a-time for my kids.  It's sung to the tune of Jingle Bells, and the last line of each half-verse is "Jesus is with me."  I had just sung the book to Alia, and when I paused, she had supplied missing words.  As Zoe is just learning to talk in the last few weeks, when she requested a repeat of the book I didn't leave her words like "bus" or "train" or "sled."  Instead, I stopped with "Jesus is with ...."  I knew she was well-familiar with the word "me" because, when asked to identify people in the family, she would point to everyone else and state their names, but point to herself and state "me."

When faced with "Jesus is with ..." the poor child was stymied.  As a couple of seconds passed, I wondered what the delay was.  She finally decided.  "You," she said. 

Wow.  That kid understands pronouns much better than she's supposed to at this age!

Rethinking What It Is To "Be Nice"

At work I am a hypocrite.  A shell.  A faker.  My co-workers really don't know me.  Hey, I'm supposed to "act professional" ... which isn't me.  I have to put on a show at work.   So I watch what I say and don't talk as much as some of the others.  They know I'm an oddball, they know I have a voodoo fondness for curing illness with garlic, they know I homeschool and have a garden and don't go out for lunch, but they have no idea just how un-mainstream I am. 

So it always surprises me when Gary goes to the bank to take care of some business and meets people I've worked with, and comes home with reports of just how nice I am.  My first reaction is usually, "How would they know whether I'm nice?" (especially if it's somebody I worked with only a day or two).  But then I realize: they think I'm nice because I let them talk. 

Really?  That's all it takes for somebody to think you're super-nice? 

Amazing.

Pun Gone Wrong

Four-year-old Alia told me, with a sneaky twinkle in her eyes, that "a goose was coming out of my pants leg." 

Well, okay.  I wasn't sure what that meant, but that's okay.

Then her mommy said, "You mean a CALF is coming out of Nanna's pants leg??"

Oh.  Yes.  That's it!

So ... the names of some body parts aren't as obvious as others ....

Round Loaves of Bread

You know those lovely, round, rustic-looking loaves of bread?  I could never pull them off.  I tried making a round ball of dough, let it rise, and bake it.  What did I get?  Something flatter than I wanted, with edges that were way too flat.

So I tried putting the dough-ball into a greased bowl.   After it rose and baked, I would turn it out onto the cooking rack, only to find a "loaf" that was so roly-poly that it seemed tippy and unstable.  And who wants unstable bread? 

This weekend I experimented with a springform pan, the kind you use for cheesecake.  Hot diggety dog!  That's the way to do it.  The sides of the springform pan set a limit to how far the bread can spread out flat-like.  The dough is forced to rise up instead of out.  But the sides of the pan are straight, so the loaf is more even; and the loaf will not have the rounded sides & bottom that develop from being baked in a roundish bowl. 

PS: I put one large loaf of bread (maybe 4 cups of flour?) into a well-greased 9" cheesecake pan.  That worked beautifully.

Synergism

"We believe in synergism with regard to sanctification."
I've heard it from a variety of people.
Some even quote one of the "dead orthodox" Lutheran fathers.

And yet,
how does that fit with the catechism?
"I believe that I cannot,
by my own reason or strength,
believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord,
or come to Him,
BUT the Holy Ghost has ...
sanctified me."

Cardiology

Maggie's echocardiogram today looked great.  Based on how her heart sounded during last year's check-up, the doctor expected some degradation.  He was surprised and pleased that her leak is "mild."  Also "mild" is the pulmonary stenosis (narrowing of the artery). 

The other good news is that one of his patients had a valve replacement in the cath-lab.  Replacing valves via catheterization (as opposed to needing open-heart surgery) isn't common yet, but it's being done by our doctors in our hospital for patients like Maggie.  With how well she's doing, catheterization should be the norm by the time she needs help again.  Might this really mean No More Heart Surgeries?

More good news: Children's Hospital has instituted an adult clinic for people with congenital heart defects.  This means we won't have to change hospitals, and will continue working with doctors who are well-versed in heart defects (as opposed to heart disease, which is what most cardiologists deal with).

The doctor got a dose of Maggie's wit today (which seemed to tickle him).  He brought up the subject of sleep apnea and was asking some questions.  He was explaining to Maggie that sleep apnea is a problem because a person can't be well-rested when "your body keeps waking you up so that you can start breathing again."  "Well, isn't that better than NOT waking up?"  Doctor's eyebrows raised, then he smiled, then he saluted her with a high-five and laughed.

Drink of It, ALL of You?

... He gave it to His disciples and said, "Take, eat; this is My body."  ... "Drink of it, all of you ..."

Hey!  He gave it to WHOM?  Those disciples?  The ones who were soon to abandon Him?  The ones who denied Him? 

There's some comfort there!  If Jesus would give Himself to/for those followers who ran away instead of followed, then that means He'll do the same for me -- lousy follower that I am!

Velcro Paws

Folding socks and hankies and napkins. And they're sticking to my hands.  Like as if my hands are so rough and dry and scaly that they're Velcro. 

Note to self:  there IS hand-cream in the house....

Saving Money in the Kitchen

Time is money, they say.

According to a sample issue of allrecipes (which arrived in my mail this week), you pay more for convenience foods.  Are you astounded by the revelation that pre-packaged salad greens cost more than a head of lettuce, and that an envelope of taco spice mix is pricier than dumping in your own teaspoons of salt, cumin, and chili powder?  What?  You're not surprised by this news flash?  Well, the magazine offers further encouragement to avoid convenience foods:

Going DIY in the kitchen only adds about 10 extra minutes to meal prep, according to the UCLA Center on the Everyday Living of Families.

Idiots!

It might only take me an extra minute or two to add my own spices instead of using a mix.  But cooking from scratch takes more time than 10 extra minutes per meal.  Shredding cheese.  Baking bread.  Making soup stock.  Preparing dry beans.  Rolling out pie crust.  Snapping fresh green beans.  Scrubbing potatoes, boiling them, and then mashing them.  Baking granola.

Now, I'm all for the nutrition boost of real foods.  And I think it's wise to try to avoid much of the crud that hides in pre-packaged foods.  And it's definitely cheaper to do it yourself.

But c'mon, 10 minutes?  If you make a pizza crust from scratch, make the pizza sauce from scratch, cook the sausage, grate the cheese, and then bake the pizza, that's not a mere 10 minutes longer than ripping the plastic off a frozen pizza.

And I'm not even counting whacko things like making your own butter and cheese, raising your own veggies, rolling out your own noodles, etc.

Oh sure, 10 minutes.  Like as if do-it-yourself in the kitchen is a trifle.