Local Homeschool Group

I'm feeling poor and overly busy.

There's a nice group of moms who have started getting together on second Fridays at the library. They would like a homeschool group that is closer to home, so they don't have to drive across the county or to the neighboring big cities for activities.

What I don't understand is how many activities they are involved with, or want to initiate. When they talk about weekly or bi-weekly gym days, I'm wondering about how we're going to fit something else into the calendar. When they talk about having book discussions for the kids, I'm wondering how I would ever convince my kids to read something that isn't already on their top-choice list or on my assignment list for them. When they talk about fieldtrips, the places are invariably too costly for us to consider. When they talk about having the moms get together sometime in the dark days of late winter for "mom time" without the kids, I wonder if I'd even want to make that work, given how little I see Gary (and how little I see the dear friends I already have).

I just have this feeling that it's time to quit hanging out with homeschoolers. I want to use my limited amount of time and energy these days on relationships where there's more to it* than having homeschooling be the main unifying factor in the relationship.

It's weird. I really do believe that it's good for homeschoolers to stick together, and for the seasoned ones to be there helping the newbies, as well as the seasoned ones finding new ideas and enthusiasm from the newbies. And there are new people whom I'm sure I would thoroughly enjoy getting to know. But there is limited time, and as I get older the time and energy available seems to be plummeting. When you can't do the stuff you need to do, something has to go, even if you think its valuable.

* Footnote: This of course does not mean that I'm going to cross people off the list of my friends just because they homeschool! :-) I would hope that goes without saying, but just in case....

Fair

The word fair sometimes means beautiful and pleasant. And yet we more often use the word fair to mean impartial or just or free from bias. What if the second meaning developed from the first? Wouldn't it make sense that being impartial and free from bias is a pleasing and beautiful way for a judge or court to operate?

Who Got Us into This Mess?`

Many YouTube videos have been posted in recent weeks, showing quotes, showing clips of Senate hearings, showing testimony given before congress, etc. It seems that they keep getting pulled. Here's one that might stay posted for more than a day or two. It demonstrates who was predicting trouble from what was going on with Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, and who was trying to protect the status quo of allowing (and even encouraging) bad-risk mortgages.

Less Ironing

The other day I didn't finish folding the load of whites. I went downstairs to start more laundry today and discovered the basket of clean clothes. Why is it that everything gets so much wrinklier if I pull it out of the dryer and put it in a basket? I "try" to get the clothes folded/hung when the dryer is done, but most of the time it doesn't happen the way it should -- although I do take more care with the perma-press loads of shirts. But what amazes me is how I can leave a finished load in the dryer for two days and find slightly wrinkled clothes, but transferring those clothes to a laundry-basket and leaving them for a day makes it all embarrassingly wrinkled.

I think the moral of the story is to never ever take anything out of the dryer until I'm ready to fold it right away ... even if "right away" is long after its dry. But what could be the scientific explanation for why that happens??

Robe of Righteousness

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to Thy cross I cling;
naked, come to Thee for dress;
helpless, look to Thee for grace;
foul, I to the fountain fly --
wash me, Savior, or I die.

The words in the song: "Thy cross" and "look to Thee." We look at the cross as we sing those lines. We see that He is naked. They stripped Him of His clothes, casting lots for them, and dividing His garments among them.

Helpless, poor, foul, and naked, we come to the crucified one who hangs there with nothing, having given all. And He continues to give His holiness, His robe of righteousness, His priestly garments, even though to all outward appearances He doesn't have any clothing to give! But because He gave up His, it becomes ours. And we are arrayed more richly than the flowers of the field which are arrayed more beautifully than even Solomon was in all his earthly splendor.

I stood, my shame bemoaning,
Thou com'st to honor me.
A glory dost Thou give me,
a treasure safe on high
that will not fail nor leave me
as earthly riches fly.

I'm Voting Democrat

This nearly-4-minute YouTube video has lots of reasons to vote Democratic this November. Even Republicans and Independents will want look into this.

Occupational Hazard

Still struggling with my voice. (Jenny, I have requested the book your speech-therapist friend recommended and am still waiting for it.) I've realized a huge part of my voice problems are because I have learned, over the last couple of decades, to speak from my throat instead of from my gut. I used to be in choirs all the time, and that gave me better training/habits in how to use my voice and have it come from my belly.

So what changed?

All I can figure is it's because of the lovely, wonderful, terrific, enjoyable pleasure of curling up on the couch with my kids and reading aloud to them. Snuggling on a bed for bedtime stories, or piled together on the couch to read chapter after chapter... the cuddling and the back-rubs and the blankets take priority over posture. And yet, the posture of reading aloud while curled up on the sofa meant that my lungs couldn't fill properly, my diaphragm couldn't do its job, and thus my voice was coming out of my upper chest and throat. And it wore out.

Now I have to straighten out those habits and set them right again. And it's hard. It means paying attention to my diaphragm when I'm singing instead of paying attention to the notes in choir, or the text of the hymn during prayers. It may even mean having to stand to read aloud to the kids. Bummers! But it's gotta be done if I want to keep my voice.

But yikesy, does the good new/old habit have to be practiced ALL the time? I am not yet ready to give up the joys of curling up on the couch with my kids to read.

Gum

People who have jaw-clicking in the family or other signs of TMJ trouble should NOT allow their children to chew gum. I didn't know this with Katie, and let her chew and chew and chew for years, thinking that it should be okay because at least she was chewing sugarless gum. I wish I had known then that the gum-chewing I didn't particularly like was something that was actually really bad for her and not just my hang-up.

Hey, you people with my genes! You know what this means when you bring my grandkids into the world!

Accepting However Many

I have often heard the line about "accepting as many children as the Lord gives." What I don't understand is why this would have to mean that the person was against the use of contraceptives. If God gives children (or not), then wouldn't "accepting as many as the Lord gives" mean that you don't kill the ones He gives? It seems to me that a couple that uses contraception still "accepts as many as the Lord gives" unless they get rid of the children who are conceived in spite of their attempts to the contrary.

Interesting Line

At choir tonight, we pulled out a book we hadn't used yet this year. I was flipping through it while the baritones were working on their part. It has Praetorius arrangements of chorales. The Easter piece is "The Clouds of Night Are Passed Away," and one of the lines is:

The Offspring of the virgin womb
is risen from the virgin tomb.

I just love that!!
I may be a poetry dunce, but THAT one even I appreciate!

Farewell, Clothesline

The days are getting shorter. They've often been gray and rainy. And they're definitely cool. It was just taking too long for the cl0thes to get dry. I'd leave them on the line all day, and as evening (and dew!) approached they weren't yet dry.

So I've been using the dryer in the basement. I'm not used to the smell of HOT to dry the clothes. I'm not going to like the gas/electric bill when it arrives. But, boy oh boy, you can sure get the laundry done quickly this way!! Only half a day to do four loads and have them all dry and folded. Wow.

Testing

Pastor has often talked about how "testing" in the Bible is to reveal faith. God doesn't "test" someone to trip him up. It's for the sake of showing him (and us) where his faith rests.

In the last couple of weeks, with the stories of the Israelites' wilderness wanderings, occasionally there were places where it says the Israelites tested God. At first glance, what would that mean? But as Pastor said, that too shows what someone believes. When the Israelites "test" God, it shows Him to be faithful to His promises. He does not punish them as they deserve (although He definitely chastises them) but rather holds faithfully to the promises He gave them. So even when someone tests God, it's about revealing that He sticks to what He said instead of treating us according to what we have merited.

He shows to man His treasure
of judgment, truth, and righteousness,
His love beyond all measure,
His yearning pity o'er distress,
nor treats us as we merit,
but lays His anger by. (part of TLH 34:2)

Only Two Adults into Canaan

Last week our Bible stories was about the spies coming back from scouting the Promised Land. Ten said the land was just as bountiful as God had told them, but they couldn't capture it. Caleb and Joshua said they would go into the land, and the Lord would give it to them, just as He'd said. The people agreed with the ten. God said, okie-dokie, fine, if you insist on it then you can all die out here just like you say I'm gonna kill you in the wilderness, except for Joshua and Caleb who will go into the Promised Land with your children.

At that point, we hadn't gotten to today's story where Moses profaned God's name by striking the Rock (instead of speaking to it). Earlier, when God said "only Joshua and Caleb; all the other adults will die in the wilderness" Moses had not sinned the sin for which he was banned from entering the Promised Land.

But God knew what was coming.

Happy Developments

Philip got a job. He starts tomorrow. It even has benefits.

We went to Erin's dentist today. Wow! We like him. And the hygienists. Andrew doesn't think he'll be nervous about his next appointment to the dentist. Furthermore, this dentist suggests repairing my broken tooth (which the old dentist said would not be done) so as to forestall the need for a crown.

The bummer from the dentist appointment was that Teeth-Rotting Girl had her first cavities in 2½ years.

"100" -- Jogging Path

It's been a while since I uploaded these pictures from the camera.


75. I've gotten so used to CAT TAILS that I can identify them in many different stages of growth. I was so proud of myself that I knew these were cat tails when they just looked like fat grass. With the weather changing, soon the "tails" will turn into ugly, falling-apart, beige, puffy messes. The cat tails are on the left. I never did haul out my field guides to decide what the yellow flowers on the right were. I was guessing it might be coreopsis or rudbeckia, but neither ID seemed right, and the longer it grew, the more sure I was that this was no version of either plant that I'd ever learned. So that one's still up for grabs.


76. GOLDENROD is pretty and does not deserve its reputation as a horrid and evil allergen. Actually, the goldenrod blooms about the same time as the ragweed goes nuts, and it's actually the ragweed that gets to us.



77. This is the one that confused me for the longest time. It's hard to see on the blog picture, but if you click on the photo you can see the tiny little flowers and the tinier little leaves in amongst the plantain and the pebbles.

I could've sworn it looked like chamomile. But it was growing right alongside the edge of the road, coming up in the gravel, just inches from the asphalt. When it first came up in June, it looked like chamomile. But then it started "blooming" (a word used very loosely in this context) and it didn't look anything like a tiny daisy. The "flowers" did look like the middle of a chamomile flower, but there were no white rays around the flowerhead. I puzzled over this plant and couldn't find anything in my nature guides. And then one day I was jogging, and I kept smelling Sleepytime tea. Huh? What's up with that? It HAD to be chamomile, but the flowers weren't right. So I put the power of the internet onto solving the puzzle ... as opposed to the power [boom! pow! zappo!] of my small stack of nature guides sitting on the science shelf. Turns out that this plant is PINEAPPLE WEED and it is a chamomile. It's just that this is a chamomile without white ray-petals attached to the yellow-green middle. Suddenly it all made sense. And the name is perfect, as the "flower" looks rather like a miniscule pineapple. For the next couple of weeks, I savored the Sleepytime aromas while jogging. But unfortunately, I dawdled on taking the camera jogging with me, so the plants got way pat their prime and the pictures didn't turn out too well. Suffice it to say that pineapple weed looks like any other chamomile that has been plucked-to-death by a love-sick girl who wants to know if "he loves me" or "he loves me not."

Costs at Work

There are a lot of hidden costs of holding down a job. There's the obvious: commuting and daycare and taxes. But there are also work clothes, the cost of paying someone to do jobs at home that you can't do because of the job, and the little "extras" at work that add up. These are things that need to be considered when a woman thinks about how much spare cash she might garner by taking on employment.

But what about Dad's costs in some of those areas? Gary was worried about those situations where it would be $5 here and $5 there at work. He even asked before he was hired, and was told there aren't very many of those. He doesn't have to go out to eat for lunch, so that's helped. There are occasional contributions for a thank-you gift for somebody or a wedding gift for a different somebody. There are [relatively infrequent] gasoline costs for team-building outings to the ballpark or the zoo or a restaurant.

This week, between a new program to get fit (with good-natured "fines" for those who don't do well) and a gift for someone on the team and a bring-hors-d'ouvres day, we realized something. Gary is the ONLY person on his team that is supporting a family. Everyone else that he works with has disposable income. Either his co-workers live with somebody else who has a full-time income, or they are single. No one else is using that income as the sole income to take care of a spouse and children. That puts a totally new perspective on "$5 here" and "$5 there."

When some friends found out a year ago just how little Gary had been earning as a pastor, they wondered how we had managed to eat, much less live as well as we did. Well, there was a lot of doing-without and a lot of frugality, as well as some generosity from fellow-saints. But it's easier to make ends meet when it's just you and your family. How do you fit in with the folks at work who let go of $5 as easily as I let go of a dime, and who don't understand how anybody could be so poor as to need that $5? And if you don't fit in with them, how do you do it without offending?

Apfelstrudel

We have been eating lots of vegetables from our CSA. With a freezer full of beef, a stockpile of flour and yeast, and weekly boxes of fresh veggies arriving, I haven't been doing much routine grocery shopping. This past week I was running low on several staples and hit up the store. Plums looked good and were cheap. I also bought the first bunch of bananas we'd had in several weeks.

Ohhhhh, fruit! I love fruit! I had forgotten how sweet and wonderful it is!

We were given a half bushel of awesome Macintoshes. We started with one of Mom's apple pies, and then a regular apple pie. We managed the next day to make a gallon of applesauce but, because the virus had a hold on me and Maggie, we didn't manage to can it or freeze it. That's okay: with the germies invading throats here, ready-to-eat applesauce in the fridge is providing some great (and easy-to-swallow) nutrition. We also made a strudel,

partially in deference to the word "strudel" being used so frequently in Maggie's Hogan's Heroes episodes, and partially because it's been many years since I made one, and I didn't figure the younger kids knew what a strudel was.

Today Philip was in need of an Apple Betty and asked for a recipe. Recipe??? For Apple Betty? Uhhhh.... I should probably figure that out. I tried to tell him the general concept that I carry around in my head for Apple Betty. But that is definitely one of my wing-it, do-it-by-feel sorta recipes.

Maggie loved the apple strudel. She wants to have it again. It's not like it's super-hard or anything. But after having made the strudels with Andrew, I am realizing again just why we have the cliche "Easy as Pie." The pie and the Betty are so much easier than the strudel. It's probably been a decade since I made the last strudel, and it may well be another decade before Maggie tastes it again. Isn't it a shame how much abuse she must endure?

Laundry Chute

I have loved having a laundry chute in the new house. No carrying laundry baskets up and down the stairs. Just drop the dirty clothes down the chute, and they magically appear in the laundry room. Living in the lap of luxury!

But with our first round of doozy-colds since we moved, I discovered a downside. There used to be a pile of dirty laundry upstairs, full of t-shirts and socks and jammies that are soft. Lots of times we could blow noses on those clothes that were already in need of laundering -- assuming of course they weren't so dirty that you didn't want 'em near your face. But now we don't have those t-shirts and jammies available. So today, when I folded the load of whites, I found NINETEEN cotton hankies. Nineteen. No wonder I'm getting sore from excessive nose-blowing.

A Female Vice-President

Pr Peperkorn linked to an article by Mollie Ziegler Hemingway (just can't get used to these young folks' married names ... including my daughters' ... but I'm sure I'll get the married names down pat quicker than the new hymnal ... ah, but that's another topic altogether).

Mollie makes excellent points about the double standard. Evangelicals are "supposed to be" upset about having a female vice-president because of the order of creation, and yet, who got upset about Nancy Pelosi as third-in-line? (Well, besides the people who object to her stance on the issues?) The media is hypocritically pointing out how Sarah Palin should be at home with her children, hoping people like me (who think she should be at home with her children) will be repulsed enough to refuse to vote, or to vote for Obama.

Now, really, how can they live with themselves? They're speaking publicly about how terrible it is that Sarah Palin is "neglecting her children" when THEY are the ones setting up daycare centers in corporate workplaces, and advocating killing children who are "inconvenient," and working for tax policies which force many women to feel that they must contribute to the family's income, and defending no-fault-divorce which has put many women in the position of having to provide for children after a man runs off. The typical woman journalist or politician has no right to question Sarah Palin. Now, I do. But I'm voting for her anyway.

I think that, sometime within the next 60-100 years, we will look back at history, and see this as a turning point in what happens to families. I think the outpouring of conservative support for Palin will make a significant change in how our country sees stay-at-home moms and the importance of committing ourselves to our children's needs (quantity-time, not "quality time"). The liberals have already jettisoned those values, but with Palin's nomination (even if she is not elected) I think the conservatives have put themselves in a position of defending the goodness & rightness of women being in the workplace instead of with their children. How many conservatives have been saying in the last month that it doesn't matter whether it's the mom or the dad staying home with the kids? How many conservatives have been saying in the last month that we women CAN "have it all"? How many conservatives have bought hook, line, and sinker into the liberal agenda for women's rights, and we don't even recognize it because we're crazy about this woman who is the politician most like Reagan we've seen in a long, long time?

Right now, we have a choice between Obama/Biden and McCain/Palin. That's a no-brainer. But someday I fear that a tiny minority of old-fashioned folks will look back and see how McCain's choice of Palin resulted in fallout to stay-at-home moms.

Playgrounds

You know all those wussy little playgrounds that decorate the parks now? For whom are they constructed?

It used to be that high slides and long-roped swings and complex climbing equipment would be enjoyable for pre-teens and even teen-agers. Of course, younger kids could play at the playground too, assuming they took on the equipment in a limited way, more appropriate to their smaller size.

But now the playgrounds are built for preschoolers.

What does that say about hurrying children? We are taking 2 yr-olds to the playgrounds now and expecting them to have all sorts of age-appropriate toys there, where 2-yr-olds used to ride in their strollers, play in their sandboxes, and have a small section of the playground that would work for them.

How many 14-yr-olds do you see at a playground any more? Not many, right? And yet, the 14-yr-olds who can still enjoy a swing or a slide that is grown-up sized ... aren't they usually the kids who impress you with how well-adjusted they are, polite to others, hard workers, and not little snits?

Steve

Lest anyone think I've forgotten, let me just say that I've refrained from writing or talking much this year on the subject. Although five years certainly eases the sting and the pain, it still amazes me just how vivid the memories of that hospice room can be ... especially at this time of year, especially with the statue of St Michael out. It's not a bad thing. Just very clear pictures in my mind of what everything looked like, what we sang that week, what we prayed, who was there, etc.

Ye meanwhile are in your chambers sleeping,
quiet, and set free from all our weeping;
no cross or sadness
there can hinder your untroubled gladness.

I Am Not Dead

I used a neti-pot and I am not dead!

Raw garlic slices taped to the skin behind my ears.
Raw garlic taped to my throat.
Making turkey soup.
Gargling with Listerine.
Going through cotton hankies like crazy.

You know I'm desperate when I finally phone my daughter and ask her for instructions on how to use a neti pot. No matter how many people I listen to extol the wonders of their neti pots (ahem: Rachel and Anthea) it still seems WRONG to me to pour water up your nose. Isn't that how you DROWN??? So after Rachel told me how to not drown, I proceeded to attempt this death-embracing concept of pouring water up my nose. I told Rachel where the list of insurance policies was. I told her to buy the cheap pine box. And as Maggie watched, asking questions about subtracting clock-times from one another, I hugged her goodbye and told her I'd see her in heaven someday. (She rolled her eyes.)

But now I can breathe out of both nostrils, and am alive to tell the story!

I think I'll have to not-drown myself a few more times today.

Dawdling

How can it possibly take TWELVE minutes to toast two pieces of bread and spread peanut butter on them? Twelve minutes! No wonder we get nothing done around here....

How does a mother speed up a dawdler?

Frost

Frost? Who said there could be frost this morning? What's up with this? Wasn't it just August a couple of days ago? Didn't I just plant the melon seeds and the tomato bushes a couple of weeks ago?

I don't know how, but it appears that the tomato vines lived through the night, in spite of the car windows needing to be scraped clean this morning. Tonight is supposed to be colder, though. If I want the tomatoes make it, I will have to remember to cover them this evening.

Can you believe it's frosting already?

(And to think they were talking about global WARMING during the v.p. debate last night. Sheeesh.)

My Fault?

As my husband and I were talking over some ...uh... "conflicts" we have had with other people (as in, when somebody bites your head off and you're not sure what just happened or why) we were struggling with how to cope with it. The best advice given to us seems to be to respond with something on the order of "Wow! That's just really inappropriate for you to say!" or "Hey, that was rude!"

In hindsight, that sounds good
because, after all, the comments we were considering really were out of line.

But in the midst of the attack difficulty, it never occurs to us to tell the person he/she is out of line. We just apologize or try to make it better or sit there dumbfounded. Why?

And then it occurred to me: our first inclination is to believe that we did do something wrong ourselves, that we offended, that we made a mistake, that we are the ones who owe the apology. But when you start thinking about it and realize what actually happened (especially when onlookers later confirm that the other person said something shockingly rude) you begin to think of all the things you might've said or should've said. But how do you go back and work out these situations? They're better dealt with when the problem arises. Thing is, we don't automatically think of the attacker as the offender, but always worry about what we did wrong ourselves. And like Gary said, would we want to be different? Do we want to have our default-response to be "It's your fault"? So how do we learn to respond with appropriate shock (and scolding?) to someone who deals with us inappropriately?

St Michael and All Angels

Tonight was our celebration of the Feast of St Michael, transferred from last Monday. The statue of St Michael killing the devil (somewhat similar to the statue pictured below) was placed near the processional crucifix, next to the pulpit.




We see the crucifix, the dead Jesus on the cross.
But what God was seeing in the same event -- the same dead body on the cross -- was the statue: the Angel of the Lord slaying the Accuser.
The two pieces of art there, in juxtaposition with one another, is beautiful. The message of each piece is what we see in the other one.

Everyone a Minister

Our Bible story today and tomorrow is Korah's rebellion (Numbers 16). Some of the Levites were not satisfied with the responsibilities God had given them in caring for the temple, and coveted the office of the priesthood. In verse 3, they gathered together against Moses and Aaron and said, "You take too much upon yourselves, for all the congregation is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is among them. Why then do you exalt yourselves above the assembly of the Lord?"

I knew this was sassy. And covetous. And disrespectful. But today Pastor pointed out something I hadn't realized: the Levites ask why Moses exalted himself above the rest of the people. But Moses wasn't the one who placed him over the Israelites; God was. Asking the pastor or prophet, "What makes you so great?" is ignoring that God was the one who gave him the job. (And honestly, I don't know any pastor worth his salt who thinks he is better than his hearers. Pastors usually think they're unworthy and unfit for the office, but determine to go about their duties nevertheless, because God called them to do so.)

Bailout

Paul Ryan (conservative Republican, well-versed in economics, who worked on crafting yesterday's bailout package) was on Charlie's show this morning.

One of the points he made was that Monday's "bailout" program bore very few similarities to the bailout programs we heard about at the end of last week. The massive public outcry against the bailout was because we all were thinking it was last week's plan which required the taxpayers to rescue irresponsible wheelers-&-dealers. Yesterday's bill called for accountability of the Wall Street executives who botched up, as well as the requirement that Wall Street "pay up" by insuring themselves. Yesterday's bill cut the amount of the bailout in half: "only" $350 billion. Yesterday's bill required that the taxpayers be repaid by the value of the home-mortgages they were purchasing. Yesterday's bill had eliminated Barney Frank's pork and the slush funds for liberal organizations.

I believe in laissez-faire economic theory. I think the government needs to butt out. However, Congressman Ryan made a compelling point. The government has already meddled in the past in the economy. Their meddling is a big part of what got us into this mess. Stepping out now will cause the economy to lock up and send us into depression. If the government can pass a bill which will unlock the economy and set us back on the road to a more laissez-faire economy (for example, making the Wall Street fatcats insure themselves instead of having the government back up private investments). So we DO need a bailout plan. The important thing now is that we don't go back to a plan like last week's (the one with the slush funds and the taxpayers footing the bill).

The Fear of Our Enemies

The media is telling us that this is the blackest time for economic news EVER. Even more than Black Tuesday at the end of 1929? That's what they say.

In the collect for peace, we pray at Vespers:
O God, from whom all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works do proceed, give unto Thy servants that peace which the world cannot give, that our hearts may be set to obey Thy commandments, and also that by Thee, we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, may pass our time in rest and quietness; through the merits of Jesus Christ , our Savior....

I have been finding it very interesting in the past months how the Church has prayed for centuries that God defends us from the fear of our enemies. We don't confess in this particular spot that God is delivering us from the enemies themselves (although ultimately He does do just that). It is not really the enemies that rob us of rest and quietness: it is the fear of our enemies that does us in.

This is not a Rooseveltian platitude. It is an acknowledgment that our fear IS an exhibition of our mistrust, and that our God is faithful to defend us even from the doubts and fears we wallow in.

Take they our life, goods, fame, child, and wife;
let these all be gone;
they yet have nothing won;
the kingdom ours remaineth!

Midsummer Night's Dream

Last Tuesday the kids and I attended another APT play with some homeschooling friends. Midsummer Night's Dream was a play I never understood, could never follow, and didn't particularly want to attend. But I learned my lesson when, in a previous year, I attended APT's Romeo and Juliet (which I had never liked) and found it absolutely enchanting. So we ordered tickets with our school group and trucked ourselves off to the woods to see the play which was just MADE for a geographical location like APT.

It was wonderful. I kept track of who was who, and what was going on, and where they were. (This is no small thing for someone who used to be an avowed Shakespeare-hater.) The jokes were hilarious. The plot was pure silliness. Unlike many of the plays which have deep messages hiding here and there behind the drama or the humor or the tragedy, Midsummer was just plain FUN. There was virtually no redeeming educational value, nothing thoughtful to analyze and ponder, just plenty to laugh at!

Gary and I were hoping to be able to get over to Spring Green together so that he could see it before the season closed -- and so that I could see the play at night, with all the cool lighting effects that fell flat during the matinee. Ah, it is sad: between work interfering with playtime and with all the remaining evening shows sold out, we cannot go. We'll have to plan ahead for next year so that he doesn't have to miss any of the plays "up the hill."

Annetta's Mexican Corn Chowder

Katie asked for the following recipe, and this is what I have jotted down. Usually now I prepare it with real milk and real chicken stock instead of with dry milk with water. And it doesn't have to be chicken breast, but can be chicken stock with thigh meat or whatever. It's definitely a tweakable recipe, but here is the starting point.


Boil in 1.5 quarts of water:
3 large potatoes, diced
1 onion, chopped
1 large chicken breast
1 pound frozen corn (or two 1# cans)
1 Tablespoon cumin
1 can Rotel (or 15-oz can of Mexican stewed tomatoes,
that is, the kind with tomatoes and chili peppers)

When potatoes are tender, remove chicken breast from pot.
Whisk together:
2.7 cups dry milk
2/3 cup flour
2 cups cold water
(You may need to add more water.)

Add milk/flour slurry to soup, stirring to blend into liquid, and then continuing to stir while the broth thickens.
Chop the chicken breast.
Return chicken to pot.
Add:
2/3 cup shredded sharp cheddar.

Stir till cheese melts, and then serve.

Tweezers

Over the last decade or so, I have given up on trying to remove splinters with a pair of tweezers. They just never worked. Instead, I would use a very sharp needle from the doctor to cut the skin over the splinter, and then I'd use the needle to lift out the splinter or scrape it out. It worked just fine ... assuming the splinter didn't go too far down in, but was at least partially horizontal under the skin.

This weekend Gary got a doozy of a splinter, way down deep in his hand, in a place that was easily irritated and made it hard for him to do his job on the computer. We were thinking he'd probably have to go to Urgent Care to have this blasted splinter removed. Instead, while on a run to Walgreens to buy more splints for the torn tendons in his finger, he checked for expensive tweezers. They had some! This is so awesome! You can actually buy tweezers that work, and that can be sharpened so that the points will always meet each other and pinch.

I feel dumb dumb dumb getting all excited about something as piddly as tweezers. But, wow!, it saved us a trip to the doctor; finding a tool that actually does what it's supposed to do is a great find! Especially when it prevents a co-pay to ER.

Isaac

In Thursday Bible class, Pastor was talking about the Father giving His Son, and so he brought up the ultimate icon of that: Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. As he was quoting from the pertinent part of Genesis 22, I noticed that God told Abraham to offer Isaac as a burnt offering.

Having just gone through the Leviticus stories the previous week or two in Matins, I was recalling all the different kinds of sacrifices: peace offerings, sin offerings, burnt offerings, thank offerings, wave offerings, etc. I had never before noticed that God connected Isaac with the label of a particular offering; I just thought Abraham had been told to sacrifice his son, his only son whom he loved. I needed to run back to Leviticus and look to see what were the unique features of the burnt offering.

Just in case you haven't thought of it before, I want to point out that there are LOTS (lots lots lots!!!) of similarities between the story of Isaac and the story of Jesus. Three days. He carried the wood that would be used for his own sacrifice. He trusted his father. Mount Moriah. Left the followers behind. "God will provide for Himself the ram for the burnt offering." And so much more. Suffice it to say that when we look at Isaac, we get a real good peek-ahead picture of Jesus on the cross.

But the point new to me this week was the burnt offering. Burnt offerings were a voluntary offering. And they were one where the sinner laid hands on the animal to transfer the guilt of sin to the animal which was to be sacrificed. So in this way too -- the particular variety of sacrifice -- Isaac looked like Jesus.

Beautiful Calendar of the Christian Year

It's probably not big enough to note all the doctors appointments, kids' piano lessons, and family reunions, but it's still a great calendar! The Fellowship of St James distributes an 11x17" calendar with a seasonally-appropriate biblical engraving, as well as noting a huge variety of feast days (both East and West dates notes) and saints days. Also on the calendar are quotes from church fathers and other enjoyable tidbits. The 2009 calendars are available now. Go and check 'em out.

Hogan's Heroes

One of us here is a total Hogan's Heroes fan (although she does prefer Beaver even more). One of the boys discovered something interesting. The main German characters in Hogan's Heroes were Jews. The actors who played Klink and Schultz were Jews who escaped Europe. The Gestapo major (Hochstetter) was an American Jew. The general (Burkhalter) was a Jew who was captured and beaten by the Gestapo and then interred for the duration of the war.

In addition to the Germans, the actor who played LeBeau (the Frenchman) was really a Jew from Paris who spent nearly three years in concentration camps.

These men were actors. They played parts. They earned money for their families by holding down a job in a comedy. But what amazes me is how much the world has changed in the last 40 years: can you even imagine a similar situation occurring today?

Shower

Although we didn't have as many people riding along with us as we'd originally hoped, two of my daughters and I headed off to Indiana this weekend for the other daughter's baby shower. Friday evening we hung out with Katie and Nathan. On Saturday Jane hosted a lovely party, and afterward we hung around and visited with Caseys longer than I probably should've. (It's so good to see them!!) It would've been a great chance to stay longer and see more friends on Monday, but Rachel and I have this "thing" where we really like our hubbies and wanted to grab some time with them this weekend before we roll into another week of busyness where husbands have virtually no time for anything other than work and sleep. At least Matt is done with his regular surgery rotation, and is now assigned to vascular surgery, which means 12-hour days instead of 14-hour days. Rachel is rejoicing! And gee, I thought I didn't see Gary; whew, I have it easy in comparison.

What We Eat

In the past week or two, we've been watching a video series for school. Burt Wolf's What We Eat has 13 half-hour segments on food, how it's impacted history, science, culture, etc. Andrew complained a bit about some of the evolutionary mindset, but the political correctness isn't bad as PBS shows go.

The homeschool catalog in which I saw the video-series charged a mere $190 for the series. I obviously was going to the library! Only one copy existed in the statewide library catalog, but we were allowed to interlibrary loan it. However I saw today that Amazon carries the series for about $85, and Burt Wolf's website charges $25. For $25, the series is definitely worth it. This series reminds me somewhat of several of Richard Blunt's articles in Backwoods Home about food's impact on economies and history and cultures.

There was discussion in the series about how wheat and grapes were grown in the New World because of the Catholics' need for the Sacrament.

We learned how jam became popular after sugar's refinement became common. This happened about the same time as the Industrial Revolution. The women were working in the factory and were not home to prepare food for the children. Jam was something that did not require the wee children (home alone) to cook with fire or use knives. It also allowed the workers to have something that didn't take prep-work for dinner.

There was need in France at one point to decrease the peasants' dependence upon wheat as their most staple food. Potatoes were newly available after having been brought over from the Americas, but had not been well received. One scientist decided to plant a large plot of potatoes; he set plenty of guards around the field day and night. What was going on in the field was kept somewhat secret -- at least secret enough to develop interest among onlookers. When it was time to harvest the field, the peasants rushed in, stole as many potatoes as they could get their hands on, took them home, and planted them for themselves. And thus the peasants were enticed into treasuring a food that they had earlier rejected.

Peanuts were the food of the poor people. When the po-folks went to a show, they would, of course, take the cheap seats in the back or in the balcony and snack on peanuts. Thus the term "the peanut gallery."

When Columbus set sail, looking for the Spice Islands, one of the things he was sent to fetch was pepper -- black pepper, the spice. Instead, the natives introduced him to this plant-thing that had a hot flavor to it. He called it "pepper," so he had indeed found "pepper" for enhancing their food.

And these are just a few of the interesting bits gleaned from "What We Eat."

Mallet Finger

There was a play-time at work on Tuesday. Gary's team played kickball against another team. There were dunk-tanks and a barbecue. Gary came home with a sore finger, thinking he must have jammed it. But it didn't have the swelling of a jammed finger. On the third day he went to the doctor. He has "mallet finger" now because of torn tendons around his knuckle. The treatment is splinting it 24/7, because any bending of his finger will pull the tendons away from where they're reattaching, and they'll have to start all over with the healing.

At least he saw the doctor and found out about the treatment. The doctor said that most people will wait for about two weeks for this problem to get better on its own (thinking that it must just be a jammed finger) and then finally go see the doctor. But if you wait that long, the only way to correct the problem is with surgery, or to live with a crippled finger. The six weeks of splint is going to be majorly inconvenient, but at least that's all he's going to have to put up with. I imagine he'll get very good at using his mouse left-handedly. And he thinks he may have to buy velcro-closed shoes for the interim.

He says the splint has helped with the pain too. When we changed the bandage this evening, taking off the splint just to dry it was enough to set him grimacing again.

Flicka

We heard about a good, wholesome horse story that sounded like a movie appropriate for the whole family. In many ways it was. No language, no violence, no sex. An intact family. Set in the West, with lots of outdoorsy activity and scenery. Not sure why it rated a "PG" instead of a "G."

The only thing that bugged me was something about the heroine's attitude toward her father, and how a perfectly decent father was made out to be too insensitive. I've heard people complain that, in the fifth Harry Potter book, Harry was so whiny and self-centered and full of teen-angst, and thought everybody was against him. But that was NOTHIN' in comparison to the heroine in Flicka. Thing is, in Flicka the heroine was held up as wild (a good thing, apparently) and strong/stubborn and self-determined and all that jazz, whereas Harry Potter's somewhat similar qualities were seen as a bad thing.

Green Homeschooling

Just another reason to homeschool: to save the environment.

Our county's recycling propoganda flyer came out today. We are told that the average school-age child generates 67 pounds of garbage per year just from the disposable items in his school lunches. The paper suggested using tupperware containers, cloth napkins, and other ways to cut down on lunch-time trash.

So when I get a block of cheddar out of the fridge, cut it with a knife, and let people munch, I have helped to SAVE the world by not buying individually wrapped cheese sticks. Or when I cook up a pot of rice and put it on ceramic plates and have the children eat it with silverware, then I am SAVING the world because I didn't send them to school with a yogurt cup, a plastic spoon, a paper napkin, and a Twinkie wrapped in plastic.

Good for me. ;-)

Hymn Greeting Cards

I saw these greeting cards at the bookstore when I dropped Paul off at Bethany Lutheran College. They are beautiful, and not very expensive (as cards go). They really grabbed the attention of this hymn addict, because the cover of all these cards is a calligraphied hymn stanza. And, oh, the choice of hymns! I'll put up some pictures of cards later, but for anybody who would like more information right away about "Hymns in My Heart greeting cards," you can request an order form from:
normanmadson at yahoo-dot-com

(Of course, when emailing him, you will have to use the @-sign and the period, as in a normal email address. Writing the edress this way will hopefully help protect Mr Madson from getting too much spam by web-robots who hunt for email addresses on the internet.)

Paul's Clep

And more rejoicing on the clep-front. Paul took the Western Civ I test today, and scored a 68! Wow! With his cleps, a few credits that he took at the local junior college, and taking 16 hours per semester instead of 15, he can knock a semester off his college career. That's a lot of tuition money saved!

Also, since I haven't seen anything on his blog recently, I am taking the liberty to report to grandmas and siblings that his roommate transferred to a different college, and so Paul has his own room now. He is in Choraliers which is the group that puts on the annual musical theatre production. He is also running for student senate.

Too bad homeschooled kids aren't socialized. [snicker giggle guffaw]

Antichrist

Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God. And this is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard was coming, and is now already in the world. (1 John 4:2-3)

I was taught in religion classes in college that our confessions teach that the papacy is the antichrist. I always had a hard time with that, knowing many Roman Catholics who are Christians. And I heard so many of the things the Pope said, and how Christian it sounded. It was explained to me in oh-so-many ways how it is true that the papacy is the antichrist even if the pope himself is a true Christian. Okay, this may be obvious to lots of folks, but it never really made sense to me.

As we have been studying 1 John during Thursday morning Bible class these past months, one thing Pastor has been pointing out is that "the spirit of antichrist" is the doctrine of works-righteousness, in all its many forms. True doctrine is that God took on human flesh, bore our sin, and fully atoned for our rebellion and errors, giving us His holiness, and that our standing before God is entirely in what He has done on our behalf.

I asked about the people who believe that Jesus came in the flesh, was a "good teacher," but was not God. The answer was that "Jesus Christ" means something. It means "Yahweh is salvation" and it reminds us of all the promises of the Anointed One throughout the Old Testament, and who He was, and what He would accomplish. Thus "Jesus Christ has come in the flesh" isn't just about a historical figure, but about the eternal God becoming man so that He might bear the cross so that we don't have to.

Pastor pointed out that, at the time the confessions were written, the papacy had declared Luther's teaching anathema (damnable). The papacy said that anyone who believed that he stood before God, righteous and holy and blameless, fully on account of Christ's death and His blood shed, was going to hell for such a belief. Well, uh, that was kinda sorta "against Christ" (antichrist) doncha think?

And yet, the teaching that causes us to look to our own works, our own goodness, our own merits before God, that teaching was present in the early church prior to the existence of a papacy, and that teaching is present now [gasp] even among us. It is the very essence of the sinful nature, and must "daily be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires."

I don't know about you, but seeing "antichrist" as being works-righteousness (instead of only as the papacy) wraps up a lot of loose ends for me.

Great Faith

Jesus said to the Canaanite woman, "Great is your faith" (Matthew 15:28).

From 1 Corinthians 10: "But God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape that you may be able to bear it."

Do you ever think that God just doesn't have a very good grasp of what you are able to bear? Surely He is overestimating what I can bear! (And yet, even as I question His wisdom in this area, it is nevertheless true that He provides the absolution, which is the way of escape.)

But back a few weeks ago, Pastor said something in the sermon that I had not considered before. How did Jesus know the greatness of the Canaanite woman's faith? It wasn't because He is omniscient and could thus "know" something by observing the woman's faith, something we mere mortals cannot observe. He knew her faith because He created it, He implanted it in her, He sustained it. That's why He knew what it was. So it's not a matter of measuring how big my faith is (with corresponding pats on the backs or "woe-is-me"). It's not about how much bigger I can get my faith to be. But it's entirely what Jesus has done and given and provided.

I believe that I cannot ... believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to Him. But the Holy Ghost has called me ... and kept me in the true faith!

Appearance Matters

I am practical. I do not do froo-froo. I like to see beautiful flower gardens and lovely homes. I can appreciate someone's being well-dressed and well-coiffed. A well-set table (at somebody's else's home) is something I can oooh and ahhh over. But I am not adept at making things nice and pretty. Especially when it comes to government expenditures, I hate to see money "wasted" on something like interior decorating or great architecture.

I have long been rethinking my perspective on this when it comes to churchly matters. But recently I have begun rethinking it with regard to other buildings too.

The hospital in my home town recently opened a new cancer center. It is gorgeous. The space is bright and open and airy. There is plenty of natural sunlight. There are patios and fireplaces. There are comfortable chairs. There are stations for coffee and pastries. The woodwork is beautiful. There are flowers and good artwork. There is an assortment of books and puzzles and games to pass the time.

The atmosphere in the new building (just from the way the building is constructed and decorated) is so cheery and upbeat that it really seems to make the whole experience of being treated for cancer more pleasant. And that has GOT to be worth something!!!

Worksheets

For the first four kids, we barely used any worksheets. We would buy some workbooks occasionally, but most pages went unused due to the kids' catching on to the concept before using up the practice-pages.

But now I have a kid who needs much more practice on many concepts than can be found in a workbook. Or in several workbooks. I tried hunting websites for worksheets I can print out. What I'm finding is that there are worksheets out there, but they don't provide exactly the practice we are in need of. And it takes so blasted long to hunt through all those websites, and all the different worksheets on the sites.

So this evening I sat down with blank paper and a Sharpie marker, and made up a week's worth of math problems for Maggie. I hate doing that, but it doesn't seem there's much choice. The other thing I'm going to have to do is to sort through all those old hand-me-down workbooks and find the appropos pages to dish out to Maggie.

No-Wax Floors

No-wax floors are a lie perpetrated by flooring manufacturers. I have not been able to get the kitchen floor clean in the new house. We mop, and the next day it's filthy. Finally I decided to give it a few coats of floor wax. Y'know, the good old-fashioned kind that's supposed to go on tile. And suddenly it is so much easier to sweep the floor!

Blog Awards

Recently (spoken by a woman who is aging rapidly and thus time is flying past!) two friends included me in their lists of blog awards. At the time that Paula gave me the "I Love You This Much" award and when Jane gave me the "Brillante Weblog Premio" award, I was overwhelmed with stuff to do, couldn't think about hunting up people upon whom to bestow the award next, and couldn't remember how to cut-n-paste the pictures of the awards onto my blog. So my apologies to you for not keeping up with the program. Well, I decided that today was the day to say THANK YOU to them, and that I am most honored, and that you guys already pegged many of the people upon whom I would pass on the honor,
... and even though I tried, I still can't figure out how to put those pictures on my blog. All I get is this funny little flat rectangle that has a link to the pictures. So I gave up trying to print the award.  Oh well, I NEVER claimed to be technologically savvy.

Psalm 31:3

For You are my rock and my fortress;
therefore, for Your name's sake,
lead me and guide me.

Think about that. Do rocks move? Isn't a fortress known for its stability? So what is this thing about THEREFORE lead me and guide me? Rocks and fortresses are not known for their ability to guide, but to sit in one place.

Our recent Bible stories are from Numbers. Yesterday's story was the instructions to follow where the pillar of fire/cloud went. Today's story told how the children of Israel finally left Sinai after their year camping there, to head out to the Promised Land. (We see in Numbers 10:11 how God let them hang around until the end of the belated Passover celebration for the guys who couldn't celebrate it with the rest of the nation due to their uncleanness.) So with all these stories about the Israelites' sojourn, combined with this weird line from Psalm 31, we have to look at 1 Corinthians 10: For they drank of the spiritual Rock that followed them, and that Rock was Christ. Jesus was with them in the wilderness. Likewise, He is with us, a rock to lead and guide us (however odd that imagery may be if'n we don't know our Old Testament stories).

Pastor had a different point this morning, however. He was comparing the Israelites' sojourn with ours. Jesus talked about taking up our cross and following him. We follow where He leads. (And notice that when the Israelites headed out, the standard, or ensign, of the tribe of Judah --the tribe of the Messiah-- was what went first. Led on their way by this triumphant sign, the hosts of God in conquering ranks combine. Lift high the cross....)

Oh, I'm a Lumberjack and I'm Okay...

Well, at least, I'm okay now.

Tomorrow morning I will wake up with every muscle in my body screaming, "You are too OLD for this! Old. OLD. Old. Middle-aged women on the downhill slope ought not be ought there playing lumberjack all day long!"

Andrew and I were the primary wielders of the chainsaw:
For some reason, I could not get the machine to start for me; it was hard to yank the starter-cord. But Andrew could make the machine work. He also figured out how to put the chain back when I knocked it off, and taught me how to fix the chain too. Impressive, eh?

Here is the poor naked plum tree. It looks pretty pitiful, and even worse in this photo than it looks in real life. You can see what it used to look like when it was full and lush. But the tree was so big that the plums couldn't be reached for harvest. And the tree was too lush, putting more energy into leaves than into fruit. So after years of neglect, it needed some serious pruning. I hope it lives through the trauma. If not, we plant some dwarf fruit trees in its place.
Off to the left, you can see part of the small stack of firewood that was salvaged from the brush pile.

And below we see the pile awaiting the nice man from the township who will be coming through with his chipper/mulcher machine in about five weeks. We have here the two hugely overgrown shrubs from the north end of the house, the top of the cherry tree that was pruned, the top of the plum tree, and the oddly-shaped red pine that Andrew took down a couple of weeks ago. Philip and Maggie did a whole lot of the branch-dragging and yard-raking to clean up the cutting messes the other two of us made.



My souvenir of the day is, well,... uh,... "freckles." After taking such large branches off the plum tree, I got out the aerosol can of pruning sealant. But for one spot, I had put the ladder in the exact wrong place. A downwind spot from where I was spraying. I now have speckled feet, speckled face, speckled neck, and speckled shirt. But my upper arms are a crack-up; I look like a heavily peppered piece o' roast. I done been tarred. (No feathers, though.) After bathing, I still am heavily speckled, but I must be somewhat cleaner since the bottom of the tub looked like it, too, had been well seasoned with ground black pepper!

Cloudy Days

Shakespeare.
Henry IV, part 1.
Act 1, scene 2, lines 205-210.

Prince Hal is giving examples of how we have greater appreciation for blessings when we have to forego them temporarily and then can enjoy their reinstatement. And thus Shakespeare unknowingly commented on Seasonal Affective Disorder:

The sun doth permit the base contagious clouds
to smother up his beauty from the world,
that, when he please again to be himself,
being wanted, he may be more wondered at,
by breaking through the foul and ugly mists
of vapors that did seem to strangle him.

Although, honestly, I personally think it might be okay if I enjoyed the sun while taking it for granted, and not having to rejoice in its return because, after all, it'd been there all along.... Now, really, what would be so bad about that?

Boys' News

Philip had an oops with the razor Monday. The attachment on the end of the beard-trimmer was not the one he thought it was. Once you cut a hole in your beard, the rest of it kinda sorta has to go. So he is currently naked-chinned. He also had a job interview for something that sounds really good; he'll hear about the hiring decision within a week.

Paul took his math CLEP and passed with an impressive 58! (On a test-scale of 20 to 80, fifty is enough to get college credit.) Much rejoicing commenced when we found that message on the answering machine. He has now met his college math requirements and earned 3 more credits. I luv luv luv the math book we use for Algebra 2. Hooray for Paul's hard work in math this summer!

Long Day

Gone 12 hours. Twelve good hours. But still tiring.

Gary took a day off to go with us to see Henry IV. We were happy to hear that Henry V will be playing next summer.
David was surprised by how much Maggie had grown since last summer.

Some interesting things came up in the talk-back about how APT doesn't like to play the plays to tell you what to think about the conclusion. David was saying how it's so easy to force a viewpoint on the audience, and that most companies choose to go that route. But APT likes to leave things more open-ended, so that you get something out of the play that is unique to you and your perspective. Maybe that's why I like their renditions of Shakespeare so much more than other companies' versions; and maybe that's why their plays seem so "Lutheran" to me.

Rachel, did you know Tracy is pregnant? She looks smaller than Katie, but is due sooner. Hey, I guess that's what height does for you. :)

We stopped on the way home and ate the special-of-the-month at Olive Garden. I loved the caprese and Mr Birthday-Boy loved the asiago-garlic alfredo.

The southwest corner of Wisconsin is one of the most beautiful places in the world. If only there were a church nearby that I wanted to attend, it would be a dream place to live.

On the drive over to Spring Green, we passed the Radisson that we stayed at last year (compliments of many dear friends) so that we could shower when we were without our septic system. Seeing the building reminded me of all those loved ones who were so encouraging and supportive during that time.

As thought-provoking as the play was, as lovely as the weather was, as great as the day was, it made me and Gary realize how much we miss being together, and how seldom we see each other and spend time together like we did today. That's the difficult part of the fun-times; it always makes us long for more. More time with each other. Or more time with Tammy's family. More time with Erin's family. More time with Kathy and Laura, or Mom and Dad, or the folks in Indiana. But life just keeps getting in the way of our socializing!

On the way back home, we made a quick stop at the Madison Woodmans. Can't hardly drive by a Woodmans without stopping to pick up a few (or many!) items. We also stopped at Target and picked up a 26" bike for Maggie. The one we chose at the local Target was not quiiite well-constructed, and I wanted to visit a store in another town to buy one that was well-built. So we have high hopes that she will now be able to keep up more easily when we ride to town.

Mamma Mia

With Rachel working at a theatre, we get occasional $1 passes, and thus have been seeing a lot more movies than at any time before in our married life ... even though finding the time to get to a theatre is even harder than paying for it. Anyway, with rain preventing Gary from working on the deck, and with soon-to-expire $1 passes, last week we went to see the Abba-music movie.

It was a cheery and energetic movie. It had Abba songs that I remember enjoying from long ago. But somehow it just wasn't a happy movie. The plot is basically that the mom and daughter were eeking out a living together without the dad. Mom didn't know which man the dad was. Daughter invited all three possible dads to her wedding so that she could figure out which man was her dad. Somehow, as we made our way through the movie, I thought the point was that it was not okay to be raised without your dad, and that the daughter wanted to know her dad, AND to have something better for her own children. One dad didn't want the girl wasting her life and her talents by settling down with a husband. The mom didn't want that either: the daughter had better things to do.

The movie concluded with all parties resolving that it's just fine if we don't know who her dad is, and all the men will just share the dad-ness. And like in Titanic, another conclusion was that the one dad had never been happy with his wife because he was always pining over the girl of his dreams (the mom in this story). And another conclusion was that one of the dads discovered he was actually gay. AND another revolting conclusion was that the girl finally came to her senses, called off the wedding, and decided to just shack up with her honey while they traveled the world.

Okay, you youngsters who liked this movie for the music... WHY does this plot not make you want to throw rotten tomatoes at the screen? Why can the fun music be strong enough to accept this wretched plot?

I think this proves me to be an old fogey.
But I want my 20-something Christian friends to be old-fogeyish that way too.

Yom Kippur

It's late this year. Still weeks away. Usually it's in the second half of September. I'm thinking about this because our Bible story for Friday was Leviticus 16, the Day of Atonement.

Pastor preached in chapel on Friday how the priests pointed to the coming of Jesus, and how the priestly garments pointed to Jesus, and how the mercy seat showed the Old Testament believers something about Jesus, and how the tabernacle foreshadowed Jesus, and how the altar and the sacrifices all pointed to Jesus. All those things find their fulfillment in the cross of Christ. None of them was the real thing, the ultimate thing, in itself. And that's why atonement had to be made, not only for the people and their sins, but also for the altar and the Holy Place.

And that's why I find it lusciously interesting that the Feast of the Holy Cross (September 14) is celebrated right about the same time of year as Yom Kippur was.

And Even More Ludicrous

The Obama campaign is deeply distressed over the mean, vicious, dirty, low-down, scummy lies that the McCain campaign is spreading. Whatever will they do about these ads with the outright lies?

What lies?

I followed hot-links. I hunted online. I googled. Couldn't find the "lies." Finally I found something. The mean terrible lie that the McCain campaign is spreading is that Obama's comment about "putting lipstick on a pig" was a jab at Palin. Well, silly! That comment had absolutely nothing to do with Palin. It wasn't a sexist comment. It wasn't a slur toward her.

ROFLOL!!!!!!

This is less disjointed than it will first appear.

Claire (all of a whoppin' age 5 at the time) told her mommy a couple of months ago that, one day, she just pretended she was outgoing instead of shy, and then she was able to talk to some people she didn't know very well and be nicely friendly.

Due to some pain, I have barely jogged at all in the last 5-6 weeks. One morning I just had to get out and get some exercise and be forced into some really deep breathing. About a half-mile around the corner was a big tent in a neighbor's yard, and lots of flags, and decorated tables, and porta-potties, and a cool blow-up Moonwalk toy. The sign said, "Welcome Home, Sean!" It was obviously for a soldier returned home, and the celebration would be commencing later in the day.

In looking for employment, frequently my son and son-in-law have not made it to the top of the list. Veterans and minorities take priority over guys like my fellas. Sometimes that bothered me.

But that day, as I jogged beyond Sean's home, I thought about what he'd done. (Just to be clear, I don't know him. I don't know his parents. I don't know where he fought. But he was a soldier.) I thought about Rueben over there too, almost ready to come home after his long stint of duty, and then recalled yet again. I thought about Melody's sons. And there's Alex and Lynn and JJ's brother and so many others.

Our country was attacked on our own soil seven years ago. It hasn't happened since. We don't live in a war zone. That lovely Saturday I was out jogging in shorts. I wasn't wearing a burkha. I wasn't being shot at. I wasn't even passing by armed soldiers who kept the enemy at bay. I knew there would be food for lunch; enemy soldiers weren't raiding my pantry and my garden. I knew my church building was still standing, whole and undefiled, with the pastor free to preach the next day.

Soldiers give us that freedom.

They sacrifice their comfortable bedrooms, their time with family, their good home-cooked meals, the joys of their local communities. They sacrifice those things to give us the freedom to go to a movie, or hold down a job, or teach our children the catechism, or go jogging on a pretty Saturday morning.

If it weren't for the soldiers who protect us, it's very likely that many of our jobs would become non-existent. Maybe it's not so bad after all to allow that the ones who protected our homes and our jobs and our farms and our businesses --and our lives-- be the ones who are first-hired at those farms and businesses.

For those of you with kids, remember how great it was/is when a stranger came up to you in a restaurant and complimented you on your children's behavior? That message sticks with you for a long time. Even decades. That compliment is a quiet little voice in the back of your mind, encouraging you to go on and continue doing the right thing, disciplining those children, when you'd rather be lazy. And it reminds you how wonderfully the rest of the world sees this child of yours whom you know to be not quiiiite perfect.

I figured Sean or his parents should hear the "thank you" to him that was rattling around in my mind.

I remembered Claire's wise discovery. Just pretend you're not shy. So I stopped and spoke briefly with the family while they were prepping for all the company that would descend upon them later to celebrate Sean's homecoming.

When they're surrounded by the media telling them their son's sacrifice was worthless, I hope they remember my "thank you" just like Gary and I remember the stranger at the truck stop who purchased stuff animals for our wee kids and who thanked us for the job we were doing raising this brood. I hope there were lots of other people who have said thank-you to Sean and his family.

And thank you to Rueben and Annetta and Ralph.
And thank you to Matthew and Ethan and Jay and Melody and John.
And thank you to Liesl for giving up Lynn for those months.
And thank you the Hammonds.
And thank you to all those others, too many to list.



This You-Tube video has been flying all over the blogosphere. You've probably seen it. But if not, check out this soldier's message.
And why is it that Lee Greenwood always makes me cry?...

Next Obama Shocker

The ad came out on Friday. McCain "admits he still doesn't know how to use a computer, can't send an e-mail,..." The AP story about the ad says, "McCain has said he relies on his wife and staff to work the computer for him and that he doesn't use e-mail." And the reason he can't use the internet or send an email is because of the damage to his body, the injuries to his joints, the trauma he sustained when he was a P.O.W.

So, in essence, Obama is mocking McCain for having been repeatedly beaten up by the enemy when he was captured during the war. McCain could've spared himself the beatings, but his honor prevented him from putting himself first and hurting his fellow-soldiers. And now McCain is being mocked for his injuries???

This is just absolutely stunning. I mean, would Obama mock a soldier returned from Iraq for having lost his leg in battle? Would Obama mock a fire-fighter for burn-scars that he wears for having rescued a child from a burning building?

Because this is the exact same thing.
I keep thinking that I can't be shocked any more by the next low-down dirty trick. I keep thinking that they've gone as low as they can go. And yet, they keep coming up with new ones.

Gnosticism

Being in 1 John 4 for Bible class right now, gnosticism came up. (For those who don't like to follow links, gnosticism is a belief in gnosis, that is, knowing, and finds no value in the material world. Think of scientology as a modern example.)

What are God's first words in the Bible? "Let there be..." and there was, and God called it good.

So not only do the gnostics reject Christ's incarnation. But they start at the very beginning, taking issue with the primeval word: "and it was good."

Definition of Pietism

Somebody asked about pietism in Bible class the other day. Pastor explained it in many and various ways -- all of them very good. But I am a bear of very little brain; I think in soundbites. I need something less lofty to think on, something tight and succinct to puzzle over (even though I myself am never succinct!). And here's what I figured out once-upon-a-time.

Communism is a belief that we all should share everything in common.

Environmentalism is a belief in the importance of the environment. And not just that it is important (as I believe it is) but that the environment is the most important thing we must guard and protect and promote.

Consumerism is a lifestyle that puts consuming consumer-goods near the top of one's priorities. We gotta keep buying buying buying or else ... uhhh... or else the economy will fall apart, or else we will "lose" because we have fewer toys than the next guy, or whatever.

Ism is a belief in something, a trust in something.

Piety is a good thing. It is good to pray and to attend church and to meditate on the psalms and to do good works for the neighbor. Those are habits that flow out of the heart and life of a pious and devout person.

Pietism is a belief or trust in piety.

Piety is good. But when the person begins to promote piety even more than he promotes the forgiveness of sins bought by Jesus' atonement, then the piety has morphed into pietism. When the Christian's eyes are focused on his own piety (or worse yet, his neighbor's piety) rather than focusing on Christ's blood-bought redemption of sinners, pietism has trumped the Gospel.

And that is not a safe place to be.

(Problem is, when someone speaks against pietism, many Christians "hear" him speaking against piety. That's not only sad, but also sometimes hits us where we don't want to even begin to see subtle pietism in our own hearts. Here too, the call to repentance is necessary, and God's gift of the Holy Absolution is the only way to make faith right and to increase true piety.)

Some Little Lessons

My friend Ed was asking about cantaloupes a couple of weeks ago. He's got a lot. Mine appeared to be doing well. Seems to be a great year for cantaloupe. But in the conversation, I happened to mention my small miniature plot of so-called garden. When I said that I had planted both cantaloupe and cucumbers in this tiny patch, Ed's eyebrows went up. He went on to tell me how he'd done the same thing one year, and the flowers of both vines cross-pollinated each other. Once he said it, it made perfect sense: the vines are similar, the seeds are nearly identical, and the flowers look very much alike to me. So a little more time passed. We harvested more cucumbers. We are watching the melons grow and ripen. But the other day I found these:
I guess we did cross-pollinate a few. Fat fat things, they are. And funky tasting. Not terrible, but nothing I want to use in anyplace where I'd normally put either cukes nor melons.


Somebody has been wanting to try beer-butt chicken for a long time. I seldom buy whole chickens, though. This week, leg quarters of Smart Chicken were unavailable, so I bought a whole bird. Here's our opportunity to try that recipe.
I almost think she looks like she's kneeling in prayer, albeit minus her little head... Anyway, the chicken was very good. But not good enough to warrant the mess of the beer can nor the costly amount of butter used in the recipe. Next time I'd just as soon crock-pot the birdie.


Men who build Belegarth swords must know how to sew. Andrew got a lesson today in deciding how much fabric, what order to piece it together in, and how to run the handy-dandy sewing machine. (Maybe we should've looked online before we started to wing it!) His weapons turned out lovely!

Sensenbrenner's Opponent

Knowing I would be out of town on primary day, I had requested an absentee ballot. When the ballot arrived, the only contested election on the whole page (for any party) was the primary for congressman. In Wisconsin we don't have to declare an allegiance to a political party; we are free to vote in any primary, but only one party per election day. I dutifully looked up information on the two candidates. I immediately became suspicious when I saw a picture of the challenger; hair like that on a politician or on a pastor makes me nervous. (I know you agree, Mrs SK!) But I realized that I was stereotyping and that this attitude was completely unfair of me. I owed the candidate a fair look at his position, even if he does have executive-hair.

Then I found out he was running a "co-campaign" with someone from the other party. That sent up red flags. Not that I'm necessarily for or against either party. But what is a CO-CAMPAIGN? It sounded to me like a stunt, pure and simple.

Then I came out of church on Sunday to find a flyer from this fellow on my car's windshield. The same thing apparently happened at all LCMS churches in the congressional district. This flyer told me how we need more LCMS politicians. It told me that I should vote for this man because he is LCMS and works at the LCMS college my daughter and son-in-law attended. Like, those are credentials??? Does this man understand the doctrine of the two kingdoms? I figure anybody who tries to manipulate people this way is someone to be wary of in the future, even if he should espouse good positions on many policies.

But,
#1, this guy claimed to be "100% pro-life" and nevertheless said he supports embryonic stem cell research. I'd rather vote for a guy who was 90% pro-life and honest about it than one who claims to be 100% pro-life but is only 95% pro-life. #2, this guy had as part of his platform the problem of high gas prices, and his solution was to immediately stop imports of all foreign oil. Anybody who is that clueless about economic conditions of supply & demand really ought not be in public office. (C'mon, CUT a huge amount of the oil supply, and that's gonna be the solution to high gasoline prices? Somebody buy this fellow a copy of Penny Candy!)

There for a few moments I was worried that the pastor and/or elders had okayed this campaign literature endorsing a particular candidate. I was much relieved to find out that my church was on the right track after all, and that it was the candidate (or his campaign staff) who just assumed it would be acceptable to campaign in the church's parking lot without getting permission first.

Glory of the Lord

Today's Bible story was from Leviticus 9, the consecration of the priests. God told Moses to tell Aaron what to do, what to sacrifice, what to do with the blood, etc. "This is the thing which the Lord commanded you to do, and the glory of the Lord will appear to you." Pastor pointed out that the glory was seen in the sacrifices for atonement. Likewise, in John 13, Jesus says, "Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in Him" which is all about the immiment crucifixion.

Pastor also pointed out something else interesting from the story. Aaron was to put the blood of the sacrifice on the horns of the altar. What do we calls the "horns" of the altar? The corners. What is on the horns (or corners) of our altars? Those who have sewn altar linens or who work on altar guild know that there are little crosses embroidered on the fair linen, at the corners of the altar and in the center ...
the blood on the horns of our altar.


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Lots of socializing been going on in recent days. Laura has pictures of some of today's good times. It's going to take me some catch-up time (laundry, meals, errands, cleaning, etc) before I get to posting my pictures.