Huh? What Are YOU Talking About?

We were both baffled. 

Expectations and assumptions -- they sure do affect communication.

A very sweet Methodist co-worker (a mom of soldiers) cheerily asked today if our church service on Sunday would be in celebration of soldiers. 

I can't imagine how confused my face must have looked.  "Sunday??  Soldiers??  Uh, we'll be celebrating the Feast of the Holy Trinity."

Then it was her turn to be confused.  It's Memorial Day weekend.  Why wouldn't we be honoring the soldiers?  She wasn't negative, she certainly didn't accuse or anything, but she seemed bewildered by my answer.

"Last Sunday was Pentecost. This Sunday is Trinity.  It's a high feast of the Church."  My statements sounded more like questions because I thought these things went without saying.

And then a customer arrived and the conversation was cut short, as so often happens.

I'm such a misfit.

Swishy Skirt

Last week, on the day of dance class, I had to work.  Work means wearing a dress.  That day I wore something with a rather full, round skirt. 

Oh my goodness!  It is SO much more fun to dance in a full skirt than in jeans.  The skirt flows and swishes. 

I thought I was being silly about it.  But when I mentioned to Gary how pretty the skirt looked, he said he'd noticed too.  He said that was why he was spinning me in turns more than normal.  Hee hee hee -- fun stuff!

Wedding Prep

Menu plans for the rehearsal dinner are in place: baked-potato bar and salad bar, with all the details excruciatingly listed on paper, anticipating my forgetfulness.  Paul and Mandy said pop wasn't necessary, and the church doesn't allow alcohol, so the drinks will be coffee, iced tea, lemonade, and water.   Fruit, brownies, and caramel bars for dessert.  Nothing fancy.

I bought 20# of bacon on Monday.  So far I've cooked-&-crumbled 11# of it.  Smells good in here. 

I'm trying very hard to give myself speeches that it will indeed be okay to buy lettuce already washed and cut and bagged.  Right now I'm telling myself what all I'm going to do to prep dinner-for-40, but I think there may have to be some cheating (i.e., buying packages of food that merely need to be opened instead of prepared entirely from scratch).

Still need to slightly alter the dress I bought at Goodwill.  Seams are ripped but not tucked to size and put back aright.

Bought the paper goods today.  Again I prove that I "don't do pretty."  I bought blue, square, plastic, disposable plates.  Red cups.  Napkins with brightly colored balloons.  I doubt there will be decorations of any sort.  I'm better at cooking than at beautifying.  (Maybe I'll dazzle them with food so that they don't notice the lack of streamers and flowers and tablecloths??)

Still have garden and a word-processing project on which to make headway in the next few weeks.

The German Homeschool Family Seeking Asylum in U.S.

Some of you have heard about the German family who came to the United States because it's illegal to homeschool in Germany and they were opposed to enrolling their children in a public school which teaches contrary to the family's beliefs.  The family overstayed their visa.  It was time to go home.  They didn't leave America, claiming religious persecution awaited them in Germany. 

Not surprisingly, the Home School Legal Defense Association is involved. 

The Inappropriate Homeschooler posted information on the case.  Is this case really about the US government trying to destroy homeschoolering?  Or might it be yet another case of HSLDA "helping" homeschoolers in a way that will benefit their organization, increasing membership, increasing our need to be "protected," and thus increasing their own power?

What Loopers Means to Me

My homeschool email list brought me friends.  I used to be able to leave my locale and visit them two or more times annually.  Now I cannot.  I miss that and continue to grieve over it even though there are wonderful friends right here close. 

But there are things in life that shape you.  And my in-real-life friends (the ones with whom I usually interact via our onlines discussions) have been a huge part of my life.  And Lora describes it SO well. 

Common Core

First it was "A Nation at Risk."  Then under Pres Bush it was "outcome-based education" with nation-wide curriculum goals.  Then during Clinton's term, the name was "Goals 2000."  Then came the younger Bush's "No Child Left Behind."  The current reincarnation of national standards is "Common Core."  I'm sure the proponents of these plans think each plan is different and unique and wonderful, while the Other Guy's Plan is bad bad bad.

But all I see is the feds taking control of education.  Whether the nationalized goals are excellent or wretched -- it doesn't matter.  Control of education should be LOCAL.

In Indiana two moms got involved in fighting the Common Core, encouraging their state to back out of the program and say "no thank you" to the wad of cash with which the feds are attempting to bribe the states to go along with the program.

Two comments:

Heather Crossin and Erin Tuttle did not get involved in opposing Common Core because of anything Michelle Malkin or Glenn Beck said to rile them up, but because of what they saw happening in their own children’s  Catholic  school. When experts or politicians said that Common Core would not lead to a surrender of local control over curriculum, Heather and Erin knew better. (Ironically, the leverage in Indiana was Tony Bennett’s school-choice program, which made state vouchers available to religious schools, but only if they adopted state tests — which were later quietly switched from ISTEP to the untried Common Core assessments.)

Got that?  These moms didn't even have their kids in public school.  But the school voucher system (which many conservatives are FOR) was what allowed the State to dictate curriculum to the private schools.

That's critical.  It's critical to decision-making in our parochial schools, our private secular schools, and our homeschools.  Taking government money is setting you up for submitting to government testing and government standards.

So why are so many good conservatives, from Jeb Bush to Rick Snyder, supporting Common Core? Many conservatives signed on to a clever strategy that asked them to endorse, not the specific standards, but the idea of high “internationally benchmarked” national standards. It is a principle of psychological persuasion that, once you act, in however small a manner, you will feel cognitively compelled to justify your action. 

So conservatives are concerned with lousy results from the school system.  They cry for higher standards and more control.  But "more control" means putting the federal government in charge.  And then ... look what we get.   But because people have made up their minds that they're in favor of "higher standards" and school-choice vouchers, they continue to support programs that are costly (both in terms of children's educations and in terms of tax-dollars).  And thus, the liberals and the conservatives both fight for more federal regulation of what happens day-by-day and hour-by-hour in kids' schools.

Something is wrong.

Starting the Sit-Ups Habit

When we were kids and took the Presidential Fitness Test, there were a lot of areas in which I did not excel, and some "strengths" in which I had no strength.  But sit-ups?  I could do sit-ups.  "How many can you do?"  "How long will you give me?"  I did sit-ups until they told me to stop and go to my next class.  No biggie.

Decades pass.  The Child-of-Strong-Stomach-Muscles becomes the woman who can only do two or three (or maybe four!) sit-ups.

So when Anthea wrote about her attempt to start some new good habits, I thought about getting into shape.  Being a person who does well with lists and the Awesome Wonderful Reward of checking things off, I printed out two Don't Break the Chain calendars.

Calendar 1: Sit ups.  Ten per day.  Oh, the agony ....   But after 10 days of daily sit-ups, it was easy to do 7, and possible to do [gasp] more than 10.   So the next month's goal was twelve sit-ups.  The following month's goal will be 15 sit-ups daily.  Hey!  This is working!

Calendar 2:  Going for an exercise walk.  Not working so well.  If I realize at bedtime that I didn't fit in a walk, I'm not going to get dressed again and go out in the dark (and the cold -- brrrrr!) to earn my check mark.  (A dozen sit-ups is easier to squeeze in at the last minute.  I can see why Anthea set herself a goal of reading for just five minutes.)

Right now there are a gazillion ideas I have for habit-starting calendars.  But I don't have enough space to hang 'em all.  Or ... enough brain-power and will-power to obey the calendars.  So for now, just two, with hopes of making habits. 

Hay

Two lawnmowers.  Three workers.  Total of nearly five man-hours.  And the lawn is a little more than half done.

[sigh]

Moral of the story:  No matter how busy we are, no matter how tired and/or ill we are, no matter how cold it is next November, the lawn must be mowed One Last Time in fall.

Caramel without HFCS

I was recently making Glenda's Most Evil Dessert as a thank-you treat for some of my co-workers.  Of course, it never crossed my mind to buy a bag or two of caramels (which is one of the main ingredients).  So Maggie and I determined to mix up some caramels right-quick.  That's when we discovered we had no corn syrup either (a main ingredient in the caramels). 

So I substituted honey.  Y'know -- real honey.  Made by bees.  Instead of chemists.

Guess what?  Those were darn good caramels!

Finally, A Warm Day!

That was last weekend.  This weekend we're back to closed windows, jackets outdoors, and the furnace turned on.

My friend Jenny has been vindicated once again.  She says you never take off the winter bedding until the peonies bloom.  But we were tired of getting so HOT under that comforter.  And we were a full week into May, for cryin' out loud.  The peonies weren't blooming; surely Jenny had to be wrong.  I swapped out the down comforter for a thin quilt.

Jenny wasn't wrong.  We slept comfortably for two nights without the down comforter.  Now it's cold again.

But at least it is NOT snowing!  Whew!

Murder Mystery

Jasmoor, the Arabian Princess

Costume cobbled together from
a) the granddaughters' dress-up box
b) the tiara I bought for Anthea's International Tiara Day
c) old clothes that weren't even fit for giving to Goodwill
d) remnants from JoAnn Fabric's moving sale

Cardinals Game

Enjoyed a day with friends at the ball park!

Reading Challenge: Update

"A Little Help from My Friends"
Reading Challenge

Get a list of book suggestions from your friends.  From those suggestions choose between five and ten books that you will read in 2013.  Make a list of the books that you will read and a few alternates.
And the other instructions can be found on Jane's site.

My list:
Anne of Green Gables   by L. M. Montgomery  January 24
Anne of Avonlea   (these two with Maggie) February 24
Mara, Daughter of the Nile   by Eloise Jarvis McGraw
Love Divine   by Alan Kornacki
Mitford's Out to Canaan    by Jan Karon
Christ Have Mercy   by Matt Harrison April 7


The list that someone else made for me:
Lutheran Catechesis   by Bender Dec 27, 2012
Old Testament Catechesis   by Bender March 1
New Testament Catechesis    by Bender
Bible Stories for Daily Prayer    by Fabrizius



Alternates:
Kristin Lavransdatter  by Sigrid Undset
To Kill a Mockingbird   by  Harper Lee May 8
Luther, the Reformer   by James Kittelson
The Right to Be Wrong   by Seamus Hasson
On Being a Theologian of the Cross   by Forde
Luther on Vocation   by Wingren

Additional books (not on the original list):
A Long Way from Chicago by R Peck audio book April 16
A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck audio book April 18
And She Was a Christian: Why Do Believers
Commit Suicide by Peter Preus May 7


Wow: the count thus far is 5 paper books, 2 audio books, and 2 for proofreading.  That's more than a year's worth in normal-booktime.  Even if I don't read anything else for the rest of the year, I'm going to claim (??) that I met my goal.  Hey, I read five books!

But What About Eating Bacon?

It doesn't matter whether the subject is women's ordination or homosexuality or abortion.  Often, when a Christian brings up, "The Bible says ..." the rejoinder will be, "But the Bible has all these dietary rules.  And you eat bacon.  And you eat shrimp and crab.  See?  You don't really care what the Bible says."

And that's supposed to be the proof that everything scriptural can be jettisoned.

Well, for just a moment, let's set aside the lengthier discussions of moral law and natural law as over against dietary law.  Let's set aside the whole thing about Christ being the fulfillment of the law, and how the law shows us what love is, and why God made those rules about what the Jews were to avoid eating. 

For just a moment, let's look at Acts 11, where God Himself tells Peter in a vision to eat the unclean animals.  So God Himself gave the go-ahead to set aside the Old Testament's dietary laws.  We're eating bacon-wrapped lobster tail not because we decided to set aside those laws, but because God said to.


Footnote 1: Yes, I realize that's not the main point of Acts 11.
Footnote 2:  Wouldn't it be great to have a grocery budget that allowed for bacon-wrapped lobster tails periodically?  Mmmmm.

Measuring Cups

When all the contents of a house have to GO [due to down-sizing or moving to a nursing home or because of death] ... the stuff has to go someplace.  To grandkids?  To a resale shop?  To the dump? 

What about pictures and once-treasured possessions?  What happens when the next generations don't cherish the things I cherish?  What will become of those items?  And should it matter?

A bunch of stuff is finding its way into our home these days. I can't cherish everything that could arrive here from grandparents, parents, and in-laws.  What's odd is the things that I do enjoy.

For all my adult life, I have owned one set of measuring cups and one set of measuring spoons.  For someone who cooks and bakes from scratch, that's been a little inconvenient.  Now I have my mother-in-law's metal measuring cups and spoons.  If my 1-cup measure is floury from baking bread, I have another cup [gasp] to measure sugar for kombucha.  Whoa -- this is nice.

The Law Is the Final Word

At least, it is according to almost everybody in the whole wide world.

Other religions teach that works are how we please the god or how we gain heaven or nirvana or whatever.  Be good; get a reward.  When I was having a conversation with a Jehovah's Witness about eating turkey on Thanksgiving and celebrating birthdays, that's what it came down to: "follow the rules, get a blessing from god."

Other Christian denominations too teach the same thing.  Yes, they admit that the Lord (the eternal God of the promise of salvation, the God who is triune and whose nature is love) helps us be good.  And yes, they admit that the Lord forgives our screw-ups for when we're not good.  But the point of religion is still to Be Good.  That's essentially what the Roman Catholic's purgatory and the Eastern Orthodox's theosis end up being about.  (Of course, most of them would deny it.)   And it's what most Protestants teach.  (And I'm sure they too would deny it.  And that's a good thing; it means their rational minds are conflicted against the saving faith worked in them by the Holy Spirit.)

It's even a controversy among Lutherans.  While no Lutheran would disagree with the necessity for good works, and while no Lutheran would disagree with the truth that we are saved by God's grace in Christ through no merit of our own, there are still many who (somehow) come off sounding like the point of the Gospel/forgiveness is to make us able to do a better job of following the Law.



In Bible class last Sunday we were discussing Luke 5.  The Pharisees and teachers of the law had come from all over the place, from Galilee, but also from way down in Judea and from Jerusalem.  They wanted to check out this Jesus dude and the stories they'd been hearing.  And when he forgave the sins of the paralyzed man, they were hacked off.  "Who can forgive sins but God alone?"

Pastor had other points to make, but for the most part, I got lost, thinking and thinking about why the legalists were there and why they were perturbed.  We live in a [ahem] diverse society today.  Everybody thinks they should be able to do whatever they want.  Everybody should be able to think whatever they want.  Children grow up and reject what was imparted to them.

SO ... what does it hurt anybody for Christians to believe in grace? 

Why do people fuss about it?

Okay, okay, IF we purportedly believe in grace and then live in sin that hurts other people, then I can understand people saying, "Whoa, hold up!  Your so-called freedom in the Gospel is damaging me."  And that would be valid.  But if the law is being preached rightly, and the gospel is forgiving sinners, then licentiousness can result only through rejection of true doctrine.

So why the objection to people trusting in grace?

Atheists object.  People of other religions object.  And even Christians want to convert other Christians to a belief that they have to Do SOMEthing to be real Christians.

If you don't want to trust only in God's grace in Jesus' blood shed to save you, if you want to depend to some extent on your own works, I can't change your heart.  But what skin is it off your nose if I believe that?

I don't understand.

Who's Hiding in the Closet?

So a gay basketball player comes out of the closet and is lauded for it.  In the wake of the announcement, a sports analyst mentions that the Bible says homosexuality is a sin as is any sexual activity outside of marriage.   Oh my goodness -- the horrors of what he said!  The station apologizes.  The sports analyst is forced to apologize.

And then the news release about how the government is looking into enforcing anti-proselytizing regulations, thus forbidding soldiers from telling others about their faith, even to the point of being able to court-martial them.

Wow.

Do Your Sins Pile Up?

Some Christians think that we commit sins, and then we go to confession or go to church or go to the Lord's Supper, and [zap] Jesus wipes away our sins.  And then we go about life, oops, here-a-sin, there-a-sin, everywhere-a-sin-sin.  So we're dirtied up, and we have to go to church to be cleaned up again, ... and the cycle repeats itself.

Pastor often tells us, "NO, that's not what it is."  If it were, that would mean our confessing was the thing meriting God's forgiveness.  Also it would be denying original sin, as if there were days (or hours) (or moments) when we could be spiffied-up and sin-free.  Also it would mean we could have no certainty about our salvation because we could never know whether we'd [oops] sin and then die before having a chance to Get It Fixed At Church (or at least in our personal verbal prayers).  Pastor likes to use an example from a M*A*S*H episode, where Frank Burns is jumping back and forth across the threshold of the tent's door, chanting, "I'm in.  I'm out.  I'm in.  I'm out."  Being in God's grace is not like that; it's not like we're covered by His forgiveness, and then are out, and then are back in after the absolution in the Divine Service, and then back out again next time we lose our temper.

Hearing "I forgive you all your sins" does not mean a pile of sins is erased, brought down to zero-level, before we start piling up sins again.  No.  Because of Jesus' blood shed on the cross, God sees utter perfection, holiness, righteousness, purity.  Going to confession or going to the Lord's Supper doesn't change our status in God's eyes.  What absolution does is to reorient our blind eyes from our navel-gazing, and open our eyes to see ourselves as God sees us, as He declares us to be.

The Express

Ernie Davis -- 1961 Heisman trophy winner -- first black guy to do that.

The movie made a great story.  Gary and I enjoy sports movies.  This had the added themes of history-and-racism, as well as showing a strong family. 

[For those bothered by Language, there is some.  But it's not gratuitous; it's practically necessary with what's happening in the story.]

That Radio Is Driving Me Nuts

So an old heavy-metal rock band is coming out with a new album pretty soon.  On three different days since this song debuted recently, I've been at work listening to the DJ's push this song.  It plays repeatedly!  And it's long.  And very very repetitive.  "God is dead.  God is dead. God is dead."  I tried looking up the lyrics to count how many "God is deads" are in the song.  I couldn't find the lyrics online, but I'm guessing at least five dozen "God is deads" each time this thing gets air-time, which puts me at 200-400 "God is deads" per day.

As I drove home from work, I wondered what would be an appropriate and allowable response.

If I'm not busy I could walk over to the radio and turn down the volume.  I'd have to explain to my partner why, and tell him he could turn the volume back up in eight minutes or so.

I could sing out loud what I've been singing to myself -- a Good Friday hymn.  "O sorrow dread.  Our God is dead, but by His expiation of our guilt upon the cross, gained for us salvation" and subsequent stanzas.

I could sing out loud a response: "He lives, all glory to His name.  He lives, my Jesus still the same.  Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives: I know that my Redeemer lives."

Or I could just continue to bite my lip and pray.  I've listened to shocking and putrid things on that radio station -- both songs and the talk/banter.  But until now I haven't considered anything so drastic as turning off the radio and forcing the other person to listen to the dreaded Quiet.

Third Use of the Law

My friend Cheryl recently pointed out a blog post.  In spite of trying to curtail my computer-time, I went and read.  I clicked on a link in the post, skimmed another blog post, clicked on another link, etc.  Apparently there is (again!) quite the ruckus in the Lutheran blogosphere about the place of "preaching sanctification."  But one thing became apparent to me in the 10 minutes that I bopped around a few sites (that is, before I grabbed control of myself and headed to the laundry room to wash sheets).

Much of the "Woe is us!  We need to preach more sanctification!" is motivated by the decaying culture out there in society.  There's political pressure for homosexual "marriage."  People kill babies unborn ... and born.  Foul language is prevalent.  Sleeping around is common.  Terrorists and madmen go on killing sprees.  This is terrible, and we want it fixed.  If the preachers preached more law, maybe it would change.

It sounds to me like what we're clamoring for is actually more "First Use of the Law."  Not more "third use."  But then again, maybe that's a clue that we don't use the law:  if it's preached, it will function as the Holy Spirit wills.

Garden Report

It's that time of year when we go through a LOT of hand soap, trying (somewhat in vain) to clean hands when we come in from the garden.

Two raised beds have been cleared of overgrown walking-onions, shoveled, fluffed with half-rotted leaves underneath, and the soil on top raked smooth.  A couple of mini-rows of lettuces have been planted.

The compost pile has been turned into a potato bed.  Last year we accidentally grew a nice batch of potatoes from some Yukon Gold that were supposed to be rotting in the compost pile.  Because the compost pile was lighter, airier, fluffier than typical garden dirt, the potatoes grew bigger, cleaner, and prettier-shaped.  Hey, I could use an accident like that again!   So I put a 15" layer of last fall's leaves on top of the compost bed.  In each spot where I was going to plant the potatoes, I put a pint of dried manure, the potato, and another pint of manure.  I then sprinkled a very thin layer of manure across the top of the leaf bed, just to finish off the bag.  On top of that, another 8" of leaves.  On top of that, about 3" of gunk off the burn pile (wood ash, dried leaves, leaf ash, and lovely rich dirt from stuff that had been at the bottom of the pile for a few years).  Now, will it work?  Will I grow a lovely batch of organic potatoes?  Or have I spent my energy today for no food, but just a day outside, enjoying the fresh air and the SUNshine and the birds singing?  Oh, and some sure-to-be-sore muscles.   ;-)

Eighty-percent-dead cherry tree is down.  Gary managed to knock it over without a chainsaw or ax or anything; that poor thing was in sorry shape (and yet somehow still quite productive).  The baby next to it is up and budding. It was a sucker that we left to grow, and for two years it bore fruit just like the parent-tree. 

I gathered the icky, wet, half-rotted, gucky leaves off the garden and put them in black 30-gallon garbage bags.  I hear tell that in the space of several months they should rot into leaf mold.  A)  Now the garden soil can begin drying a bit.  B)  Stunning that I can be so hyped over the prospect of rotting leaves -- woo hoo!

One of the lilacs looked pretty rotted-out too.  So I knocked that over.  Boy howdy, we have a LOT of wood to burn!

A Long Way From Chicago

The whole idea of "coming-of-age novels" makes me want to barf.

But maybe that's because of how those have been written in the wake of the Hippy 60's.

On the other hand, I suppose you could call the Little House books "coming-of-age novels" too, and I'm crazy about those.

A few years ago, a friend insisted we had to read listen to the Richard Peck novels, A Long Way from Chicago and A Year Down Yonder.   The audio-book is read by Ron McLarty ... and is a hoot.  A long car ride recently gave me the opportunity --finally!-- to listen to these stories.  These books are so good (and funny) (and heartwarming) (and great for grown-ups too) that it's almost hard to believe how new they are.

Mom, I think you'd like these.  Because of the Newbery awards, they're widely available in libraries.  And they're set in Piatt County, during the Depression years, with occasional references to places such as Bement and Decatur and Farmer City.  Fun fun fun!

(Warning to Katie, though.  It's not time for you to read them ... just like it's not time for you to be reading Ramona out loud in your house.)

Praying FOR People

I can wash the dishes "for you" because it will benefit you to have clean dishes.  Or I can wash the dishes "for you" because it's your job but I can do it instead of you.

Usually we think of praying "for somebody" something we do on their behalf, something that will benefit them.

But maybe sometimes we also pray "for somebody" by speaking to God prayers as if we were the other guy praying for himself.  Praying "in his stead," as it were.  Putting ourselves in the other guy's shoes and then begging God for what's good for that neighbor.



This may not be the way we usually think of "praying for him."  But maybe it's one of the ways we learn (experientially) about the words "substitutionary" and "vicarious" and "priestly."

Best Thing Ever

Every time we've sung "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" this Easter, I remembered my mother-in-law's funeral.  It was the final hymn.  The casket was escorted out by the funeral director, and the pall bearers (including my sons) followed. 

The guys put their hymnals back in the pew rack and filed out, singing the hymn (from memory) with the rest of the congregation. 

Is there anything in this earthly life that's better than that?

Liturgy as Teacher

How does a pastor know what to say when he's teaching somebody?

I've seen my pastor do it in numerous contexts: teaching from the liturgy.  Somebody is getting married?  My kids tell me he went through the vows and the wedding rite, talking about what it means, what it teaches, what it shows, what God does in that rite.  Or maybe a young pastor wants to know how to be a pastor, what to do.  So Pastor uses the ordination vows as a guideline to discuss the work of a pastor.  Or maybe people have questions about death.  He may start discussing the funeral rites.

I like that.  Not only does the liturgy tell us what we need to know when we're asking, but it also means that every time you're there again (a baptism, a wedding, a first communion, etc) you've got all that fleshed-out and expanded-upon discussion to illuminate what God is doing & saying in those rites.

The Culture's Attitude Toward the Church

Archbishop Francis Cardinal George said a couple of years ago, "I expect to die in bed, my successor will die in prison, and his successor will die a martyr in the public square."

President Matt Harrison quoted this yesterday on Issues Etc and added one more clause: "And his successor will help rebuild from the ashes."

Don't Break the Playmobiles

Zoe (age 2) was playing Playmobiles at our house.  She declared the little brunette to be Alia.  The little red-head was Zoe.  The man was Daddy.  The woman was Mommy.

But Zoe kept yanking at the Mommy's left hand.  "Zoe, don't do that.  You don't want to break the Mommy."  You see, Playmobile aprons come off and on.  Playmobile boots come off and on.  Playmobile hats come off and on.  Zoe was stymied: she could not take the left hand off.  "Mommy.  Hand.  Mommy.  Hand.  Hand.  Off."

Oh.  Sometimes it takes a while for me to get it.

The child finally consented to imagine that the Playmobile-Mommy's hand was off.

Holy Gho... Spiri.... Ghos.... Spirit!

Andrew has scolded me for saying "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost" at the start of prayers.  "Mommmmm, how long is it going to take for you to quit doing that?!"

Last week Maggie was distracted when she said "Holy Ghost" to match what she expected to be my mistake, but I got it right and said "Spirit."  So we clashed anyway.

So I busted a gut when David Scaer (who has a bit of the same problem) mentioned what his pastor told him:
"The Holy Ghost is scary." 



Oh, bad puns.  How I love them!

My Talents

People in their right minds never take pride in their talents.

spoken by Miss Maudie

(end of chapter 10 of To Kill a Mockingbird)

as to why Atticus's children didn't know 

about his awesome on-target shooting skills

Thing is, don't people take pride in their talents?  Miss Maudie's statement makes perfect sense -- our talents have been given to us by God and are nothing to take credit for.  But we do.

Recent Doings

Maggie and I began sewing some aprons last week.  Well, "began" "sewing" I guess.  I bought the fabric months ago.  We pinned and cut out the pieces.  Then it all sat.  Maybe we'll haul out the sewing machine later this week and begin again.

Snow in April.  Over and over.  Bah humbug.

Took all my days off last week to head off to Minnesota.  One evening with Paul and Mandy, enjoying supper and conversation and seeing their workplaces. 

Spent a whole morning relaxing in a Starbucks, all by myself, drinking tea and reading the Formula of Concord in preparation for attending three-quarters of the "It's the Law -- Or Is It?" conference put on by the Association of Confessional Lutherans.   As much as I love my family, my introverted self is yearning for another few days of self-indulgent quiet and reading ... and maybe movies.

Most of the speakers at the conference were great.  Rolf Preus especially.  I intend (?) to blog about my notes, not because anybody out there in cyberspace cares, but because this blog is where I keep my notes for myself.  But boy, I've been doing a lousy job blogging recently.  I want to, but there are other responsibilities.

Thoroughly enjoyed an evening out with friends.  It was an early evening: the other three had early flights that morning, and I was expecting a late night of driving the following evening.  But, oh, dinner was delicious, company was delightful, and conversation was interesting and encouraging.

The drive home from Minnesota was stressful.  My aging body doesn't take long drives well in the first place.  But because of the snowstorm, there was a huge accident with a three-hour delay.  Three hours -- that means by the time I hit Wisconsin, I should have been well over halfway home.  This is the rare instance when a person begins to wonder about GPS...   (No, I don't want GPS.  When we've used Andrew's, it kind of drives me nuts.  Ha ha ... drives me nuts.....)

Little girls are coming over tonight for a sleep-over.  Nathan has surgery tomorrow to remove one of the pins in his broken-but-healing ankle, and it will be early.

An attack of Murphy's Law:  A mere two hours after cleaning the oven, the meatloaf fat spilled over the edge of the pan and smoked up the kitchen.  Two weeks later, pizza-cheese fell off the pizza and burned onto the bottom of the oven, smoking up the kitchen.  Hey!  That'll teach me to clean the oven!!

New plan I should try for my goofing-off-on-computer time:  what if I went on Facebook only once a week?  Being away from the computer, I determined to catch up on FB this afternoon, but do it quickly, with light skimming.  Not exactly like exercising self-control as I ought, but it might be a better use of time without cutting off contact with loved ones who aren't Right Here In Person.

Oh, Poop!

Stealing a story that my son-in-law told about my granddaughters recently:


Alia and Zoe wouldn't stop talking about poop.  So Dad finally put an end to it: "No more using the word poop!"

Alia wanted to know if they could talk about pee.  No, that wasn't acceptable either.  

Could they talk about food?  Of course.
Could they talk about people?  Why, yes. 

"Well, you know, Daddy, when food goes through people it becomes ..."

Bye-Bye Van

Over two years ago, the transmission on the van started slipping.  Then there was a slight leak in the exhaust system.  That leak became a hole that made the van roar with the noise of a small airplane.

This past week we found a Corolla and bought it (even without taking it to our mechanic for a once-over ... still afraid that we may come to regret that).  The jury is still out on whether the new car will be driven primarily by Andrew or Gary.  They're probably going to trade back and forth until they decide.

The junk man came to haul away the van this weekend.  It is entirely unreasonable how sad it made me to see the van leave.  I had to fight back tears.  We owned it for 13 years; we took it on vacations; we drove it on gazillions of errands; we no longer have a vehicle with which to haul small furniture or bicycles.  Even though it was in cruddy shape, I miss it.  That's dumb, but that's the way it is.

Oh, Foolish Ones

When Jesus meets the disciples on the road to Emmaus that Sunday afternoon, they tell Him everything that had happened that weekend.  They had all the facts: their teacher's death, an empty tomb, women who heard a message from angels, Peter and John seeing that the body was missing.  "Too bad He didn't turn out to be the redeemer as we'd hoped." 

And Jesus tells them, "Oh, foolish ones and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken."  And then He proceeded to tell them AGAIN what the Old Testament taught about the Messiah.  And He proceeds to preach the Gospel to them.  He proceeds to tell them about the forgiveness won in the blood of the Messiah to save sinners.

Do you have that kind of patience when people are that tuned out to what you've been telling them?  I sure don't. 

When I am foolish and slow of heart to believe, Jesus doesn't scold.  He doesn't reason.  And He certainly doesn't give up in frustration because I didn't believe Him before.  He treats us just as He treated the Emmaus disciples.

He gives more.
And forgives yet again.

Purging and Cleaning and De-Cluttering, Oh My!

Why is there such a huge internal struggle between "We could use this" and "We need this"?  It's easy for my head to know which is which.  But to get rid of something we "could use" is a booger!

Skittle Bowl

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

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

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

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

Snow

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

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

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


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

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Well, I sure was schnookered by that review.

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

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

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

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

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

Chilly Easter

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

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

Yoo hoo!  Spring?  Where are you?




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

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

They Didn't Love Him Back

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

Bad stuff.  Painful stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

"Funny" to Forgive Somebody?

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

The Power of Baptism

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

What would this say about baptism?

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

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

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

The Couch of Recuperation

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

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

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

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

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



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

Holy Week

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

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

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

And here's why:

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

-- an excerpt from tonight's sermon

Oh, Those Brits

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

Those Pronouns

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

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

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

Rethinking What It Is To "Be Nice"

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

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

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

Amazing.

Pun Gone Wrong

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

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

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

Oh.  Yes.  That's it!

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

Round Loaves of Bread

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

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

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

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

Synergism

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

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

Cardiology

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

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

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

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

Drink of It, ALL of You?

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

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

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

Velcro Paws

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

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

Saving Money in the Kitchen

Time is money, they say.

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

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

Idiots!

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

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

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

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

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

Toward Perfection

Admit it.  We're two-faced about perfectionism.  We say it's bad for us.  We say it's stressful.  We say, "Well, nobody can be perfect."  And yet, if we're not compelling ourselves to be perfect, we've got those teachers and bosses pushing us toward being perfect, always setting the goals higher and higher.  Once we reach the first goal, then a new goal is set.  There's no contentment, no resting, in a job well done.  Or in significant improvement.

Why is it, the closer we get to perfection, the more we're aware of our imperfection?  A kid who scores C's and B's on his tests won't flip out when he sees "C-" on his test.  But the kid who earns A's will freak over a B.  And the kid who scores 99% will be upset over a "lousy" grade like 96%.  Same thing at work.  The goal for the team is to eliminate backlogged work.  But no matter how much they improve over the year, no matter how many cases they resolve, it's never enough -- it's never perfect.  But the drive for it to be perfect is more compelling when the goal isn't as far out of reach. 

The closer we get to perfection, the more we yearn to have it.

With regard to civic righteousness, striving for perfection can drive a person bonkers and hike his blood pressure.  But with regard to religion, it can become damning if we determine that more effort on our part can get us to where we measure up.

Stuff

1. My son-in-law Nathan underwent surgery on his ankle yesterday. He fell on ice in the parking lot, resulting in two fractures in his joint as well as messing up his tendon. (Or was it ligament?  I can never keep those two straight.)  No walking for ten weeks. No driving either, as it's his right foot.

2. I waited too long to go to the theatre. I wanted SO badly to see Les Miserables. All my friends told me how fabulous it was. I have freebie tickets hanging on the bulletin board, with precious little in the theatre I have any interest in seeing. I figured I could happily go see Les Mis more than once. But recent events have prevented a trip out to indulge myself. Today I tried finding a theatre that was still showing it. No go. Bummers.

3. Next Sunday we'll be singing "In Thee Alone, O Christ, My Lord" and Gerhardt's "I Will Sing My Maker's Praises." Ah! I will spend all week looking forward to it!!!  (Is that too weird, that superb hymns bring so much relief and joy?)

4. I was chatting yesterday with a co-worker (who's majoring in psychology and Japanese) about the difference in my granddaughters. At age 4, Alia has very little ability to put herself in another's shoes. That's really not abnormal; she's young. But at age 1 1/2 Zoe was already watching out for others, trying to console sad people, and showing compassion.  My co-worker said that's highly unusual (and it is); she said kids don't start learning that until age 8 or so.  Age 8?  Hmm.  That's not what I see.  I wonder if it makes a difference if they are baptized Christians, united with the One who is mercy?

5.  I finally started watching Downton Abbey.  Oh. my. goodness.  It's so good!!!

Reading Challenge: Update

"A Little Help from My Friends"
Reading Challenge

Get a list of book suggestions from your friends.  From those suggestions choose between five and ten books that you will read in 2013.  Make a list of the books that you will read and a few alternates.
And the other instructions can be found on Jane's site.

My list:
Anne of Green Gables   by L. M. Montgomery  January 24
Anne of Avonlea   (these two with Maggie) February 24
Mara, Daughter of the Nile   by Eloise Jarvis McGraw
Love Divine   by Alan Kornacki
Mitford's Out to Canaan    by Jan Karon
Christ Have Mercy   by Matt Harrison


The list that someone else made for me:
Lutheran Catechesis   by Bender Dec 27, 2012
Old Testament Catechesis   by Bender March 1
New Testament Catechesis    by Bender
Bible Stories for Daily Prayer    by Fabrizius



Alternates:
Kristin Lavransdatter  by Sigrid Undset
To Kill a Mockingbird   by  Harper Lee
Luther, the Reformer   by James Kittelson
The Right to Be Wrong   by Seamus Hasson
On Being a Theologian of the Cross   by Forde
Luther on Vocation   by Wingren



Well, I've never before set up a reading challenge for myself.  Many of my friends do so annually.  I am jealous.  But Jane has devised a teeny-tiny reading challenge (possibly just to encourage me, because she loves me).  I may not be up to the challenge; I may fail.  BUT I have a shot at it -- unlike most reading challenges which are entirely out of the realm of possibility.  Unless I want to quit homeschooling, quit cooking, quit cleaning, quit choir, quit gardening, and quit editing.  And I don't wanna quit those things.  So Mini Reading Challenge, here I come!

Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

What's the hymn that Mick Jagger sings? "I can't get no satisfaction.  'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try...."

Yep.  That should've been the song of the prodigal son (Luke 15).  He wasn't satisfied with his father and his home.  He asked for his inheritance from a not-dead-yet father.  But it turned out that didn't satisfy him either.  Nobody in the far-off country cared about him.  He was hungry; nobody fed him; nobody shared.  Nobody cared.  He couldn't even be satisfied by eating the pigs' slop. 

When we cannot find satisfaction, we search.  We might try different jobs, different toys, different friends, different homes, different who-knows-what.  We are constantly bouncing from one thing to the next: maybe the next place/thing/person will finally please us, satisfy us, fulfill us. 

But it never does.

We keep trying.  Even with [or because of?] the speed of new technology and the vast luxuries available to Americans, yet we keep finding that the Greatest New Thing (tooth whitener, iPhone, or gaming system) didn't bring us the pleasure it promised.  Even with [or because of?] the plethora of fun entertainment available, we are bored.  Even with [or because of?] the ease of casting off uncomfortable relationships and starting new ones, we cannot settle down in fulfilling relationships. 


Augustine said:

"The heart is restless

until it finds its rest in Thee."

Whom have I in heaven but You?
And there is none on earth I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  (Psalm 73)

Thou art the portion I have sought.
Thy precious blood my soul has bought.  (LSB 708)




Logically, it doesn't make sense to keep fighting against the one thing --the only thing-- that can give joy, satisfaction, fulfillment, love, pleasure.  And yet, we see the rebellion all the time.

Kitchen Dancing

"Have you practiced this week?" the dancing instructor asks each week.  No, we haven't.  It's hard to practice when we don't see each other much. 

The local rec league offered ballroom dance classes, which some friends wanted to take.  But alas, too few couples enrolled; the class was in danger of being cancelled.  So they went on a recruiting mission.  That's how Gary and I ended up in dance classes for January and February.  Because of his mom's death and his dad's surgery, however, Gary missed two of the first four classes, and we're still playing catch-up.

So this week, we have [gasp] actually SEEN each other.  Y'know, been in the same place at the same time!  And we've looked at our cheat-sheet, tried to practice, and hunted up you-tube instructional videos to refresh what I couldn't decipher from our class notes.

Poor kitty.  The kitchen floor space is a whoppin' 5x10' area.  Rosie is wandering around the kitchen, begging snacks, looking to be petted, and she ends up getting bumped, trying to escape, and heading right back into the path of where we're ostensibly dancing.  Who would've thunk it would be hard to foxtrot and tango in 50 sq-ft of space?  With a cat tango-ing betwixt your feet? 

Righteousness

Righteousness is nothing else than believing God when He makes a promise. 

(Luther, on Genesis 15:6)

Based on Sunday's sermon, I think this phrase might be Pastor's new favorite-saying for the upcoming weeks or months.  I love it when he finds gems like this and makes sure we get it.  Aaaah.

Posture

Is it harder to stand up straight when you're tired and weary? 

I've been noticing people.  I can't tell if it's just my imagination, or if attitude really does show in a person's shoulder and posture.

Save the Soothsayers

For real? 

But that's what Daniel did.  (Yup, Daniel.  As in "Daniel in the lions' den."  That Daniel.)

The story is in Daniel 2.  Nebuchadnezzar had a dream.  He wanted the interpretation.  But he knew the sorcerers and magicians could lie and make up any old explanation for the dream.  So the king said, "You tell me the dream first.  Then tell me what it means."    Of course, they all flipped out.   So the king said, "Kill 'em all." 

Daniel heard.  He too would be executed.  He and his friends prayed.  God told Daniel the dream and what it meant.  So Daniel went to the executioner and said, "Wait!  Don't kill all those magicians.  I will tell the king what he wants to know." 

These dudes didn't deserve to be saved.  They were false prophets.  They were astrologers and fortune tellers.  These were the kind of people that God had told the Israelites to kill when they went into Canaan many centuries earlier.  But here's Daniel in Babylon, saving their hides, showing mercy to them.


There are people who think this country has gone to hell in a handbasket.  I've talked to Christian friends who think that both the nation and the church are in such a pitiful state that it would be better for the destruction to just come and be done with it already.  If the country's going to fall apart, they say, the sooner the better.  That way (they say) the healing can start sooner.  Who cares about salvaging anything (they say)?  Who cares about compromise?  We should stick to our guns and hold out for the ideal.  Wouldn't it be better to wipe out what's been marred and make a fresh start?

But godly Daniel showed mercy to those who didn't deserve it.  Godly Daniel served Nebuchadnezzar who was appointed by God to raze Jerusalem. 

What's that we pray?  That we would have peace in our land so that the word of God "may have free course and be preached to the joy and edifying" of His people?  Maybe the country is falling apart.  Maybe the country doesn't deserve to continue.  Maybe the country spites the Lord.  But does that mean Christians want to see it smashed?  No!  If Christians are to be Christlike, they will pray for mercy for those who don't deserve it, for those who don't appreciate it, for those who will even [sigh] abuse it.  And they will be thankful that the word of God continues to be preached, so that more people might be saved before any catastrophe arrives.

After all, those Magi that came to worship Jesus when He was a baby, those guys learned about the Lord from somewhere.  The Magi had not been wiped out in Daniel's day.  Daniel pleaded for them.  He went on to live a life of suffering in the midst of a country of unbelievers. And five centuries later, we see faith in some of those magicians from The East. 

Whose Side Is God On Anyway?

You know those old stories.  Elijah's ministry was finished.  Elisha was the prophet.  Israel wouldn't listen.  God was trying to get their attention.  The Syrian army had been attacking.  Then the little Israelite slave girl tells her master about the prophet who could heal him  of his leprosy (2 Kings 5).  So Naaman, the commander of the enemy, heads off to Israel and is eventually healed.

Seriously?  God helps the guy who's in charge of attacking His people?  Seems weird.  But, hey, God does weirdly-generous, merciful things.

But then look at the next chapter.  The Syrian king is hacked off at the "spy."  Turns out there is no spy, feeding insider information from the Syrian boss-guys to the Israelites.  It's just God telling Elisha what's coming.  And that's how the Israelite army avoids one attack after the next!*   Summing up, first God gave Naaman victory over Israel.  Then God gave Naaman healing from leprosy.  But then God thwarted Naaman (or his successor) and protected Israel's armies and villages.

I think God's plans in the temporal affairs of mankind just don't jive with what we think God should be up to.



* Footnote:  Amazing, ain't it, that the Israelite king can make use of what Elisha says when it comes to strategic positioning of his army (knowing that Elisha speaks the truth) and yet blow off whatever else Elisha says.

Squeamish about Using Credit Cards Online?

Gift cards.

Yup, that's the answer.

If you're nervous about the thought of putting your credit-card number out there in cyberspace, Visa gift cards can solve the problem. Our bank sells the cards for a $3 fee, and you can buy a card with any value up to $1000. Many banks sell these cards, and you can even buy them at grocery stores and department stores too. Some people use the gift cards as [gasp] gifts. Some use them as pre-paid "credit" if regular credit is unattainable. And some use them specifically for online purchases. If you want to shop at Amazon, say, you can buy a $200 card (for $203) and use the gift-card only for online shopping. Or maybe you know you want to buy a book that will cost $13 with its shipping, so you spend $16 for the $13 card. One way requires more money upfront that may sit around unused for a while; the other way eats up more in fees. But either way eliminates risk to your credit and identity.

God Is Weird

Are you frugal enough to take batteries out of a energy-hogging machine and test them, in case they still have enough oomph to run something simpler, oh, say, a remote control or a small alarm clock?  I am.  I don't want to waste the batteries.  I buy them to do a job for me.  I don't value the batteries for their own selves, but only for the work I get out of them.

It seems that much of American Christendom believes that God's love is like a battery.  He gives us His love only so that He can put us to work serving Him.  His love is what's supposed to ignite us.  So then we wonder: If we don't do our work effectively, will He withdraw His love and His grace so that it's not wasted?  After all, that's what I do with batteries. 

But maybe, just maybe, God isn't like me.

The parables in the Gospels keep showing us that God is weird.  He doesn't do things the way we'd expect; He doesn't interact with us the way that we interact with each other.

In 1 Peter 3:18, we read that "Christ suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust."

The just for the unjust???

That's weird.  That's not fair.  It doesn't seem right.

It's just plain wasteful.  Who would rescue unjust people by giving the Just One?

It's like He cares about us because of the love that pours forth out of His heart, and not because of some warped idea of using His love to manipulate us into doing what He wants.  No, that would be more like us people to do. 

The just for the unjust!

Faking It in English

Because the word-verification system made it hard for my mom to comment on my blog, I removed it.  Whoa -- I started seeing spammy comments that seldom made it through when the captcha was operating.  So now my blog is set to require my approval of any comments before they appear online.

Yowza!  My mailbox is filling up with spam.  There are more ad-comments submitted than real comments.  Most of them try to flatter me into approving their comments.  And the English is atrocious.  It can be funny how bad it is.

Some examples:


~I like what I see so i am just adhering to you.

Band-aids?


~Hello! Your article rocks as well as becoming a respectable amazing realize!??

Well, who'd want a "realize" which isn't respectable?



~It is the best time to make some plans for the future and it is time to be happy.  I have read this put up and if I may I wish to recommend you few fascinating issues or advice. 

A put up?  
And I see he has only a few fascinating issues to recommend.




~Do you mind if I quote a few of your posts as long as I provide credit and sources back to your site?  My blog site is in the exact same niche as yours. 

So this one has proper English.  But the link being advertised later in the comment had nothing whatsoever to do with anything I write about.  Do some people fall for this line?



~I thіnk thiѕ iѕ among the such a lot impoгtant info for me. 

Huh?




~Preserve up the terrific works men I've incorporated you fellas to my private blogroll.

Huh? again.  





~I personally experienced a number of intricacies employing this website.   I became asking yourself when your website hosting is OK? 

I have no idea what it is to "experience intricacies."  And there's no telling what word "became" was confused for.  



The spam-for-smut annoys me.  But some of the rest of it can be a hoot.

 

Sad Children

As I was checking out of the grocery store today, a woman was sitting nearby, holding a sobbing child.  A couple of people inquired if there were anything they could do to help, but the response was a gentle and caring "Thank you, but she's just having a bad day."  I assumed the little girl was having a tantrum because mom didn't buy the cookies she wanted, or it was getting to be naptime and the child was having a meltdown.  You know -- nothing to be concerned about.  Something that all parents cope with.

By the time my groceries were loaded into the car and I'd returned my cart, the sniffling preschooler and the woman were walking out to their car parked next to mine.  Turns out the child wanted her mommy!  And the woman was assuring her that she'd "see Mommy after she's done working." 

We think it's normal and acceptable for mommies to leave their children to go to work.  Yes, sometimes it's necessary.  But the child's tears should teach us something.

Valentine's Day

So, I anticipate seeing Facebook posts and blogposts about the wonderful dinners y'all ate and the fun things you did to celebrate.  Our Valentine's Day solidifies the proof that we are aging and practical fuddy-duddies.

I was planning to take Andrew* to urgent care, but was lucky to find our doctor had an opening in the morning.  This was followed by a trip to the pharmacist.  Gary had a bad day at work.  I fell asleep mid-afternoon reading schoolwork with Maggie.  Supper was beans and cornbread.  No chocolate, no cake, no cookies, no treats -- we can't being doin' sugar when we're still fighting off the germies.  (When will this end and we're no longer treading on the edge of the cliff?)

We did, however, go to our dance class.  Dancing.  For Valentine's Day.  At least that 50 minutes of the day sounds decidedly romantic.  Truth be told, it was more exercise than beautiful dancing.  But we'll go with romantic.  It sounds better that way.


* Footnote: Nasty ear infection.  It's improving, and he probably will have managed to avoid a ruptured eardrum. 

Vote Next Tuesday

Next Tuesday (February 19) is the primary for Wisconsin State Supreme Court Justice. 

1) There's a clear difference in the candidates.
2) The court is currently divided 4-3, with the "4th" being the seat that's contested this spring.  This election will determine the court majority. 
3)  Pat Roggensack (the incumbent) has voted in a more conservative, "strict constructionist" direction.  Her opponents are more of the "big government" variety.

VOTE on Tuesday!
Put it on your calendar.
Or go "early vote" this week.
Vote Roggensack.



(PS: Katie, you've also got a primary for Assemblyman. We'll bring the paper's interviews with the candidates to church.  Although newspaper comparisons seldom give me the information I want.)

Update

I miss Gary.  He's been in Illinois 11 days of the last month.  His dad fell a week ago and had repair-surgery last weekend.  Today he moved into the nursing home for therapy.  Gary was there to help with the transition and to get more detail-stuff wrapped up. 

Snow, snow, snow.  As tired as we've been recently, I am SO thankful for the snow-blower.

I whipped up two Real Meals [whole foods; made from scratch] this week, things that were quick and easy, and earned two nights full of compliments from the satisfied diners.  Oh no, I'm building up their expectations again ....

I love sitting down and reading Anne with Maggie.  It's so pleasant and I wish there weren't so many responsibilities that get in the way.  Maggie has been doing much more, though, to help with chores and projects recently.

When you're regularly in a public place (uh, that would be at work) you get spoiled by the warmth.  Then 67 feels mighty cold at home. 

I'm ready for July.

Rotten Potatoes

That distinctive odor.  I can smell it in the pantry as soon as it starts.  So you grab the bag of potatoes, dump them all out, and find the one that's starting to decay. 

So does anybody know how to avoid getting a bag with a rotten potato?  I look the bags over before I choose one to put in my grocery cart.  My nose theoretically could sniff it out, but when I'm in the produce section by the potatoes, I always smell rotten ones.  How do you know which bags are clean and which have an on-their-way-to-putrid specimen?

Glorifying God

Glory.  

Big shiny powerfulness?  
Mighty awesomeness?

Pastor's always saying that God's glory is in His love, in His self-sacrifice, in His condescension for the sake of saving us.  Jesus is always talking about "His hour" to be glorified, and it turns out to be His suffering, death, and resurrection.

And there's the wrestling within me: Is His glory really about His suffering and death?  Isn't it about whoopin' the devil and triumphing in the resurrection and ascension?  Isn't His death just something to "get past" on the way to real glory? 

But look at what happens a few weeks later.  The disciples are out fishing and they see Jesus on the shore.  They bring the boats back to land and eat breakfast with Jesus.  Then Peter and Jesus go for that little walk and have that little chat: "Simon, do you love Me?" And the story ends with Jesus description of what would happen to Peter near the end of his life.  And then,
 

"This He spoke, signifying by what death he would glorify God" (John 21:19).

Excuse me?
Peter's death would do what?

Glorify God?

Hmmm.  Puts a new spin on what "glory" is, huh?
 

Knots in the Neck

Those pains in the neck?  I'm too tall; our back massager cannot reach them.   As I sat reading to Maggie, I tried contorting into weird positions, slumping down, anything so that the massager could hit parts of my neck.  I kept wishing there was a way to make it work.

And the next night, I walk into Aldi for produce and, lo and behold, they had a neck massager.  Not only Aldi-priced, but clearance priced.  Less than the co-pay for one doctor/chiropractor visit.  I nabbed it.  It was a hasty decision.  I detest hasty decisions!  But boy oh boy, that little contraption sure does help.