Before the Face of All People

As we studied Joel 3 in Bible class this week, one thing confused me.

God is speaking about judgment on the nations who persecute believers, the nations who reject His word, the nations who despise His grace. Even though God's people may appear to be downtrodden, the Lord will vindicate them in the end. He will bring His people back to the Promised Land. The thing that confused me was how the believers were supposed to know whether these promises in the prophets were something that would happen in time, with regard to the physical land between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean, or if these prophecies would be fulfilled only at the Last Day. After all, we reject the modern-day false prophets who are always promising us goodies in this life (and pretty darn soon, too, in pretty good abundance) as they preach a theology of glory with a focus on how God is going to make us healthy, wealthy, and wise.

As Pastor answered my question, he spoke about how God's people could know what the prophets meant (that is, how the physical land itself would need to be restored prior to the Messiah's birth, as well as how the main point was the restoration of creation and the Church through the sacrifice of the Messiah) only as they studied and meditated upon what the prophets preached. He said that, yes, these things were made known to all peoples, but that they weren't seen by all.

Simeon knew. (Not about the Babylonian captivity and the restoration of the Jews to the promised land. That was already history by Simeon's time. I mean he knew other things about which the prophets preached.) He meditated on what the prophets had taught. He prayed. He listened. The Holy Spirit enlightened him with His gifts, and sanctified and kept him in the true faith. Simeon prayed that he was ready to die when once he had taken the baby Jesus in his arms and had seen Thy salvation which Thou hadst prepared before the face of all peoples, a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel.

But so few see it. The blindness is great. Look at all the things Isaiah said about the people sitting in darkness, and the blindness that pervades the world. Look at all the miracles Jesus did to give sight to the blind -- not just so they could see the pretty clouds and pretty trees and their dear family members' faces, but the healing of blindness is more significantly that we can see
what the fathers most desired,
what the prophets' heart inspired,
what they longed for many a year.

When He
stands fulfilled in glory here,
God grant that our blindness be healed that we may see aright His glory in the Son of David.

Today's Laugh

Kari says these are quotes from Douglas Adams:

The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at and repair.

I'm spending a year dead for tax reasons.

Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?

It is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it... anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.

It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.

The knack of flying is learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

Hymn Greeting Cards

I've been meaning to post pictures of some of the greeting cards available from Hymns in My Heart. They are beautiful and priced quite nicely compared to cards in the store. And they are designed with hymn stanzas!!!!

While I was dawdling in further advertisements for these people (who are strangers to me) who have the fabulous cards, the creator's father set up a website to make it easier for people to see and order cards. It's definitely worth a look!

Joel 3:5

... because you have taken My silver and My gold,
and have carried into your temples My prized possessions.

Roger pointed something out in Bible class today. This verse is in the past tense. It was recorded by Joel around 250 years prior to the time when Babylon came into Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and carried off the gold and silver. But when God is speaking, it's in the past tense.

I find that fascinating. It fits so well with the understanding that Jesus' cross is the center of all the Bible, and that everything (before and after Him, in time) is affected by the pivotal event of all history ... because to God, it IS. God is not confined to seeing things as we do, always within the passage of time. For Him, there isn't some "waiting around" for things to happen.

2 Peter 3:8 With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

Baby Pictures

Approximately 5 weeks old:





I know those of you who are Facebook-friends with Katie have already seen these, but there's my mom who needs to see too.

Psalm 87

This psalm had always drawn my mind back to the hymn, "Glorious Things of You Are Spoken." What I'd always noticed before was the specialness of Zion.

But what is all this stuff about being born in Zion? Three times it says that.

I will make mention of Rahab and Babylon
to those who know Me.
Behold, o Philistia and Tyre, with Ethiopia:
"This one was born there."

And of Zion it will be said,
"This one and that one were born in her;
and the Most High Himself shall establish her."
The Lord will record,
when He registers the peoples:
"This one was born there."

Both the singers and the players on instruments say,
"All my springs are in you."


Somehow, some way, there must be something important about that "being born there." And interestingly enough, the psalm states that three times. Three. Such a trinitarian number.

But then there's that business about the Lord recording births in Zion. The Lord registers the people according to their birth in Jerusalem? What's up with that? Hmmmm. John clues us in (end of Revelation 20) that there is a Book of Life, and anyone whose name is not found written in the Book of Life will be cast into the lake of fire.

Wait a minute. Birth!
Unless one is born again,
he cannot enter the kingdom of God.


Ah ha! So THAT is what the final verse of Psalm 87 has to do with the rest of it. The springs --the waters of Holy Baptism-- are in Zion, the Church. We who are born in the Church --born of water and the Spirit-- are recorded in the Book of Life. And this is the "glorious thing" about Zion!

Today's Laugh

passed along from Melody

Political Correctness is a doctrine fostered by a delusional, illogical liberal minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.

Psalm 89:32

What's the deal with the publishers of the NKJV? We were praying Psalm 89 this morning, and there was not ONE little star in the margin (y'know, those stars that indicate a messianic prophecy). This psalm is, like, messianic all over the place!

If his sons forsake My law
and do not walk in My judgments,
if they break My statutes
and do not keep My commandments,
then I will punish their transgression with the rod,
and their iniquity with stripes.

Hey, what's that about punishing their transgression? WHO is gonna be the one punished for God's people forsaking His law, anyway?


From Isaiah:
He was wounded for our transgressions.
He was bruised for our iniquities.
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him.
And by His stripes we are healed.

Roof Raking

Up on the housetop Grandpa paused,
not with hammer, wrench, or saws,
but with a rake to move the snow.
He wants to make the ice-dams GO.

Down on the ground Grandma sees him.
She groans, "There he goes again!
I sure wish he would not do that.
What if he falls and goes kersplat?"


So here ya go, Mom. Here is a picture of my roof rake. It's aluminum, so it's lightweight enough to wield way up there. And amazingly enough, you use it while standing on the ground.


PS: Note what's up above the roof. A sky. A sky that is BLUE. And notice the shadows of the tree and me and my roof-rake. That means there was sun for a while today!

Sad Kitties

Katie is getting more sleep. Long before she was born, Alia liked to be up and going and active and busy from bedtime to the middle of the night. Alia is beginning to learn that she is supposed to sleep at night and be awake during the day. This means that Alia's mommy gets to sleep a whole lot more. This is good for Alia's mommy.


Snow tally so far:
8" on December 1
3" worth of shoveling drifts on December 2
6" on December 3
3" on December 6
4" on December 9
2" worth of shoveling drifts on December 10

What does the 2' of snow mean? Well, for one, it means I'm tired. I'm really really tired, and I'm watching too much tv and blogging too much because we come in from the shoveling reading to crash.

But for another, 2' of snow means sad kitties. No bon-bons to hunt. No place to go potty. No warm spot to lie in a sunbeam. Good grief, your little paws can't even reach the ground -- the snow is too deep.

So the kitties are inside. Cranky and trapped. Rosie (the young one) is stir-crazy and wanting to chase string, attack the kitty-in-the-mirror, and run run run. Apparently she discovered sources of water outdoors because now that she's stuck inside she is back to her old ways of begging persistently for water faucets to be turned on for fresh water. Athena (the old cat) is hungry (no bon-bons) and growly and altogether perturbed. With indoor kitties we have to be cleaning the litter box and we have to be feeding them more kibble.

BUT I found the silver lining! When kitties are stuck indoors 24/7, they cannot go out at night. And come in at night. And go out at night. And come in at night. Man oh man, I'm getting some good solid sleep, with no beggar pawing gently at my face, "Hey, open the door, I need to find a snack rid you of mammalian pests."

I know it's not the same as the rest Katie is rejoicing to have, but I am sharing her relief in a small way.

Today's Laugh

Erin told me about a church-sign she saw.


Put Christ back in X-mas.

Come, Lord Jesus

I'm not in the mood for Christmas and hanging up lights and finding a place in the [crowded] new house for a Christmas tree. Oh, and doing the grocery shopping is about all the crowd-fighting and money-spending I can handle; I don't want to do gift shopping too.

And it's been snowing and cloudy a lot.

So there is something absolutely wonderful and comforting about the versicles for Advent.

Every morning at Matins we pray:
Praise to You, O Christ, King who comes to save us.

And then Pastor proclaims,
Behold, the Lord comes to save us.
And we respond,
Oh, come, let us worship Him (and continue with the Venite).

And nearly every day,
at the beginning of Evening Prayer,
and at the start of the sermon or Bible class,
we pray,

The Spirit and the Church cry out,
Come, Lord Jesus.
All those who await His appearance pray,
Come, Lord Jesus.
The whole creation pleads,
Come, Lord Jesus.



This is the Christmas preparation that I can handle.

Today's Laugh

From Pastor Colgrove:

The real conclusion to be reached from all the scientific studies on nutrition:

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.



Therefore, eat and drink what you like.
Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

Reason for Disaster

Today's Bible story was about Zachariah in the temple, conducting the liturgy, praying at the hour of incense, confessing sin. Pastor started us off in Daniel 9 to review what the priests were praying for, what the confession sounded like, how they approached God. Daniel was confessing the sins of Israel, how they had transgressed God's law, and he said in verse 12, And He has confirmed His words, which He spoke against us and against our judges who judged us, by bringing upon us a great disaster.... As it is written in the Law of Moses, all this disaster has come upon us, yet we have not made our prayer before the Lord our God, that we might turn from our iniquities and understand Your truth.

Think about that for a minute. What if God had NOT sent the Amorites and the Philistines and the Assyrians and the Babylonians to overrun the Israelites?

In the Torah, God has said thus-and-such will happen if you transgress My law. So His people transgressed His law. If the results/consequences/punishments (or whatever you want to call them) had not come about, that would mean that God's word didn't pan out as He had said.

What would that mean with regard to His promises?

Think about that. Wow. I mean, well, there are reasons that God allows trouble to befall us -- so that we learn to depend upon Him, so that we do not continue in impenitence. But this too -- that we cannot depend upon the happy promises in God's word if some of the rest of His word is lacking in veracity.

Baby Pictures

Four weeks old:





Kewpie-doll hairdo:


Watching dinner-time:

Gingerbread House

Maggie has been yearning to make a gingerbread house, but it didn't look like it was likely to happen. It takes time to make all the parts. Last time we tackled the project, it cost a lot of money to buy all the different varieties of candy. But the other day, we were doing errands at Walmart and saw this kit for a gingerbread house. I splurged for the kit (which was actually much cheaper than doing it from scratch). Friday afternoon she built and assembled and decorated.





Pretty cute, eh?

Today's Laugh

From Kim in Kansas:

Living Wills

Last night, my wife and I were sitting in the living room and I said to her, "I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."

She got up, unplugged the TV, and threw out my beer.

Double for Her Sins

"Comfort, yes, comfort My people!" says your God.
"Speak comfort to Jerusalem,
and cry out to her that her warfare is ended,
that her iniquity is pardoned;
for she has received from the Lord's hand
double for all her sins." Isaiah 40

Received double what?

It always seemed to me that what you receive for sins is punishment, so she has received double punishment for her sins. Hmmm. That's comfort??? Not to my way of thinking. Well, maybe because she's been good-n-punished, there can't be any more punishment still waiting???

Pastor has told us in previous years that it is double grace. Okay. If he said so. Didn't make much sense to me though.

But today he talked about it more. We might think punishment is due a sinner. But God takes the punishment for our sins upon Himself, and then He dishes out forgiveness for sins. ("For your thoughts are not My thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," declares the Lord.)

And comfort IS the point of the passage. The end of her warfare --and the pardon of her iniquity-- is what the prophets are to speak to God's people. So the double is double grace, double forgiveness, double peace.

Pastor made the point that God's forgiveness is not "just" commensurate with our sin. It's not like He gives us as much grace/mercy as is needed to counterbalance our sin. No, He gives more. A super-abundance. Paul picks up on this notion in Romans 5: But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more.

Some Family Pictures

From the weekend of Alia's baptism:

Today's Laugh

Hyperbole is the BEST thing in the whole world!!!!



on a t-shirt pointed out by Rachel

Snow Piles

Two big snowfalls and one medium-sized snowfall, all this week. No wonder it seems like we haven't done anything but shovel for a long time. The thing that worries me is where the snow is going to go. It's the first week of December and these are the piles we currently have


We have been trying to throw the snow away from the edge of the driveway. We have been trying to push it further down the driveway before we clear it off, so that the piles in the corners don't get too high. But I keep thinking that I need to get out there, on the piles of snow, and start moving the piles more toward the middle of the yard. Cities have bulldozers and backhoes and dump trucks to move the snow out of town when there's no place else to put it. I have a shovel. I should start now, taking into account what's yet-to-come this winter. But after you shovel for hours to clear the driveway, it's easier to sit by the fire and watch tv and crash than it is to go out there and MOVE the piles of snow.

It's gonna be a long winter.

Anybody want to send some global warming to the piles of snow by my driveway?

Santa Punches Arius

December 6. The feast day of Nicholas, the bishop of Myra. Also known as St Nick's Day. Lots of Christians like to tell their children the true story of St Nick on this day. But the part of the story we just loved was told us by a friend from Rockford.

The [first] Council of Nicaea met in AD 325 to discuss the nature of the Son of God. Was Jesus of the same substance as the Father? Was He different? Was there a time when the Father existed but the Son didn't yet exist? Was Jesus divine? Exactly what is it that Christians confess about the Trinity and about the relationship of the persons within the Godhead?

The bishops cared about doctrine. They really cared. (We don't see that too often these days. We care more about not rocking the boat.) At one point in the debate, the heretic Arius could not be refrained from spouting his blasphemies. And Nicholas struck him. This was not okay with the other bishops. They didn't approve of hitting. So they kicked out the bishop from Myra. Legend has it that some of the Fathers received a vision that night which showed Nicholas to be in the right. So he was reinstated to his office and allowed back at the Council.

And through the Council, God gave us the Nicene Creed which confesses "I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, begotten of His Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made." But in the process of working out the Creed, Bishop Nicholas (aka St Nick, aka Santa) punched out Arius.

The fat guy in the red suit with the elves and reindeer doesn't have a story nearly as good as the real Nicholas.

Real men care about doctrine.
Real men defend true doctrine.
Santa was a real man!

Today's Laugh

If you don't find the following to be quite funny, you haven't raised kids yet or it's been so long that you forgot a lot of it in a haze of happy (and not altogether accurate) memories.


People are always on the lookout for a new diet. The trouble with most diets is that you don't get enough to eat (the starvation diet), you don't get enough variation (the liquid diet), or you go broke (the all-meat diet). Consequently, people tend to cheat on their diets or quit after three days. Well, now there's the new Toddler Miracle Diet. Over the years you may have noticed that most 1-year-olds are trim. Now the formula to their success is available to all in this new diet. You may want to consult your doctor before embarking on this diet, otherwise, you may wind
up with an appointment afterwards. Good luck!

DAY ONE
Breakfast: One scrambled egg, one piece of toast with grape jelly. Eat two bites of egg, using your fingers; dump the rest on the floor. Take one bite of toast, then smear the jelly over your face and clothes.
Lunch: Four crayons (any color), a handful of potato chips, and a glass of milk (three sips only, then spill the rest).
Dinner: A dry stick, two pennies, and a nickel; four sips of flat Sprite.
Bedtime snack: Throw a piece of toast on the kitchen floor.

DAY TWO
Breakfast: Pick up stale toast from kitchen floor and eat it. Drink half bottle of vanilla extract or one vial of vegetable dye.
Lunch: Half tube of "Pulsating Pink" lipstick and a handful of Purina Dog Chow (any flavor). One ice cube, if desired.
Afternoon snack: Lick an all-day sucker until sticky, take outside, drop in dirt. Retrieve and continue slurping until it is clean again. Bring inside and drop on rug.
Dinner: A rock or an uncooked bean, which should be thrust up your left nostril. Pour grape Kool-Aid over mashed potatoes. Eat with spoon.

DAY THREE
Breakfast: Two pancakes with plenty of syrup. Eat one with fingers; rub in hair. Glass of milk; drink half and stuff other pancake in glass. After breakfast, pick up yesterday's sucker from rug, lick off fuzz, and put it on the cushion of best chair.
Lunch: Three matches, one glass of milk, one peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Spit several bites onto the floor. Pour glass of milk on table and slurp up.
Dinner: Dish of ice cream, handful of potato chips, some red punch. Try to laugh some punch through your nose, if possible.

FINAL DAY
Breakfast: A quarter of a can of cake frosting (any flavor), a bit of soap, an olive. Pour a glass of milk over bowl of cornflakes; add half a cup of sugar. Once cereal is soggy, drink milk and feed cereal to dog.
Lunch: Eat breadcrumbs off kitchen floor and dining room carpet. Find that sucker and finish eating it.
Dinner: Drop pieces of spaghetti onto back of dog; insert meatball into own ear. Dump pudding into Kool-Aid and suck up with a straw.

Turkeys

I guess maybe it's not too city-ish where we live after all. When there are a dozen turkeys walking through your yard and down the middle of your street:




This picture doesn't show it well, but we have found in the past that it doesn't work to go outside to try to snap a picture. We inadvertently chase them off, no matter how quiet and sneaky we are. So this is a photo taken from the living room window:

There are THREE turkeys sitting in my little crab apple tree. Andrew said something about how big those turkeys are, and how the tree can hold them while they nibble crab apples. Hey, that there is one clear demonstration of what it is to have hollow bones!

Seven Things

Paula tagged me with a meme and a Kreativ Blogger award. Thanks, Paula! I enjoy your blog too, especially the creative things you report from your kids!

I have found copying pictures of blog-awards to be stretching the limits of my ability. I suppose I could figure it out (again!!), but that would mean neglecting some mommy-duties. So if you want to see the award, you'll have to look at somebody else's blog.

The meme calls for

Seven things I did before:
1. Cheer wildly for Illini basketball and football.
2. Gymnastics and pompoms.
3. Read. Books. To myself.
4. Nurse babies.
5. Garden.
6. Sew clothes for myself and my long appendages.
7. Read the newspaper thoroughly.

Seven things I do now:
1. Laundry.
2. House cleaning.
3. Cooking.
4. Sing in choir.
5. Blog too much.
6. Fuss with my glasses on-and-off while I'm still rebelling against succumbing to the need for bifocals.
7. Homeschool two kids.

Seven things I would like to do:
1. Travel in Italy and Greece with Gary, more in the countryside than at the famous historic places.
2. Write a book or two.
3. Learn to relax and not worry about all the things I don't accomplish.
4. Remember how to work the technology (tv, computer, camera, etc) so that my family can teach me these things once each, instead of having to show me a gazillion times.
5. Become near-fluent in German and Greek, and as long as I'm dreaming, maybe Latin too.
6. Play more games with Maggie.
7. Periodically run away to the sunny south to escape the deep, dark days of northern winter.

Seven things that attract me to my husband:
1. That he believes the same doctrine I believe.
2. He loves me.
3. Very cute cheeks.
4. He doesn't waste money.
5. How good he is at fixing things and solving problems.
6. He spends long hours at his job so that I can be a mommy and housewife instead of a wage-earner.
7. When he spends his free time talking to me or helping with the dishes.

Seven favorite foods:
1. Fruit salads.
2. Stir-fry veggies, especially from King Dragon.
3. Seafood alfredo.
4. Sweet-100 cherry tomatoes in August.
5. Chicken breast poached in teriyaki sauce.
6. Hotfresh bread with too much butter.
7. Pizza lentils.

Seven things I say most often:
With the kids:
1. Do you know how many "one" is? Are you sure you can count to 1?
2. Didn't your grandfather teach you that Life Is Not Fair?
3. Did you do your chores yet?
4. Don't ask me again; it's FOOD.
At Bible class:
5. Wait! I have a question!
Other:
6. I better go change the load of laundry.
7. Jesus, save us!

Seven people I am tagging:
1. Maggie -- except she doesn't have a husband, so instead it'll have to be two nice things about each of the people you currently live with -- that'll get you close to 7.
2. Polly.
3-7. Uh... if you're reading this and haven't answered the questions yet, you're welcome to join in.

Today's Laugh

A Texan, an Englishman, and a Frenchman are all in Saudi Arabia, sharing a smuggled crate of booze when, all of a sudden, Saudi police rush in and arrest them. The mere possession of alcohol is a severe offense in Saudi Arabia, so for the terrible crime of actually being caught consuming the booze, they are all sentenced to death!

However, after many months and with the help of very good lawyers, they are able to successfully appeal their sentences down to life imprisonment. By a stroke of luck, it was a Saudi national holiday the day their trial finished, and the extremely benevolent sheikh decided they could be released after receiving just 20 lashes each of the whip.

As they were preparing for their punishment, the sheikh announced: "It's my first wife's birthday today, and she has asked me to allow each of you one wish before your whipping."

The Englishman was first in line, he thought for a while and then said: "Please tie a pillow to my back." This was done, but the pillow only lasted 10 lashes before the whip went through. When the punishment was done he had to be carried away bleeding and crying with pain.

The Frenchman was next up. After watching the Englishman in horror he said smugly: "Please fix two pillows to my back." But even two pillows could only take 15 lashes before the whip went through again, and the Frenchman was soon led away whimpering loudly (as they do).

The Texan was the last one up, but before he could say anything, the sheikh turned to him and said: "You are from a most beautiful part of the world and your culture is one of the finest in the world. For this, you may have two wishes!"

"Thank you, your most royal and merciful highness," the Texan replied. "In recognition of your kindness, my first wish is that you give me not 20, but 100 lashes."

"Not only are you an honorable, handsome, and powerful man, you are also very brave." The sheikh said with an admiring look on his face. "If 100 lashes is what you desire, then so be it. And your second wish, what is it to be?" the sheikh asked.

"Tie the Frenchman to my back."

Ushers

So often, the ushers at churches are busy with their responsibilities and aren't paying attention to worship. That was one of the reasons that we weren't upset at our previous congregation when our sons decided that they didn't particularly want to usher. We wanted them to be praying and listening and singing in church, but often the ushers were chatting in the back about various and sundry topics.

At our new congregation, that doesn't happen very often.

During the closing hymn, the deacon and the pastor leave the chancel, down the aisle, to the rear of the nave. The acolyte puts out the candles, and then comes down the aisle too. Since I've been in choir, I have noticed that the pastor stands at the back of church, with his hymnal open (even if he knows the hymn by heart), so that he can share his hymnal with the acolyte when he is done with his candle-duties. Obviously the acolyte is expected to join pastor; pastor points out in the hymnal how far along the congregation is in the hymn; the acolyte starts singing along.

Such a small thing. But it says something to the kids who are acolyting, to the ushers who are standing in back, and to the choir members. We don't "bust on outta there." We don't have something better to do. We are in church; we pray the hymns and the liturgy. Even if there are other responsibilities upon us. We pray.

Roof Rake

Last year we noticed that we were the house in the neighbor with the humongous piles of snow on the roof. I don't know if it's the location of the house, the arrangement of the trees plus the neighboring houses, the lay of the land, or what. But we had drifts of 4' or more on our roof. And, oh, the overhangs of snow-pack, looming over the edge of the eaves. Amazing! Other houses had the same problem, but none to the extent that we had.

I've heard about the damage that ice dams can create. I hope we're not set up to have that problem, but even if we're not, we're just askin' for huge wads of snow-pack to come crashing down off the eaves.

So I bought a roof rake.

Used it today. Boy, the muscles in my legs are in better shape than are the ones in my upper body.

The thing I don't understand is why a roof rake will help if the gutters are full of snow. There is no place for the melting snow to go if the gutters are snow-packed and full of ice.

On the other hand, there was a LOT of snow on our roof last year. It didn't seem to have any inclination to melt and refreeze.

So,
we will see.

Today's Laugh

How do you tell the difference between Democrats, Republicans, and Southern Republicans?

Try posing the following question:
You're walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, a dangerous looking man with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife, and charges.

You are carrying a Glock .40, and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do?

Democrat's answer: Well, that's not enough information to answer the question! Does the man look poor or oppressed? Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack? Could we run away? What does my wife think? What about the kids? Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand? What does the law say about this situation? Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it?

Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children? Is it possible he'd be happy with just killing me? Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me? If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me? Should I call 9-1-1? Why is this street so deserted?

We need to raise taxes, have a paint and weed day and make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behavior. This is all so confusing! I need to debate this with some friends for a few days and try to come to a consensus.


Republican's answer: BANG!


Southern Republican's answer: BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click....(sounds of reloading). BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click

Daughter: "Nice grouping, Daddy! Were those the Winchester Silver Tips?"

Community

Last night I was filling out a survey for some research on VCFS and its effects on the person, the caregiver, the family, and the community. When I'm asked to fill out a survey on homeschooling, I nearly always refuse to participate. I don't think it's helpful to have research that "proves" homeschooling is okay, because after all, what makes homeschooling okay is that God put children into families with parents, and children don't belong to the State. It's not the good results that make homeschooling okay (even though there are good results), and such research silently assents to the idea that homeschooling rights exist because we can measure up on the academic playing field. However, when a survey is about VCFS, and the experts know so little yet, and our family is one of the oddballs in that we homeschool and, well, "handle" the VCFS so differently than is normally advised, then I'm more willing to participate in the research studies.

Anyway...
There was a section in the survey that was asking about our family's acceptance in the community, and whether the community cared about our child's VCFS, and whether the community supported us as we raise a child with VCFS, and how involved our family is in making the community a better place, etc. I was thinking that the community doesn't care much. That's not an indictment against anybody; it's just that we haven't lived here very long and don't know too many people, and certainly don't know them well enough to be talking much about VCFS with these near-strangers.

But as I continued in the "community" section of the survey, some of the questions specifically asked about our "faith community" which was described as our church or mosque or synagogue. I answered the questions about church very very differently from how I answered the questions regarding the overall community. But the way the survey was arranged made it seem like church was part of the "community." I never thought of it that way before.

What do you think? Is church part of the community? Or is church something very different from our "communities"? Is this an "in the world but not of the world" thing? Or do I have an inadequate definition in my head of what "community" is?

Today's Laugh

A 3-legged dog walks into an old west saloon, slides up to the bar and announces "I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."

Netflix

We recently changed from Blockbuster-Online to Netflix, largely due to the availability of educational materials like documentaries and Standard Deviants. The big surprise, though, in the change-over is how fast Netflix is. When we return a video, the next one arrives in only TWO days of mail. Nice!

Jesus' Commandments

Psalm 71:3 says,
Be my strong refuge,
to which I may resort continually;
You have given the commandment to save me,
for You are my rock and my fortress.

True confessions: I used to HATE Psalm 119. All that talk about "loving God's law." I hated His law. It condemned me. It showed me how I failed. It told me to do things I could not do. It showed me how the things I did were contrary to God's desires. The Bible could speak of "loving God's law" and pastors could preach on it, but I disagreed. How could anybody love the thing that damned?

And yet, it is God's law. It must be good. It must.
But that didn't matter to me. It condemned. I hated it.

I know people who say they "love God's law." Many of them are people who love it because they see it as their instruction manual to get to heaven. "Here's the plan. Follow the plan. Do what it says. All will be well."

A long time ago, John Mark loved God's law that way. He came to Jesus to inquire about heaven (Mark 10). He announced to Jesus that he had kept the commandments. (Jesus didn't seem to think that was enough, though. Or maybe Jesus was of the opinion that Mark hadn't really kept those commandments; maybe Mark wasn't there for the Sermon on the Mount.)

This is the general way it works. Either we pat ourselves on the back for keeping the law, expecting God to be oh-so-happy with what good little Christians we are. Or we despair because the law demands what we cannot give.

Pastor talks sometimes about Jesus' commands as differentiated from Moses' commands. (Now, he is not saying that Moses' commands are not God's commands. They most certainly are. They are, however, commands of law.) Pastor pointed out that Jesus commanded His apostles to forgive sins (John 20) and to baptize (Matthew 28) and to preach (Luke 24) and to eat His body and blood (Mark 14). These are "commands" of the gospel. These are commands that are sweet and life-giving and comforting.

But it was something I'd never heard before.
This took some pondering.
For a couple of years.

So it was immensely satisfying to note in Psalm 71 that the Lord has given the commandment to save me.

Tracks in the Snow

One day last summer, we saw a small group of teenagers walking through our yard. They weren't near the house. They left the road, followed rather near the property line between our house and the neighbor's, headed across the big open spot in our back yard, and then went into the nursery that backs-up to the corner of our property. No damage. No trouble. Just some folks trying to get from the road to the nursery.

I wasn't real comfortable with it, but as far as I knew it happened only that one time.

Now there's snow. Maggie asked about the tracks in the snow that made a bee-line from the road to the back corner of the yard. She said they weren't hers. That means the incident last summer wasn't just once.

Now I'm wondering what's going to happen to the berries and tomatoes and grapes and green beans that I intend to plant out there. Will this group of interlopers trample them because my garden will be in their way when they go hiking? Will they sample the goodies I grow? Or will they just walk on past, heading to their hiking spot in the tree nursery with nary a thought of doing harm?

Psalm 69:6

Let not those who wait for You,
O Lord Yahweh of hosts,
be ashamed because of me;
Let not those who seek You
be confounded because of me, O God of Israel.
Because for Your sake I have borne reproach;
Shame has covered my face.

I used to think this psalm was about the unbelievers pickin' on the believers, and how the believers are upset by that and don't like the suffering, and how David's (or Jesus') hearers would be embarrassed by the preacher. But as I prayed this psalm last night, I began to wonder....

Maybe it's not about the anointed one hiding out in the wilderness, away from Saul. Maybe it's about what he believes, what he preaches, what he stands for (such as not killing the king, but waiting for God's timing). Maybe it's about his reliance on God's grace and mercy. THAT can be confounding to Christians. Christians can look at small congregations with faithful preachers and be ashamed because they don't have mega-churches like Elmbrook or Joel Osteen's church. "Pastor, why can't you say the things that draw people in, like they do?"

Christians need to be saved from more than cancer and poverty and hunger. We need to saved too from our belief that there is something more than the Gospel of the forgiveness of sins.

Hear me, O Yahweh, for Your lovingkindness is good;
turn to me according to the multitude of Your tender mercies.

Must Say Yes

One of my kids has a friend who is not shy about making requests. If he wants to go somewhere and his parents can't haul him there, he'll ask us to take him. At first, this was hard for me. I tend to think that I should say "yes" to whatever request people make of me unless I have a darn good reason not to. But then I end up struggling within myself as to whether I have a "good enough" reason to say no to the person who is requesting that I, oh, say, serve on a committee or join an organization or make a donation to their charity.

After some pondering, I think there are two types of people in the world. There are those like me who self-monitor their requests of others: "Oh, I can't ask them to do that; that would be imposing," or "This is too big a favor to ask," or "I don't want to be a bother so I won't ask for the help I need." These kind of people feel compelled to say "yes" to requests because obviously somebody wouldn't make the request unless they really really need to ask.

Then there's the other type of people. They're the ones who ask boldly because, after all, nobody will know what you want unless you honestly tell them. And if the person wants to say "no" to your request, that's just fine. These kind of people aren't offended in the least if they get "no" for an answer. (This actually has some back-up with regard to what Scripture says about praying boldly.)

I think the problem comes when the two types of people interact. Person A will agonize over saying "no" to Person B, while Person B isn't in the least offended by a negative response. Person B cannot understand why anybody should have a hard time saying "no" to an unwelcome request. Person A makes requests with much trepidation. Person B says "no" easily, without realizing how much it will effect Person A.

It would save me a lot of trouble if we could just put labels on people's foreheads as to which group they fall into. It would make it so much easier to say "no" without guilt.

And it would also make it easier to cope with the Group-B people who can't figure out why us Group-A people have a hard time saying "no."

Now, do you suppose this is genetic?

Four Letter S-Word

Snow.

I was hoping to be able to run away, spend an evening and a morning with the folks in Fort Wayne, and impose upon my parents for Monday evening and a chunk o' Tuesday. (No, Mom, I hadn't invited myself yet. I figured I'd call after church today with my exploratory questions about availability. But I also figure I have a pretty good guess as to your availability.)

And then people at church were talking about the snow and the travel advisories. When I checked the weather forecasts, they'd changed a good deal since my last peek at them yesterday morning. So I guess I will make bread tomorrow instead of hugging a baby and hugging my pa. So much for my grand plans. This might mean we have to do math tomorrow....

Best Quote on Thanksgiving

Looking at picture albums, Rachel pointed out to Matt the time she was 10-months-old, and we were at the Alamo. She said that she would love now to be able to see the Alamo, but she forgot her trip there because it happened when she was just too little. And Matt responded:

So... you didn't remember the Alamo?

Weekend's Pictures

Gary at one of those activities traditional to Thanksgiving at his grandma's:


Matt, posing:


Rachel:


See the short hair? Rachel gave me a haircut:


Paul chopping turkey for the tuna casserole. Okay, okay... we know that tuna casserole is supposed to have something swimmy-swimmy in it, and not something that says gobble-gobble. Details, details....


Maggie rotting her brain on video games:


The boys playing a new card game pirate-ship game:


Gary neatening the garage, in hopes that we might be able to fit two vehicles into the 2.5 garage instead of only one:

Warm Fuzzies

My friend had mercy on the poor chilly girl here. She sewed up a warm, fuzzy vest and cap, and made a neck warmer to match. The instructions that came with the "warm-up kit" said that my family was not to laugh at me with my warm-duds. Thinking they would not tune in to the instructions, I specifically pointed out the "Do Not Laugh" part. They did not altogether fail to comply.

Thank you, Elephant's Child!! Today's package contained Warm Fuzzies of more than one kind!

Today's Laugh

When my heart was breaking Thursday afternoon, I had some boys who provided some laughs that helped. Philip was showing us failblog.org.

There was the ad on the subway. Notice that the small-print at the bottom of the sign says the sponsor of the ad is a funeral home!

There's the menu at the Chinese restaurant.

There's the sign-board at Pizza Hut that makes you scratch your head over who designed the sign, and who actually executed the hanging of the sign without questioning the writer-of-the-sign.

For those who don't take time to click on links, one of the signs said, "Frozen water; works like ice; 99 cents."

Gary's Doctor Visit

Last week he saw the doctor for a follow-up appointment regarding his hand injury. It turned out that during his six weeks of wearing the splint, the tendons did not reattach. When he saw the doctor a week ago, his finger was quite inflamed, somewhat swollen, and painful. It also happened that he'd injured his shoulder over the weekend. So that day he ended up with x-rays of both his shoulder and his hand.

Good news on the shoulder: the repeated damage to his left shoulder has left no signs of arthritis in it. Good news on the finger: no bone fragments floating around inside. Bad news on the finger: the options appear to be either surgery or just living with the pain until the non-healing tendons are rubbed numb and the nerves don't keep sending out pain signals. The doctor is looking into more information on the option of hand surgery.

Today So Far

We're still reeling from the news yesterday that Nathan doesn't have a job after all.

We got up this morning to find three flat tires. Two on the Camry, one on the Mercury. Given which tires were flat, it almost looks like somebody was hiding between the two cars to let the air out on purpose.

Today's Laugh

On a day where the traffic on the streets and in the malls will drive you crazy, here's a totally un-PC joke:



Answering service at a mental institution --

Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline.

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you what to do.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.

If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the hash key until someone comes on the line.

If you are dyslexic, press 6969696969.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother's maiden name.

If you have post-traumatic stress disorder, slowly and carefully press 00.

If you have bipolar disorder, please leave a message after the beep, or before the beep, or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All our operators are too busy to talk to you.

More Baby Pictures

Three and a half weeks:
Getting ready for a bath


Holding her head up all by herself!

Today's Laugh

Quite a hoot! Go check out the piece on Not a Martha-Stewart Thanksgiving.

Just to whet your appetite, and to give you incentive to go read the whole thing, here are two paragraphs. The first follows on the heels of the paragraph which revealed that at 5am the turkey was still frozen solid enough to cut diamonds:

As accompaniment to the children’s recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don’t own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.


And another section, which explains quite well why we don't have those Norman-Rockwell moments at our Thanksgiving table:

Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress “private” meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.

Pictures of Alia

Three weeks old:



And this one is probably my favorite so far:

Shopping

I hate shopping.
Going to the store to buy the weekly groceries is bad enough. But there is no time to do it during the week of Thanksgiving and the week of Christmas. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the stores are crowded with people who are shopping for groceries for the holiday, and all I want to do is restock my pantry with the regular items that have been depleted by the eaters in my house. And on Friday and Saturday, I do not want to get ANYWHERE near any area where there are any stores of any kind.

But I need eggs.
And Maggie needs shoes.
I've been putting this off for days...

and the crowdedness of the stores is only getting worse as the week passes.


Note to self: I should be thankful that there IS a store where I can buy shoes for my child, and that I have money to do so. Nevertheless, it sure is easier to stock up big-time 8-9 days prior to the holiday, and then not venture toward the store until 3-4 days post-holiday.

Seven Random Weird Facts About Me

Cheryl tagged me for a post that includes --well, how obvious is the title?-- seven random facts about me. And for some thoroughly bizarro reason, she expects me to come up with facts more fascinating then her factoids? Silly Cheryl....

1. I have fought and fought with the computer when it won't give me any sound for YouTube videos or for old Issues Etc programs that I am trying to listen to. When I ask my son for help, he again and again patiently explains that I must turn ON the speakers for the sound to come out. After being repeatedly embarrassed in front of him, I can now remember to turn the speakers on after only a few seconds of fidgeting with the computer, panicking over why the sound is "broken."

2. Whenever we move and find a new dentist, I must always explain my three broken teeth. Two happened in a "trust game" in grade school, and one happened when the neighborhood bully threw a rock at me and hit me in the face with it as I biked to school. Boy, maybe that explains why I don't think so much of either school socialization or "trust games."

3. When we started homeschooling, I was captivated by the ideas presented by Cornerstone Curriculum. (By the way, my opinions have changed.) I remember how they denigrated the Impressionists because that style of art was the first downhill step in moving away from exact depictions of reality, and moving instead toward feelings about reality. I knew nothing about art. We didn't do that in public school. But as we continued homeschooling, and discovered an art series that even I could understand, I discovered that I like the Impressionists. I felt guilty about it for a while. Sometimes still do. Nevertheless, I am crazy about Renoir's Luncheon on the Boat, and it hangs over my computer.

4. We've been doing most of our cleaning on Tuesdays for some reason. I told the kids that I wanted to spend two hours cleaning yesterday so that we wouldn't have that hanging over our heads while Paul is home for the weekend. So we did! Two hours! The house is by no means spotless or dustfree or cobweb-free, but it's perfectly decent. In two hours. If we can do that every week, the knowledge that it is ONLY TWO HOURS will make it so much easier to keep up with the cleaning.

5. Cheri told me it's time to change to a winter purse because mine is very summery, with a kind of "woven grass" look, in pastel blue and green and purple. And I have SO much fashion sense that I said, "Huh?" But she's right. But I still haven't changed purses. Probably won't.

6. When I was doing my exercise-walking yesterday, I noticed that my footprints in the snow are in a very very straight line. All that time on a balance beam in years past still leaves its imprint. [Pun! Ha!]

7. In high school once, I remember that my dad had told me I needed to wash the car one day when I had wanted to go do something with my friends. I was mad. If he was going to make me miss my event to wash the car, I would show him. I would just spend the whole day washing the car. I would polish the hubcaps, and I would dust and buff the dashboard, and I would vacuum under the seats, and I would clean out the trunk, and I would empty the ashtrays of their stash of gum-wrappers, and I would scrub all the stickiness and every smidge of dirt off the steering wheel. I would not only wash the car's outsides, but I would wax it too. Boy, that'd show him how upset I was that he interfered with my plans with my friends! (Now, if it were me as the parent, I would start interfering with my kids' plans a whole lot more if that was how my kids exhibited stubbornness! LOL!)

Okay, I'm supposed to tag some other people. How about Maggie and Maggie, Naomi, and Rick?

Today's Laugh

Seen on last weekend's recipes on Lucianne.com, in amongst comments on baked squirrel, spreading out to possum-cooking:

An armadillo is just a possum on the half-shell.

More Alia Pictures

Wow, she's a lot bigger!
Eight pounds now at 3 weeks old:



Aren't they beautifully fascinating fingers?

Creamed Corn

Fat.
Fat.
Glorious fat.

Oh, this is good!

Thanks to Barbara, who linked to Lucianne's recipe-posting weekend, I found this treat.

It's best made with fresh sweet corn from the field. But if you don't have that, you can use frozen corn. Thaw the corn. Throw it, in small batches, into the food processor and chop roughly -- do not turn it to mush. Melt lots of butter in the skillet. Cook corn slowly in the butter, till it's nearly dry. Then add heavy cream and cook down. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

This is like heaven compared to the creamed corn you buy in a can. Of course, with that much fat in it, what do we expect? Mmmmmm!

Winter

The sun sets earlier in town. Here it is, still 4 weeks till solstice, and the sun is setting at 4:15. Nearly every week last winter and the previous year I'd be surprised when we got to town for paper routes, assuming we still had half an hour of daylight left, and discovering that darkness came in town much earlier because of the houses blocking the horizon and the trees shading whatever light was still bouncing around up in the sky.

Wall clocks that run on batteries should not be on outside walls during the winter. The cold is hard on the batteries. The clock slows down. The person who expects the clock to be two minutes early gets where she's going and discovers that the clock was actually four minutes behind. (Do you remember the "household tip" that said to store your batteries in the refrigerator to keep them fresh? Who came up with that cockamamie advice anyhow???)

Today's Laugh

One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behavior that was going on. He decided to send an angel down to Earth to check it out.

So he called one of His angels and sent the angel to Earth for a time. When he returned, he told God, "Yes, it is bad on Earth; 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not."

God thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion." So God called another angel and sent him to Earth for a time too.

When the angel returned he went to God and said, "Yes, it's true. The Earth is in decline; 95% are misbehaving, but 5% are being good."

God was not pleased. So He decided to email the 5% that were good, because He wanted to encourage them, to give them a little something to help them keep going.

Do you know what the E-mail said?





I was just wondering; I didn't get one either.

More Baby Pictures

Two weeks old:

Three weeks old:

The Help of Computers

Rachel has decided to tackle NaNoWriMo and write a novel in the month of November. She told me yesterday that today she is headed to Panera to write today. She cannot write in the house. Too many distractions.

I was raised in an era of typewriters. Computers were machines that took up whole buildings. In college, the idea of a computer that would sit on a desk (on a desk? a whole computer???) was just beginning to come into vogue. I remember the secretary at the church in Wautoma having to type and retype and retype letters to people: sometimes because she made a typo that couldn't be fixed and thus she started over, sometimes because there was one line in each letter which needed to be adjusted for the recipient (such as which position that person was serving as a church officer). The word-processing typewriter (which had some memory in it) was such a time-saving blessing!

I don't know now how I could function with writing the old-fashioned way. It's so easy to make corrections on the computer, to adjust words, to tweak paragraphs, to plop an extra thought into the middle of a sentence. The words flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard in the way that the words once, long ago, flowed from my pen onto paper. And unfortunately, the words no longer flow from pen to paper so easily.

I am old enough that I think of computers primarily as something that, well, computes, for the bank, for the credit card companies, for the colleges ... and as a word-processor. I am beginning to see the computer, though, the way the younger generation does: as a way to keep in touch with those who are miles away, as the world's file cabinet of interesting information, and maybe even as entertainment.

And thus I find it fascinating that Rachel is leaving her computer to write. She is headed to Panera with her pen and notebook. (That is, a spiral-bound notebook, with white paper with pale blue lines. Not a computer the size of a notebook.) The distractions of home --the housecleaning, the cooking, the cats-- and the distractions of the computer --email, blogs, Facebook photos, games, etc-- prevent her from writing. The very computer which eases the process of writing is the exact same thing that distracts her from doing the work.

Somehow, when I hear some of the older pastors speak about the young pastors spending too much time on the computer, I can see how it's hard to balance the time-saving aspects of the word-processor with the time-wasting aspects of online socialization and gaming.

And I think Rachel has probably discovered the only real solution. Putting distance between herself and the machine.

Grown-Up Work

Two weeks ago, when I was in Fort Wayne, I spent several hours per day for four days at the sem library. Katie was doing fine with nursing Alia, and I didn't need to be in the new family's hair all the time -- just at mealtime and cleaning time ... and a little bit of cooing-at-Alia time.

There is a CCA project that got stalled. Some grad assistants at the sem were working on the project. But then they had the audacity to graduate [can you believe it?!?!] and get ordained and go out there in the world to take care of the sheep entrusted to them by the Shepherd. And so, the project languished temporarily for want of attention.

I requested the job and was given permission to tackle it. When I started in on the project, I realized that I had a lot to figure out. I (the techno-phobe who took three weeks to learn how to operate the email, and that only after repeated and explicit instructions from my children, and copious note-taking on my part) figured out the sem's computer catalog of books and articles. The librarians showed me how to work the funky copier that's specially for books, and I did it. The librarians and I managed to get photocopies off both the microfiche and the microfilm. I found articles tucked away in odd places. DoRena's Sam even told me how I could get a hold of as-yet-uncatalogued books. I puzzled out things that I honestly thought my brain was no longer capable of.

It was exhilarating!

I was a little afraid of coming home and rebelling against the daily housewife routine that doesn't require such stretches of problem-solving in unfamiliar territory (and enticing peeks into articles and lectures that looked quite intriguing). But it's been okay. I haven't been pining to do that out-of-the-home grown-up work. There's just something wonderful about knowing that I haven't lost so many brain cells that my work at the sem library was completely beyond me.

So wonderful, in fact, that it was [amazingly enough!] as good as Baby Watching.

Today's Laugh

In April of 1996, the author of the Hokey-Pokey died. Larry LaPrise died peacefully in his sleep. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in, and then the trouble started.

Baby Pictures

Hooray, hooray! Katie posted some pictures on her Facebook account! For those who don't have access to Facebook:

Today's Laugh

This one is from Jodi:

Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, are excessively mischievous. They are always getting into trouble and their parents know all about it. If any mischief occurs in their town, the two boys are probably involved.

The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8-year-old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.

The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son?"

The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?!"

Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!"

The boy screamed & bolted from the room, ran directly home, and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him.

When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"

The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time.

"GOD is missing, and they think we did it!"