Quiet

1. The book I'm reading about introverts and extroverts is full of stories.  More stories than research.  Anecdotal evidence doesn't bother me.  I usually enjoy stories.


2.  But one of the stories is about Al Gore and his passionate work to save the world from global warming.  Or climate change.  Or whatever we're calling it these days.  The author makes the point that Mr Gore worked doggedly on this issue for decades.  Few people listened to him because he is an introvert and doesn't make his case in a splashy way that draws the attention of extroverts.  She pointed out that Gore's movie finally woke up people to the danger we're in, so we're finally taking seriously the necessity to save the planet.

Normally, I will read such things and shake my head in disbelief.  I may crab about it a bit.  (Or more.)  And then I'll go on, taking the good parts of the book and ignoring the bad.  But this kind of book?  If the author believes the global warming and climate change are real, can I believe other things she says? 


3.  To add to my skepticism, she characterized the "Western God" as an extrovert, as seen in Jesus Christ Superstar where God's "son Jesus is kind and tender, but also a charismatic, crowd-pleasing man of influence."

Okay, maybe the Lord is an extrovert.  (What He's all about is giving Himself to others, pouring Himself out for us.)    But the author's source for this insight?

For real?  Jesus Christ Superstar?


4.  I did like the section on sensitivity, conscience, and guilt.  Apparently, introverts tend to feel guilty even when they've done nothing wrong.  They tend to feel embarrassed themselves when friends are teased.  They may fail lie-detector tests even when they're telling the truth. 

Story:  One day my brother and I came home from grade school on our lunch-hour. David and I watched one kid walking on the other side of the street take off his jacket.  Then he swung it at another kid, whipping him again and again.  That day Dad was working nearby so he happened to be home for lunch too.  As we told the story of the mean boy, Dad got mad.  He was angry at the kid for hurting the other child.  He went on and on about how the jacket-zipper could have cut the other child or injured an eye.  As an adult, I realize that everything Dad said that day was reasonable.  But in the midst of the situation, I felt accused.  I remember spouting, "Why are you mad at us?  We didn't do anything wrong!  We didn't hit anybody!"  Poor Dad.  He probably wondered where I came up with such a statement. 

And thus, the section about introverts feeling excess guilt resonated with me.

Queen of Heaven

Jeremiah calls the people to repentance for their offerings and their prayers to the "queen of heaven," Asherah.

It seems very odd that the Roman Catholic church would choose that phrase as a title for Mary, given the scriptural use of the term to refer to a false goddess.

Back to Work

A full year to recuperate.  That's what the doctors and therapists kept telling me as I progressed speedily in my abilities. "Slow down; don't overdo," they kept reminding.  Although I can do almost everything I could do before, I now realize I can't do very much of any of those things.  I wear out easily.  I slept 10.5 hours last night.  When Katie dropped by today, she was surprised by how clean the house was and that the laundry was caught up.  [light bulb click]  No wonder I was too tired to accomplish anything the last couple of days; I was worn out from the first half of the week.

When I found out that another part-time position would be opening at work, I adjusted my mind to taking that position while my boss filled my position.  That would've meant I had until late September before I had to be ready to work.  Recently that goal seemed perfectly doable; probably in mid-September it would've seemed intimidating.  After talking with bosses this week, it looks like I'll be returning to my job much sooner.  As in, a week or so.  For now, it will be only half-days.  And my boss made it very plain that he doesn't want me to get worn out so that the job interferes with my healing ... or even that it makes me consider quitting.  They are bending over backwards to help me keep my job.

And I'm terribly grateful.
Especially because I much prefer my current schedule to the other option.

But right now I'm also a bit hesitant about going back to work already.

It'll be fine.
It'll be fine.
It'll be fine.

I just have to readjust my mind away from all those books Maggie and I were going to read, and movies I was going to watch, and piddly projects I was going to tick off the list, over the next 2-3 months.  Sleep, however, will stay near the top of the Priorities List.


(PS to kids: I'm going to need some chauffeuring for a few weeks.  Andrew can take the first week.  But I'll need at least two more weeks of rides before I'm eligible to drive.)

My Old Backyard

Disturbing to see our former backyard splashed all over this week's news.

Two boys were playing in the tree-line on Wednesday.  One was shot.  The most recent news reports have the uncle saying that the boys were target-shooting, and the victim ran across the line-of-fire.   The WISN story is here, and the WTMJ story is here. 

I did almost nothing on Thursday except for checking the news and trying to understand how this could happen in "my space" and feeling vulnerable.  But that's nothing compared to the grief both families are enduring.

Tree Trimming

I'm too old and weak for the lumberjack-drill.

A few years ago, I trimmed branches overhanging the roof and the power lines.  Gary held the ladder; I climbed too high; I wielded the lonnng-handled saw.  Other than some achy muscles on both our parts, there were no mishaps.  And I tell ya, I am still pleased and proud of the results.  Oh yes!!

But I didn't finish the job.  I had no intention of coming into contact with electrical lines.  I didn't even want to go too near the cable lines ... because then I would've been disconnected from the internet ... which would make me pout.

Recently, the landlord next door had trucks in the backyard.  A cherry-picker!  And carts to haul brush and logs!  And lots of chainsaws!  At the end of Day 1, Gary talked to the tree-trimmers about doing some extra work while they were out here with their equipment.  They quoted us a price 1/3 what we'd been quoted a few years ago! (Hey, the benefits of grabbing Mr Muscle while his tools and machines are already in the backyard!)


This tree was my biggest worry.  It grew as a weed, way out in back, bordering the unused meadow, and nobody took it down.  Its branches wove back and forth between the three lines (cable, phone, and electricity).  Without a cherry-picker, there was no way to cut without knocking down lines.

These branches looked like they might be within the realm of possibility.  Maybe.  If I was feeling strong.  And being very very careful.  Tree branches had crawled in odd weavy directions.  If I'd tackled it when we first moved in, the branch may have been small enough to use my pruning saw.  Maybe.  But by now the branch-diameter was too overwhelming for something so high above my head.  And the weight had grown enough that it was no longer merely touching the electrical lines, but was pulling down on them.  Yeah, not my forte when I'm at my best and strongest.  (And I'm not exactly at my best and strongest right now.)

I can't post a picture of the improvement of the first problem.  Because the tree is GONE.  Yes, it's gone.  It's a pile o' logs and nothing more.  No more weaving and dancing and tangling in the electrical lines.  Oh, happy day!

The tree below is what's left of the second problem.  From this direction, it looks like the tree is still too close to the cables.  Well, not really.  There's a nice amount of space.  But what's more important -- what's left are branches that we can trim without destroying power lines, assuming we don't delay too many years.

And this mess is the wild grape vines that have grown up on the scrub-trees.  The grapes took root, grew, climbed, then crawled along the power lines to take over the pole for the power lines and begin spreading out.  These are not on our property, and they've grown unmolested for many years.  The neighbors did give us permission to hack back whatever we choose to cut.

I can see in this picture that the tree-trimmers did pull down a lot of grape vines that were within their reach, or which were engulfing branches that were chopped away. So it's better. But there's a long way to go. 

Job #1: Take down all the 6' weeds/trees that are anywhere near the power lines.  And keep taking them down.  If we murder them when they're small, we won't face huge tree-trimming problems when we're 80.

Job #2: Cutting back the tall grasses so that we can reach the bottom of the grape vines ... without inadvertently stepping on snakes, woodchucks, or whatever else may be living back there.

Job #3:  Whacking off the grape vines and taking a hefty chunk out of the branch.  If the smaller viney guys are disconnected from the strong roots and branches, eventually they'll wither, dry, crumble, and then storms will blow their remains off the cables.  At least, that's my hope.

Job #4: Some day in the future ... begin removing some of those bigger branches that are not a problem now.  They will grow twigs which will eventually becomes branches which will cause new problems.  Maybe one branch per year would be an achievable project?  Starting next year?

Weird Tasks

WHY am I compelled to tackle these things right now?!  (Or requesting the kids do it?)

~Scrubbing the ceiling-fan blades with a toothbrush to get them all-the-way clean instead of just dusted.

~Vacuuming the backs and underneath-sides of the dressers.

~Scrubbing the floor behind the computer desk and the back side of the desk.

~Washing the handrail on the basement stairs.

~Cleaning out drains in the bathrooms.

~Vacuuming the tops of the encyclopedias, as well as all the bookshelves in the living room.

~Vacuuming the living-room upholstery.

~Vacuuming cobwebs from the basement ceiling.

~Cleaning behind and under the stove and refrigerator.

~Washing the kitchen windows and screens.


Maybe it's because I haven't done spring cleaning since we moved into this house.
Maybe it's because I lay in bed for several weeks and did no cleaning, and now I'm trying to catch up.
Maybe it's because I know that, once I go back to work, I'm not going to be able to do any of this because the job will take all the energy I have.
Maybe it's because some of these jobs are so overdue that they're interfering with the simple everyday cleaning, and they Must Be Done.
Maybe it's because some of these jobs are small enough that I've got the strength to do them (in between the times I sit on the phone, on hold, for long periods, "resting up" while I deal with hospital bills and insurance).



Right now, the house is clean, the lawn is mowed, the laundry is caught up.  I cannot drive, so shopping, visiting, and other errands are not possible.  I may have to do something fun ... and do it without guilt over all the other things I "should" be doing.  Wow.

Not to worry, though.  Things will get dirty.  Soon enough I'll have more house-cleaning and laundry to do.

Lettuce, Orthaheels, and Hair

Planted lettuce yesterday.  It's the wrong time of year to plant lettuce.  I don't think the weather has noticed, though.

My apple trees, which haven't been bearing, grew some baby apples this year.  The tree with only two apples lost them.  But the other tree has a small crop we're hoping for.

My hair is long enough now that I occasionally have to brush it.  That's not really saying much, though, as my dad-who-always-had-a-crewcut brushed his hair every day.  But it's a step in the right direction!

My shoes -- my awesome shoes that are the only thing which make my feet not hurt -- my beloved shoes which are better than prescription insoles -- my shoes have been discontinued.  The technology for them was bought by another company, but customer reviews report that the support is just not the same.  So I bought all the rest of the old version that Amazon still had in my size.  Also, the new company doesn't make any versions without the toe strap -- in other words, none that I can wear to work when my current work-pair finally is no more.  I'm trying not to let this sink into my brain; it would be far too discouraging to realize what this means.  I can only hope that these shoes will be manufactured again before my new stash wears out.

Personality Trumps Character

James Davison Hunter, in The Death of Character: Moral Education in an Age Without Good or Evil

We say we want a renewal of character in our day but don't really know what we ask for.  To have a renewal of character is to have a renewal of a creedal order that constrains, limits, binds, obligates, and compels.  This price is too high for us to pay.  We want character but without conviction; we want strong morality but without the emotional burden of guilt or shame; we want virtue but without particular moral justifications that invariably offend; we want good without having to name evil; we want decency without the authority to insist upon it; we want moral community without any limitations to personal freedom.  In short, we want what we cannot possibly have on the terms that we want it.  (Found in "A Continual Feast" by Jan Karon)

Funny how I ran across this quote shortly after reading the first chapter of Quiet.

Happy Picutres

These pictures from the fund-raising auction in February were finally downloaded off the camera.  Rachel, Matt, and Maggie with his mom in the top photo, and then with me in the bottom photo.

It was a fun day with superb company!

Psalm 103:7

He made know His ways to Moses,
His acts to the children of Israel.

One perspective of God's ways:
God's way is to smash people who don't listen.
God's way is to give rules.

Another perspective of God's ways:
God says, "My people be protected from the calamities coming."
God says, "My people shall have light in the darkness."
God says, "My people shall be rescued when they are trapped."
God says, "My people shall eat the bread of heaven."
God says, "I forgive them and call them My own even though they are ... umm ... well, look at them.  I love them even though they are the rebellious mess they are."

Pretty Bridesmaid

Periwinkle.
Simple pattern.
Decent and proper.
White trim, white shoes, and pearls.

I was prepping the pattern, adjusting it to fit Maggie properly.  Then I crashed and Kristine took over the sewing so I didn't have to worry about the dress.  Oh, what a sweetie she is!

Personally, I think it looks classy.  Kristine did a great job.  And it's a dress that can be worn for regular Sundays instead of hanging in the closet with a "Bridesmaid Only" label. 

Screen Kleen

The little green roller beckoned to me while I was standing in line last year at the local hardware store.  It promised to make cleaning the window-screens a simple, easy task. 

Now, I don't know about you.  But I don't often clean my screens.  Maybe once a decade.  And they get nasty when you have a fan sitting in the window, running, all summer.  But cleaning the screens?  What a pain!  So they stay dirty too too often. 

So I splurged.  I bought the ScreenKleen kit. 

It sat in the closet.

For some reason, right now I am feeling in need of cleaning in the corners, behind furniture, underneath things.  I even got a toothbrush and Murphy's Oil Soap and scrubbed the nasty edge of a ceiling fan.  I never did that before in my life!  (Maybe these little jobs are my way of procrastinating on the big everyday jobs that I'm too weak to tackle?)  The other day, I couldn't see out the kitchen window.  There was tree-trimming going on next door.  And I couldn't tell if there were damaged trees from the recent storm, or if these were preventive measures to get branches away from power lines before the next storm. 

You know what?  If you cannot see out the window, it's probably time to clean the window. 

One window?  That should only take a few minutes.  I have energy enough for that.  But the clean glass made the screen look awful.  I tried the ScreenKleen.  It worked.  Oh man, it worked great!  Easy to do!  Effective!  Easy to clean up and put away the supplies (as opposed to stowing the hose and scrub-brushes and screwdrivers and putting screens back into the windows). 

The ScreenKleen kit worked so wondrously that I cleaned other screens later in the day.  I may even do some more.

The only thing I don't know is about its longevity.  The kit comes with two rollers.  They can be washed and re-used.  But for how long?  (I'm hoping a good long time, because this tool may make it possible for me to have non-disgusting screens for the first time in my life.)

Quiet -- chapter 1

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking,
by Susan Cain


My friend, Lora, recommended the book Quiet.  The first chapter intrigued me: history, sociology, psychology, and more.

Industrial revolution leads to

more consumer goods and less farming, which leads to 

people moving to cities (where they're relatively anonymous) and away from farms (where everybody knows their family for generations back and their work ethic and the looks of the place), which leads to 

an increased need for salesmen,
"a social operator, someone with a ready smile, a masterful handshake, and the ability to get along with colleagues while simultaneously outshining them" (p. 20).

Yes.  That's it.  Salesmen must have the charisma to draw others to themselves, to instill trust, and yet to make sure they get what they want from the customer and outshine the colleagues.  It's seldom about cooperation, and usually about competition.

The increased need for salesmen leads to 

a change from the "culture of character" to the "culture of personality" which leads to

advertisements everywhere

and earlier schooling (so that children can be "socialized")

and "inferiority complexes" for introverts

and psychiatric medications to change personalities

and the idolization of celebrities



as we learn to be dissatisfied with quiet thoughtfulness,
and be influenced by those who are outgoing (regardless of depth)
and those who talk and chatter and even scam.

Starck's Motherhood Prayers

I'd heard so many wonderful things about the book. 

Even though the author is a pietist, I figured that wasn't reason to write off the book.  [Pun.  Bad pun.  Oops.]   I figure that a Christian who values piety so highly (even if too highly) may have some good things to say about prayer.

And boy oh boy, what mixed feelings I have!

On the one hand, I am amazed by the prayers.  They are drenched in scripture.  These samples are what fervent prayer is all about: speaking back to God what He has spoken to us, holding onto His promises, fitting those promises and those words to our situation.  Rebekah explains this superbly.  And I think this is why Emmanuel Press publishes the book.  (By the way, their cards are gorgeous!)

On the other hand, when I first opened the book, Starck and I got off on the wrong foot.

The first thing I saw when I flipped through the book to get an idea of what was there?  A prayer that God would guard me from seeing any deformed person throughout my pregnancy (pp 16, 19).  And if by chance I should see a deformed person, I pray that God would guard my child from being affected by the sight.   Maybe I'm being too touchy, but that really hacked me off.  As I crabbed about it to Gary, he asked who I saw without an arm when I was pregnant with Katie.  And he pondered how it happened that I "saw" somebody's heart defect and palate defect when I was pregnant with Maggie.

The next thing I noticed was the part about the churching of a mother, and how a mother will spend six weeks after childbirth at home resting.  I realize that people respond differently to childbirth, and I realize that some mothers appreciate this hiatus from work and being out among other people.  But to use Leviticus to make a law of this?  And to tell mothers that they are disobeying God to get out of bed and do some work in those first weeks?  No wonder Starck is talking about the mother's weakness and how she needs to pray for strength!  After spending two weeks in an ICU bed recently, I am weak.  Too much rest destroys a person's strength.  It is not "wantonness" deserving of "injury for wanting to be wiser than God" (p 53) for a woman to "move about" during this time. 

I understand and agree with Starck's comments about how it's better for mother and baby when the mother is cheerful and thankful.  But it's going too far to say that "an outburst of hot temper" during pregnancy indicates "impatience at her fruitfulness, and consequently an act of ingratitude" for which God may punish her (p 16).  

Similarly (p 64) we hear that God has placed children into our keeping, and if they be lost, "then shall thy life be for its life."   I see where such a statement could flow from pietism.  But those who believe in original sin and know that it is the Holy Spirit (and not we ourselves) who preserves us in the true faith, such people cannot believe that God punishes Christian parents whose children go astray.

So I approach the final chapter with caution.  The naughty perspective is such a small portion of the book.  So much of the book flows from scripture to another scripture to hymn stanza and back to more psalms.  What will he say about the barren mother?  I noticed that, in Rebekah's review, she said she hadn't read that concluding chapter.  In my opinion, that's just as well.  The dear friend who gave me the book said that the chapter on barrenness was full of information that helped her, and she said there was truth there which was hard to hear, but nevertheless the words were good.  My perspective was a little ... uh ... angrier.

I think Starck tries to delve into the hidden mysteries of God when he attempts to give reasons why God chooses to withhold the gift of children from some couples.  And some of those reasons can be very hurtful.  And untrue.  And can contradict what we so often say about the good gift of children to those expectant mothers who are distressed about finances or the future.  And again, he goes too far when he says that married people should beware of "importunate prayers" because God may just go ahead and give them a child that will make them miserable for the rest of their lives (p 72).  ("Take that, you peons.  Don't question Me.  Don't keep praying to Me.  Yes, I did say to pray persistently.  But don't be too persistent.  Because then I'll teach you a lesson.  Ha!  That'll show you not to keep begging."  Uh, yeah, that's not my God.)

Thing is, there's some truth there.  It's not good to keep demanding things of God as if we are the boss and He is the servant.  But the pietist apparently has a good knowledge of when he's praying in a holy way, as opposed to those who pray in grief and feel the accusations of Satan that they are Not Content Enough.

While there is much good to be found in this prayerbook [again, see the review over at Concordian Sisters] I really would much prefer Luther's Prayers or Gerhard's Meditations on Divine Mercy or even the Pastoral Care Companion.



One more thing:  Although the title is "Motherhood Prayers for All Occasions," it's not.  It's for the perinatal time; it's not for all occasions.*  The book is not for mothers whose kids are off in the army.  It's not for mothers whose kids are getting married or divorced.   It's not for mothers whose children have all died.  It's not for mothers whose kids have left the faith and/or left the family.  It provides prayers for the one particular niche, which is either a strength or weakness in the book, depending on your own perspective and place in life.

* Footnote:   Well, I guess in a way it's for all people,

no matter what the occasion, because the prayers use 

Bible verses which apply to anyone struggling.  But 

the specific application is only to that one portion of 

 motherhood.

Such an Obedient Wife!

They're telling me stories of things that happened in the hospital -- things I do not remember.

They tell me that when the medical staff removed my breathing tube, I didn't exactly remember to breathe.  The machine had been doing the work for me.  I was weak.  Breathing wasn't on the top of my priority list.

So Gary would notice me go 20 or 30 seconds without a breath.  My oxygen level would go down.  "Susan!  Breathe!"

So I would.

Apparently, after one of these big breaths, I pointed out to him that I was a Very Obedient And Submissive Wife.  I breathed when he told me to!

Hey, I figured he should appreciate the "obedience" for those brief moments.

the absolution

Jesus said, "Come unto Me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."  And that rest is that He forgives your iniquity and remembers your sin no more.

Hallucinations

A friend asked recently, "So what did you experience when you collapsed from the aneurysm?"

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The book/movie "Heaven Is For Real" has been popular.  Nearly all my life I've heard stories of near-death experiences.  So what did I experience?  Nothing.

Maybe I wasn't that near death?

Or maybe it was something else?

My pastor is diligent to visit those in the hospital in serious condition.  Coma?  The guy needs to be visited frequently!  Surgeries, drugs, and breathing tubes?  Pastor is there a lot!  He says such times of weakness (especially with the drugs and anesthesia) are prime opportunities for Satan to wreak havoc in a Christian's life.  It's critical that the person be receiving the Gospel ... even if the person isn't intellectually comprehending the words.  It's a battle of God's angels versus Satan's angels.

I've heard stories of horrible hallucinations while people were on narcotics.  Even though I did hallucinate, it wasn't ugly.  I remember having an argument with myself about talking to one of the people in my room -- a person I knew full-well was NOT there.  But that person-who-wasn't-there was talking to me, and it would've been rude not to answer.  I remember reaching out to brush away stuff that was hanging too close to the hospital bed -- stuff that wasn't there.  I remember reaching for a pair of scissors (who knows why?!) that I just couldn't get a good grip on ... merely because they weren't there.  I hated the narcotics and the unreality it foisted on my mind.  But looking back, I'm realizing that nothing was horrible.  Monsters did not chase me.  Nobody threatened my life.  And best of all, there were no demons. 

And I wonder if any of this plays into the lack of "near-death experience."

Death cannot destroy forever.
From our fears, care, and tears
it will us deliver.
It will close life's mournful story,
make a way that we may
enter heavenly glory.

Lord, my shepherd, take me to Thee.
Thou art mine.
I was Thine even e'er I knew Thee.
I am Thine for Thou hast bought me.
Lost I stood,
but Thy blood free salvation brought me.

Without Electricity

Can't clean. 
Too dark to dust or pick up.
No electricity for the vacuum.
Can't mop or wash; no water.

Can't call Mom or Paul to chat; phone needs electricity. 

Can't watch television or videos.
Can't chat with friends on the computer.
Can't write blog posts.

Can't soak in the bathtub.
(Can't flush either.)

Can't go for a walk (because it's still storming outside).
Likewise, can't do anything with the garden.

Can't play board games because it's too dark.
Can't play piano; it's digital.
Can't do baking-chores.

Can't work the garage-door opener.
Can't run fans or air-conditioning.
Can't get snacks or cool drinks from the fridge.
Can't leave the porch light on for the one still at work.
Can't have him microwave his supper when he gets home.

CAN read next to the west window, until the sun is closer to setting.
CAN talk to the other people in the family.
CAN go to bed early.

Hoo-boy -- we are dependent!

Thanks be to God that we had no damage -- only inconveniences.

Middle Age

Forty is the old age of youth.
Fifty is the youth of old age.

Yes.

a French proverb

found in Jan Karon's 

"A Continual Feast"

Jesus, the Plagiarist?

Well, maybe it's not considered plagiarism, seeing as how the Lord wrote the Old Testament.  So if He takes the words from the psalms and "makes them His own" in the High Priestly Prayer, that's not really stealing words, is it?

John 17: Sanctify them in Your truth; Your word is truth.
Psalm 119 (resh): The entirety of Your word is truth.

What's extra-nifty, though, is that the bulk of the High Priestly Prayer is about Jesus' praying for the preservation of His apostles and other disciples.  They're about to face temptation.  They're going to fall away.  And He prays for the Father to keep them.

And that's what Psalm 119:153-160 is all about.  "Revive me."  "Plead my cause."  "Redeem me."

Katie's Kloset

What do you do with used medical equipment when Grandma or your dad no longer needs a walker or a shower-chair or a Cpap or whatever?  In Waukesha County, people can donate medical supplies to Katie's Kloset.  If you're in need of medical supplies, you can borrow it from Katie's Kloset (assuming the item you need is currently available). 

It's a great way to clear unused supplies out of your home and get them into the hands of people who need them!

It's a great way to save money if you need an item for only a few weeks or a couple of months!



A year or so ago, I was wishing there were a way for our congregation to set up something like this, but the space just isn't available.  And now I find out that there's no need, because somebody else in the county is already providing this match-making service.

"Going to Church"

When I was little, we went to "church."  "Going to church" meant Sunday morning or maybe a Wednesday-evening Lenten service.  It didn't mean dropping by the building to pick up the sweater you left there yesterday.

In recent years, friends talk about going to "Divine Service" or to "worship" or to "Mass" or to "prayers" or even to "celebration service."

[that moment when the light bulb clicks on]

Augsburg Confession, Article 7:  The holy Christian church is

the assembly of all believers among whom the Gospel is preached in its purity and the holy sacraments are administered according to the Gospel.

If you look at it that way, "going to church" doesn't sound any different from "Divine Service"!

Asking for Help

... also known as "bossing people."

I had to gather all my gumption to order-around little kids, to make them pick up their toys, to make them stop hitting a sibling, to write a thank-you note, to do their chores.  I kept making myself do it, for their sakes.  But boy, oh boy, I was not one of those moms who thought it would be realistic to have the kids doing all the housework for me by the time I was 40. 

This week I discovered why.

I can ask people to work alongside me.

I cannot ask people to do something for me if I am goofing off, resting, lying on the couch watching tv letting my brain heal.  I cannot ask people to clean house while I sit on the deck and read a book.  Even if they goofed off earlier while I worked, I can't seem to flip the scenario and ask them to work now while I rest.   

Last night, I asked for help.  There were groceries to be unpacked, hamburger to be repackaged and labeled and frozen, recycling and trash to be hauled to the curb, dishes to be washed, cat box to be cleaned.  All four of us pitched in, and the chores were done in about 15-20 minutes.  If I'd tried it myself it would have been more like two hours. 

I have to learn to request people to work while I don't. 
It's hard.
But I'm going to need to learn to do it before I'm 95.

(By the way, my mom will totally understand this dilemma.)

Hair Growth

7 weeks after the surgeons shaved it bare

17 days after surgery

It's growing.  Slowly.

I was mistaken for a man (by a friend!) last week.  And someone told me on Sunday that he much preferred the "babushka look" to the ... uh ... the "other." 

Yes!  Me too!

It's nice that Alia no longer seems afraid of me with my "boy hair."

Gary has encouraged me to take weekly pictures of the hair growth.  Because I have been frustrated by the changes in my hair as I age, he figured that evening out a huge bald patch on my scalp would be the perfect time to see what my hair did at different lengths.  When I came home from the hospital, Rachel cut my longer hair to match the fuzz over the surgery site.  When I'm in public, I usually wear a scarf or a baseball cap. 

The fact that I'm blogging about this probably betrays way more vanity in me than I want to own up to.

The scar site on my scalp doesn't show any more.  I think (I hope!) that my hair is long enough now to protect the scar from sunburn.  But I'm still being careful during midday; Pam warned me to watch out for sun on the scar tissue.

I do not think my hair will be long enough by the time of the wedding [just one month!] to go bare-headed yet.  Andrew asked Gary to keep his beard, even though it's summer, so that Gary would "look like Dad" in the wedding pictures.  Well, that lady ain't gonna "look like Mom."  But what are you going to do?!  LOL.

Strawberry Picking

Katie has done a LOT to tend the garden since I crashed.  When it comes to picking sweet berries, the girls are quite happy to help.  Alia loves it when we find insects or other small critters in the garden for her; she and I have different opinions, however, as to which of those creatures/pests should live or die.

I am SO glad we changed the strawberries last year, transplanting berries into a raised bed and putting grass seed in the former berry plot.  It's made the mowing much easier because we [well, they] are no longer mowing around an odd-shaped plot.  And I can help with picking/tending berries as they're easier to reach, and I can even sit on the boards at the edge of the bed.  Besides, the number of weeds is minimal in a raised bed compared to the ground-level plot.

Those worker-gals (in the photo above) forgot to take their berries home with them yesterday. So instead we are going to hog the benefits of their work.  We will enjoy strawberry shortcake for somebody's "birthday" today.  We'll have to pick some berries and drop them off for Katie's family another day.  Unless one of the other kids beats us to the next pickin' ....

Whoever Denies Me Before Men

Pastor has often heard me (and possibly others) moan about the verse in Matthew 10:

Whoever denies Me before men, 
him I will also deny before My Father who is in heaven.

In Sunday's sermon he pointed out what happened the night when Jesus was betrayed.  Peter denied Him.  Repeatedly.  Shortly after he swore he'd never do it.  

Did Jesus deny Peter?  No.

No.  He didn't deny Peter!!  
"When we are faithless, He is faithful, for He cannot deny Himself."

So it is true what the preceding verse says: 

Whoever confesses Me before men, 
him I will also confess before My Father who is in heaven.

And that promise trumps the damning word of law.
 

Dear Diary ...

Discharged from outpatient speech therapy last week.
Discharged from outpatient physical therapy yesterday.

Borrowed Maggie's bike yesterday and rode back and forth in front of the house for two or three whole minutes, in yet another attempt to put a smidgeon of muscle back into my legs.  I did not topple over.  I did, however, get off the bike and walk it up the steeper inclines. 

The therapists warned me against overdoing; they said I must do a lot of "nothing."  They said that's when my brain does its healing.  I don't know how to do nothing.  I watch tv and read and do Sudoku's.  I drag myself through an easy chore or two.  I'm to the point of needing naps only when I overdo a bit. 

I've been watching Call the Midwife.  So many friends have raved about the series.  I have mixed feelings.  At the beginning, it seemed like the longest one-hour show I'd ever watched.  But after we got to know the characters and the setting, that aspect improved.  Overall, I get to liking the show, and then an episode pops up that infuriates me.  It's one thing to have a story about a brother and sister committing adultery, and then her committing suicide.  It's another thing altogether to have this relationship extolled as the right kind of love and passion and fulfillment.  Similarly, I can understand the reason why this series would set forth a story about a woman with "too many children" and her attempts to abort the next baby.  But that story takes on a completely different aspect when the narrator bookends the story with commentary on the Pill and the need for safe abortion to protect women from the Burdens Of Childbearing.  Then, when I've calmed down, I decide to give the series "one more chance" and the next episode gets me hooked again.

Andrew drove me to therapy the other day.  A soap opera was playing in the waiting room.  He was reading, but he caught glimpses of his first soap.  On the way home, he commented on the vengeance and hatred.  At my last haircut [no, I mean, the last regular haircut, y'know, in the salon, not the post-surgery head-shaving] I was sickened to see what was on soap operas today.  I remember people telling me when I was in college that they were inappropriate for Christians (or even decent people) to watch.  I thought that was overly legalistic.  I don't know if I've changed or if soap operas have worsened that much.  But now I'm inclined to agree: watching soaps today is submitting to the brainwashing of the culture.  (Oh, man, I'm gonna get hate-mail now....)

The strawberries are coming in abundantly.  I think we should replant healthy babies again this year, late in summer.  The difference in berry-size is significant.  And last fall it looked like those spindly, frail starters couldn't possibly produce anything.  I had to freeze some berries because we're bringing in more than we can eat ... and jam-making seems too risky right now with my brain-scrambles and my lack of physical strength.

God is certainly doing my garden-watering for me.  I did not get around to pruning the grapes, the cherries, or the apples.  Right now, the grapes vines look to be producing plenty of fruit and jam and juice.   The apples trees --which produced NOTHING the last three summers-- have baby apples.  I must have been pruning the wrong twigs in previous years.  Now, how do I figure out what I did wrong so that I don't repeat my mistake ... because these trees desperately need pruning as soon as fall's cool weather sets in.

I have not touched a lawn-mower since before my crash.  Gary has borne the brunt of that chore, with some help from Rachel.  We are deeply thankful that the neighbors have helped mow, and one has offered to loan his riding lawnmower to Gary occasionally!

Gary drove Maggie and me to the library last night.  First trip since my crash.  The library had notices about a town meeting that would deeply impact that future of the library.  Turned out the meeting was due to start just a few minutes before we left the library.  We drove straight over to town hall.  Both Gary and I ended up testifying briefly.  I'm glad we went.  Most of the citizens there were of the opposite viewpoint.  I think it was encouraging to the town board to hear us few taxpayers/voters in agreement with them.  It's probably also good that ALL the citizens attending were not of the one opinion, but that some of us agreed with the board's decision.  (I'm kind of scared to see how the local weekly paper quotes me: it's not exactly the most accurate news-reporting I've ever seen.)

We have lots of new members at church.  It is such an encouragement to see them arrive to visit, and revel in the liturgy and the preached gospel, to see their eager attendance at Bible class.  And they come back and bring friends.  Lovely!

You know what?  If you don't dust for long enough, you can't dust.  You have to use a wet, soapy cloth to scrub dirt off the furniture.  Each day I tell myself that I'm going to do a little housecleaning.  Just a little.  And it's harder to clean stuff than I expect.  Partly because I'm weak.  Partly because the dirt is thicker.  Ick.  (Thing is, before my daughters get any bright ideas to come over and help, I have to sort and file and toss and eliminate ... so that cleaners can find the horizontal surfaces in need of cleaning.)

At symposium last week, I found myself boasting to out-of-towners about the people at church.  We have done very little cooking since I arrived home from the hospital.  Our fellow-saints are preparing meals and bringing them to us.  I am absolutely overwhelmed by the generosity.  And the delicious cooking. 

I began weaning off the shingles drug (the one for nerve pain, aka my arachnoiditis).  Going from 3 pills daily to 2 was okay.  Going from 2 to 1 pill has been a bit much.  I thought I'd be weaned off the drug entirely before seeing the neurologist for my follow-up visit.  I doubt it now.  I'm too whiny about the nerve pain again.  I look like a dope, carrying a pillow around with me, so I don't have to sit on a hard pew or chair at church.  Too bad.  Dopey-looking is better than whiny and suffering.

That's enough update. 
I have all these scribbled notes for things I want to put on my blog/diary.
But there's only so much sitting at the computer that my body can take. 
So now I'm stopping and heading off to find a pain-pill.  
Have a happy day!

Kristin Lavransdatter

Medieval Norway. 
Historical fiction, particularly a love story or a story of motherhood.
Theology.

Okay, here's the deal.  If you're interested in any two of the above three topics, you should enjoy the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy.

Me?  I didn't care diddly about medieval Norway.  But, hey, I learned something as I read through these books.  (Warning: it sure wasn't easy reading for me.  And to be fair, I started the series before my brain broke.  Even back in early spring it was a stretch.  For a while after my hospitalization, I considered reading Kristen to be therapy.)

I want so much to chatter on about the book.  Oh, uh, I mean, uh, critique it.  Yeah, that's it.  But I don't know how I can say anything without giving away spoilers.

My friend Polly would often recommend the Kristen series to people who were gathering a new reading list for themselves.  Last year, several other friends decided to read the series.  The books got a nearly-universal thumbs-up as more people recommended them enthusiastically.  And now I'm part of the crowd. 

More Brain Recovery

Speech therapist and physical therapist told me last Friday that I had "met all the goals" which had been set for me in the hospital.  I'm still in need of plenty of work: strength, endurance, speed.  While my legs still look spindly, we can now feel that there's something in my calves besides bone and skin-cover.  Although I appear to be building up some small amount of muscle, I still have not regained any of the weight lost during the hospital stay.  (Now, the flabby stuff on my belly which disappeared?  It can just stay gone!   The muscles in my legs --puny though they were-- need to come back, please!)

I am allowed to do light housework now.  Problem is, I can only tackle one thing per day.  Today it was picking strawberries and lettuce from our small garden.  Yesterday it was out-patient therapy and a short trip to the grocery store.  Day before was church and a bit of time with the kids.  Tomorrow is laundry and therapy and evening church; this will definitely require in-between napping.  I don't know when the vacuum cleaner and I will ever become reacquainted.

I've been given permission to begin weaning myself off the nerve-pain medicine.  I think I'll be off that drug prior to my follow-up visit with the neurologist.  I've bent the ear of two doctors, two therapists, and one nurse.  Nobody will budge on beginning to wean off the anti-seizure drug.  Thing is, I am really getting annoyed by its side-effects.  The neurologist suggested that the side-effects should lessen as I get rid of the other med. 

My boss is still patiently waiting to hear from the neurologist about my follow-up visit.  Turns out my employer was required by law to hold my position for me for only two weeks.  They have been more than generous in finding substitutes for me on the work-schedule.  They do want me back if at all possible.  It's so awesome to have a good employer that acts according to the Table of Duties' "To Masters" section.

When I talked to the neurologist last time, I gained a little more hope for returning to driving.  He said it makes a difference that I had a "provoked seizure" instead of a seizure that my body came up with on its own.  I guess if you go poking around in somebody's brain, sending her into a seizure doesn't mean she's going to have her own seizures later. 

I'm beginning to see what I suspect are side effects of not drinking my kombucha.  Today I talked to our doctor about the chin rash and the lower back pain.  Nothing to do but treat the symptoms.  I keep thinking that some of these things would resolve themselves if I could get back to my kombucha and my supplements and off the drugs.  But I am, so far, managing to be an obedient patient.

Still exhausted.  The doctors and therapists insist that "When You're Doing NOTHING Is When Your Brain Is Healing.  So do a lot of nothing."  No fear.  I am still quite the lazy slug.  Naps are my friend.

Okay, I think that's pretty much all the news for those of you who are asking how I'm doing. 
:-)

Cause Your Face to Shine, and We Shall Be Saved

The Aaronic benediction --
the way God told His priests to put His name on the people --
the way God designed for His people to be blessed:

The Lord make His face shine upon you
and be gracious unto you.

Psalm 31, right in the midst of the psalmist's plea to be rescued from those who are persecuting him:

Make Your face shine upon Your servant;
save me for Your mercies' sake.

I don't know about anybody else, but I think it's really cool that David, in his grief and his weakness and his prayers, grabbed hold of the liturgy to speak it back to God. 

And I think the psalm sheds light on what we hear at the end of every Service.  The pastor's not just saying some nicey-nice words about happy stuff happening to us.  He's not wishing us some inspirational, [temporally] abundant-life kind of week.  No.  The words of the Benediction are about mercy and salvation and rescue and the resurrection of the body.  These words are about Jesus and His suffering and death for us.

PS: In case I forget later where the line from

the title was drawn, it's from Psalm 80.

"We Don't Like Show-offs Around Here"

I signed up for Curves primarily because Maggie needed exercise.  We went together.  It's not the toughest, most strenuous workout.  I try to get more out of the gym-time by pushing harder on the cardio segments, swinging my arms, jogging with my knees higher, or whatever can push me to maybe (?) break a sweat.  A few times, an elderly woman has said to me, "Hey, we don't like show-offs around here."

I don't know if it's the same woman who's said it several times, or different women.  I don't know if it's a weird, back-handed compliment or if it's a genuine complaint.  I don't know if it's a clumsy but well-meaning way to try to initiate conversation with a new-comer. 

I have no idea how to respond to that comment, so I usually don't.  I usually act as if I didn't hear.  But it always leave me in a quandary: Do I take a lazy approach to working out so that I don't offend those who cannot expend as much effort as I do used to?  Do I work as hard as before, and try to explain? 

Someone said it to me again last month.  One or two minutes before my brain aneurysm ruptured.

I've wondered several times what she thought when I collapsed and they called 911 and the paramedics rushed up with the ambulance.  Was she horrified at her comment?  Did she think, "Serves her right, the show-off"? 

Maybe God in His grace caused her to not even remember that she said it.

The Holy Ghost Is Not Confetti

... but nevertheless the analogy keeps resurfacing in my mind.

It's that time of year when the maple trees are dropping their helicopter seeds.  It's that time of year when little children gather up handfuls of helicopters and thrrrrrow them up into the air, to spin and spread and float everywhere.

Or imagine the kind of confetti that flies everywhere during a ticker-tape parade.

Remember the story of the sower and the seed (Mark 4)?  The guy sowing the seed was reckless.  He took handfuls of seed and threw it everywhere.  He spread it and spread it and spread it.  Even where it would never grow.

The Holy Spirit can never be separated from the Word.
The Word can never be separated from the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost is that word --that Spirit-- blowing where the Lord wills.  Everywhere.

"I Just Want You To Be Happy"

Pastor keeps saying it over and over:  Our society believes, "All that matters is that they're happy."  Okay, I figure he's right, but I didn't know where he kept bumping into this credo. 

I've been watching more than my normal share of movies recently.  One after another after another: "I just want you to be happy" and "whatever it takes for them to be happy."  If it's not a theme, it is at least accepted-as-universal-truth in most of the movies made in the last ten years.

Weaselly little thing to sneak into our brains under the guise of niceness.  After all, who would care about what was good for a person if it might make them uncomfortable?

Brain Recovery

Been home from the hospital for two weeks now.

This morning virtually all the kids left for a marvelous family reunion.  It's just Gary and me at home.  Doctors said I couldn't make the trip.  My body confirms the fact that I am grounded.  Bummers.


However, ...

Yesterday my physical therapist lifted my restriction of needing 24-hour supervision.
And she told me that, most of the time, I should not be using the walker.
And she told me I could use the stairs.  (I saw the basement today for the first time post-crash.  It was still there, and thanks to Maggie's hard work, the laundry was done.)

Hair has grown to maybe a half-inch.  I still think I'm bald, but Gary thinks he's the one who's actually bald.

I'm off all the narcotics.  Boy, withdrawal is nasty.  I guess I can see why people might want to keep taking the medicine when they don't need it ... if it relieves the withdrawal symptoms.  But to dive into taking these pills for "fun"??  [shudder]

I finally approached the stove.  I cooked a fried egg yesterday and heated some soup today.  Nothing exploded or caught fire.  But for the most part, dear friends and church-members are preparing most of our meals.

Maggie and I planted two tomatoes in the raised bed I had prepped the day before my crash.  Because of the prior physical labor, it wasn't hard to get some tomato plants in the dirt, especially with Mag's help.  And, oh!!, the wondiferous smell of tomato leaves!  Also, the strawberries have just begun to turn red.  Alia ate the first one yesterday and highly approved.  Gary picked four today.  Mmmmm.

I'm yearning for a bottle of kombucha or a beer.  And it's four whole weeks more until I see the neurologist and can even ask about moving in that direction.

Wedding Registry

This may be tacky, but here we go ...

Because people have asked about Andrew & Olivia's wedding registry, I'm announcing that they are registered at Kohl's and at Target. 

However, those are ideas, suggestions.  If you see something on one of those lists, and can find a better deal, or have a nice hand-me-down, or would prefer to give something similar but not what's on the registry, please do not be confined to The List. 

Personally, I often stick to what's listed on a registry because I know the purchase will knock that item off the list, making it less likely for the couple to receive duplicates.  So here's my suggestion:  If you find something on clearance at Bed, Bath and Beyond, or if you find something at Walmart for half-price, or if you're sewing hand-made kitchen towels, let me know.  I will tell Olivia and Andrew to adjust their registry, taking the item off their wish-list. 

End of advertisement.

Brain Surgery

Two weeks in ICU.  A few more days in the regular part of the hospital.  And some time at home trying to recuperate and get back to quasi-functional.

Brain aneurysm decided to bleed.  I'm still trying to piece together the stories I heard.  Ambulance trip to the local hospital.  Transferred to the big teaching hospital. 

Everybody was there with me for Mother's Day.  That's pretty cool.

Pastors who come to visit in the hospital are wonderful.  Especially when they talk like pastors, and pray psalms and sing hymns and bring God's word to bear on the situation!

Thank God for a resident who went home one night and studied and read and studied some more.  She figured out the weirdo side effect I was experiencing and helped figure out the root causes of the debilitating, excruciating pain.  Not that the pain is gone yet, but it's certainly improving.

Head is shaved.  Didn't know what else to do with the bald patch from the surgery.  Everybody tells me it's growing so fast.  Alia and I still think it looks like boy-hair.

Spent today catching up on paying bills and then sorting through other paperwork.  In those piles, I found oh-so-many cards and notes from loved ones.  Presumably I saw all of these earlier, but many of them were completely new to me.  (There was a lot of stuff people told me during the hospital stay that is completely lost.)  It was heart-warming to read through all those messages, cards, and notes this afternoon!

Still puzzling about my job.  They're willing to hold my spot open.  But I don't know how long it will be before I'm capable, and I keep wondering if it would be better to tell them to replace me and then rehire me at some unspecified time "later."  Then there's also the problem of how long it will be before I'm allowed to drive again.  It's hard to have a job when you can't get yourself there. 

Still pondering how to respond to those who tell me I was so lucky that the collapse happened when I was in a place to be caught immediately, about a block from the fire station (where the ambulances live).  I don't think that going to be with Jesus would've been that bad a thing.  However, if it had happened to Gary or the kids, I'd certainly be thankful if they had pulled through a normally-fatal medical emergency.

Overwhelmed by the dinners brought to us, the flowers, the cheery balloons, the cards. The assistance with mowing the yard.  The garden-tending.  The housecleaning. 

Going back to church is the best!

Tomorrow I begin outpatient therapy.

Probably more to tell.  But I had no nap today, and thus it's bedtime.

The Frugal Benefit of NOT Planning Menus Ahead

Menu-planning.  Everybody tells us that is the way to save money on the grocery budget. 

Okay, there's some truth to it.  You plan the menus, go to the grocery store once that week (or two weeks), buy what you need, and stick to the plan.  That's definitely more frugal than running to the store repeatedly or going out to eat. 

But I developed an even cheaper way.  I was shocked recently to see my scheme promoted on a website for eating local and organic.

Plan your menu AFTER shopping, not before. This allows you to stay on budget because you aren’t shopping for special ingredients to make pre-planned meals. You can take advantage of the best deals and plan your meals around those.  This can also help by keeping those unplanned budget purchases from going to waste in your crisper drawer while you carry on with your planned menu.

I like to jot down meal-plan ideas as I'm going through the store.   Lettuce is cheap?  Grab a few heads, write "taco salad" in the margin of your grocery list, and then make sure you grab a tomato and a pepper to be part of the salad.

Find some pork roast marked down to a frugal price because tomorrow is its expiration date?  Toss the roast in the cart, make a note of it in the margin, and remind yourself that it should be cooked tonight or tomorrow.

Find the el-cheapo deals at the store and then figure out what you'll turn it into. It doesn't always work: sometimes you can't find the fabulous deals.  Other weeks, time constraints at dinner will trump the plans you could've developed from the week's good deals at the store.  But other weeks, everything falls into place easily ... and for half the price of pre-planned menus.

Definition of "Engagement"

So if a couple is living together,
if they have a legal contract for rent or mortgage,
if they co-own pets, furniture, bank accounts,

what is it to become engaged?

Gary suggests that engagement really doesn't have anything to do with marriage (for most people out there in the world today) but is more about planning a big hoopla of a party ... and possibly a splendiferous vacation/honeymoon too.

And that would be why we Christians appear to be such oddities -- focused more on the decades-long marriage than on the day-long wedding.

And it would also explain why so many living-together couples end up divorcing not long into the marriage.  Sometimes the thing they had in common was the event of the wedding, and once that's past, it's past.

Sweet Honey from the Rock

Flipping through a homeschool catalog once upon a time, I saw a CD by the singers "Sweet Honey from the Rock."  I assumed the group's name came from the last verse of Psalm 81.  (Wiki confirms this.  For whatever that's worth.)

But the honey in the psalm isn't just about the stuff bees make.  And it's certainly not about richness and beauty coming from an unexpected location.  We read throughout Scripture* how the Rock-which-was-Christ provided for both physical and eternal needs.  We read how God's Word is eaten and tastes sweet.  Really, God?!  EAT a scroll?  And yet, Ezekiel and John both said it was true: the scroll was sweeter than honey.



* Ex 16, Deut 32:13
Ps 19:10, Ps 119:103
Ezek 3:3, Rev 10:9

Garden Report

The lettuces planted on April 5 took three weeks to germinate and come up.  They are now a whoppin' 1/4" tall.  This past Saturday I planted a mix of heirloom lettuces; some are 50-day lettuce and some 60 and some 75.   If I thin them properly, that should give me a good month's worth of lettuce from the one planting.  Knowing me, I'm afraid I'll thin so that only one variety will remain growing.

I had intended to again plant potatoes in a pile of dead leaves in the compost bed.  But as I pulled large old weeds out of the compost pile, I was amazed at the awesome beauty of that dirt.  Oh, it was black.  And soft and fine and crumbly.  Not clay-like at all.  I'm not wasting that luscious dirt on potatoes.  I'm putting something more precious in that raised bed which spent its last few summers as the compost pile.  I don't know yet what's going to live there this summer.  Probably a couple of tomatoes and some herbs and some more lettuces.

Potatoes should be planted in the waning moon.  I'd been sick during most of April's waning moon.  New moon was fast approaching, and several days of rain was due.  If I didn't get those potatoes in the ground before bedtime last Saturday, there'd be another 2-3 week delay.  So I dug trenches and hauled dead leaves to fill those trenches.  My potatoes are now in the dirt.  And they're being nicely and gently watered every day from the rain.  Of course, it's refrigerator temperature outside.  So I'm not sure how the seeds will fare.  But I've done what I can do.

The tulips have tight, small, very-green buds.  The lilacs have tiny green leaves on them, but no sign of buds.  The apples, crab apples, and cherry trees show no signs of leaves yet.  Usually by the end of April, the lilacs and the crab apples have already bloomed and are finishing their spring floweriness.  Not this year.

Honestly, with the weather, I'm not planning on summer crops.  No beans, no corn, no melons.  I figure I'll grow a few batches of spring veggies.  Except tomatoes.  Gotta at least try on the tomatoes!

Today's Laugh

Grabbed off Facebook:

What's so great about living in Switzerland?
Hmmm.
I guess the flag is a big plus.

What's That Word Mean, Anyhow?

When Jesus died, He "yielded up" His Spirit (Matt 27).

In the Lord's Prayer (Matt 6), we pray, "forgive us" our trespasses as we "forgive" those who trespass against us.

"Forgive" and "yielded up" are the same word in Greek -- send forth, discharge, let go, cancel, forgive, tolerate.

For being the same word in Greek, those sure sound very different in our English translations.  But I guess Jesus' death and letting go of the Holy Spirit is why forgiveness is preached and spread and spoken to sinners throughout the world.

Easter Pictures

Nanna got her hands on the Matthias.

This is just such a happy picture.

Beautiful mama.  And that couldn't possibly be a yawn from baby.   I think he must be singing "Alleluia"; don't you agree?

Not MY Problem

Judas went to the priests with his sin: "I have sinned by betraying innocent blood."  Hey, "you see to it," buster.  Not my problem, say the priests.

Later in the same chapter, Pilate sees that a riot is starting.  He says he's "innocent of the blood of this Just Man" and told them "you see to it."  Not my problem, says the governor.

In both cases, the man's station in life, his work, his job, was to deal with the problem before him.  But no: "you see to it."  

April Pictures

Zoe (and Alia) -- April 3

Zoe was showing me how she can put her hand by her chin in a certain ponderous pose: "Dis is what finking looks like."

Alia -- April 3

Where's Waldo?

Papa and Matthias -- April 6

My Lord and My God

Last weekend during the services, we kept hearing God call us "My people." 
The reproaches on Friday: "Oh, My people!"
And Friday's collect: "behold this Your family ..."
Isaiah 53: "for the transgressions of My people He was stricken."
Exodus 15: "in Your mercy You have led forth the people whom You have redeemed."
Isaiah 25: "the rebuke of His people He will take away."

And this week, Thomas:
"My Lord and my God."

Today's Laugh

 

 

Stolen from Polly's FB page

Lazy? Or Sick?

I cannot scold myself into not being weak.

But that doesn't stop me from trying.  Dumb me.

It's so hard to know when you're being lazy because your body is weak and ill and fighting germies ... and when you're Just Being Lazy.  You try to give yourself a kick in the heinie and make yourself tackle that list of projects.  But then you don't bother to get out of bed in the morning, lying there to amuse yourself reading a story till far too late.  Or you plunk on the couch and watch television.  "Do something productive," you yell at yourself.  But you keep being unproductive. 

So you nap.
And you cough. 
And you blow your nose.

The only reason I can even begin to convince myself that it's not complete laziness on my part?  Last Sunday afternoon's fever.  And the fact that Katie's family has all the same symptoms.  When a 5-yr-old doesn't want to listen to stories but begs to be put to bed early, you know something besides laziness is plaguing her. 

Saving Mr Banks

Savings Mr Banks was one we'd intended to see in [gasp!] the theatre.  Like other people.  But we never made it.  So we watched it on DVD recently.  Oh my goodness -- it was so good that we watched it a second time before taking it back to the library!

Basic plot: Author of the book Mary Poppins doesn't want to sell the rights to Disney, who wants to turn the book into a musical/movie.  

I don't know how much truth there is to the characters and to their histories and motivations.  But it makes a very good story regardless.  Thought-provoking to see the effect on children of an irresponsible daddy who nevertheless shows much affection to his children.  Fun and amusing to see bits and pieces of Mary Poppins lines come out of the mouths of certain characters in the movie. 

Rating: Not sure why it's a PG-13.  It's seems cleaner overall than quite a few PG's I've watched.  Granted it's not something I'd want under-13's to see ... but I'd say the same about most of the PG movies out there.  (And personally, the vast majority of the PG-13's available today should be rated R in my opinion.  But that's another topic....)

Point of both stories:  As a kid, I always thought Mary Poppins was about the nanny rescuing the kids.  It wasn't until I was grown up that I realized that wasn't the main point of the movie.  At all.  In last year's movie, at one point, the author tells the movie producer, "You think this is about saving the children?!"  And she walks away, shaking her head.  And that is what both Mary Poppins and Saving Mr Banks are about.

Today's Laugh

Another groaner from Tyler:

John really liked Emmaline.  He asked her to accompany him to the prom.  Emmaline accepted.  John was delighted.  He wanted to make it a wonderful evening of memories.  What special plans would enhance their evening?

John decided to rent a tuxedo.  He found a tux store.  When he arrived, he found that many of the other guys at school had had the same idea.  The line was long.  But he wanted to look snazzy for his date with Emmaline.  So he waited and waited.  Finally it was his turn.  He chose a style and was fitted for it and paid his down-payment. 

While John was waiting at the tux store, he'd heard some of the other guys talking about flowers.  Yes, he needed beautiful flowers for Emmaline.  He went to the florist.   He found a long line there too.  But he was patient; he waited until a florist could help him choose the corsage that would be just perfect for Emmaline's dress.

A few days later, John had the idea to go one step further in the classiness-department.  He would rent a limo for prom night.  He hunted up a place and headed over there to make arrangements.  This place too had a long line of fellows with the same idea.  So John waited until he could set up the use of the limo and finalize the contract.

Finally, prom night arrived.  John picked up Emmaline.  Her mom wanted to take so many pictures.  John, in his tux.  Emmaline, in her gown with the beautiful flowers.  The couple stepping into the limousine. 

After a luscious dinner, Emmaline and John walked into the dance.  They visited with friends.  They laughed.  They danced.  They had a good time.  They got thirsty.  Emmaline asked John to get her a cup of punch.  So John walked straight over to the refreshment table.  And there was no punch line.

False Accusations

The beatitudes end with "Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake."

So what kinds of evil?  I suppose it might include things like, "Hey, the pastor embezzled thousands of dollars from the church" (which is entirely a lie) or "My neighbor is a Christian and he does _____" (which likewise is completely a fabrication).

But the evil they spoke against Jesus?  "He is overturning the Law."
The evil spoken against the apostles?  "Overturning the Law."

That's why Jesus was reviled and persecuted and killed.
That's why the apostles were too.

Thing is, that evil accusation ("overturning the law") is NOT TRUE.  Those who idolize the Law think the accusation is true.  But it's not.  Jesus fulfilled the Law; He did not do away with it.

Recent Days

Holy Week: church, job, sleep, and working on the bridesmaid dress.  That was about it.

After making adjustments to the pattern and cutting out the pieces for a trial dress, I found my pattern was way off.  So I remade the bodice pattern and, luckily, had enough spare fabric to remake the main pieces of the bodice.  That didn't work either; the dress fits me pretty decently, which means it is five sizes off.   In frustration, I set it aside for a few days.

And then I coughed.  A lot.  And missed out on enjoying the pleasure of the kids' visits.  But hey, I could nevertheless sing for Good Friday and Easter, even with some coughs. Gary and Katie prepared and cleaned up Easter dinner.  I was so thankful!  During the afternoon I developed a fever and had to sleep away much of the day. 

Today was trial-bodice #3 for for the bridesmaid dress.  Much closer to actually fitting Maggie!  Pattern #4 was created this evening.  I hope to piece another test-bodice together tomorrow.  If there's success (??) I can hit up the fabric store to make a complete trial-dress that will be wearable instead of just something to test the size.

You know what?  Sewing is a breeze when all you have to do is follow the pattern and make a few adjustments for length or something simple.

Today's Laugh

Another bad pun from my co-worker --

but read it out loud because I'm not sure

this is a joke that can be communicated in writing:

The bear walked into the bar.

The bartender asked, "What can I get for you, sir?"

The bear grumbled, "A rum and ...

...

...

...




...

...


... coke."


The bartender was puzzled.  "What's with the big pause?"

Be Perfect

"Be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect" (Matthew 5). 

Yikey-schnikey!  If you're like me, you can't help but hear that as a word of condemnation, as a command which you can never obey.

Pastor made a comparison recently.
Think of all the stories in the Gospels.  Jesus laid hands on a leper and said, "Be healed."  And the sick person is healed.

Jesus laid hands on a blind man and said, "Receive your sight."  And the man could see.

Jesus laid hands on a deaf person and said, "Be healed."  And the person was healed and could hear. 

In any of those cases, do we congratulate the person for healing himself?  Duh .....  NO.  The glory goes to the Lord Jesus who healed those who could not heal themselves.



So why this weird switcheroo when it comes to His performative word: "Be perfect"?
HE declares it.
HE makes it so.
Is that the command we sinners perceive it to be?
Or is it a blessing and a gift?

Today's Laugh

My co-worker Tyler was telling some jokes today at lunch.  At their Easter dinner, his family got going on a run of Bad Joke Telling.  Here's one:

Why can't you tell puns
to kleptomaniacs?

Because they take 

everything literally.