Job Satisfaction

Sometimes it comes up in conversation that Andrew is looking at colleges. A few months ago he was considering what he might want to study, what career he might like. Acquaintances would inquire. And that's when I got the shocker.

Nobody seems to like what they do.

When we said that he was considering law enforcement or security, we were told by cops or ex-cops that that would be a terrible profession to enter. Too dangerous. Too political.

When we said that he was considering computer work or engineering, people told us what was wrong with that.

When we said he thought he might be a nurse, he was told how horrible that was, especially with all the record-keeping that can seem like it takes priority over patient-care.

Teachers and day-care workers have told me how terrible their jobs are. Children are undisciplined and mean; parents are blindly protective of Little Junior who would never do anything wrong.

Small-business owners know the troubles of taxes and regulations and finding good employees. Factory workers are tired of the mundane work and the health repercussions. Pastors are frustrated with the low pay and never-ending needs. Clerical workers develop carpel tunnel syndrome and must tolerate business/marketing lingo. Chefs and cooks put in many years at poverty-level salaries and work late hours and long weekends. Maids clean up after piggy slobs who 'get back at the man' by leaving a bigger mess than would be normal.



I've been trying to figure out why so many people discourage kids from going into their line of work. Is this a societal problem, and nurses and teachers and policemen and maids really are serving a nasty populace? Is this a change in employers, and how they see employees as just another [replaceable] cog in the machinery of creating a product? Or do we all desire vacation and retirement, resenting our work because jobs thwart our fun-time?

Trying Another Resume

Upon watching election returns, I came to agree with Gary that the opening at the bank might be more attractive than the opening at the library. At this point, the private sector seems a little more secure than jobs for a government entity. I prepared a resumé for the bank, filled out the application, and dropped it off today. The assistant manager was smiling from ear to ear when she saw me walk in with the application.

It is quite intimidating to sketch out your life in minimalistic words, drop it off for a stranger to evaluate, and wonder if they will recognize any value in your life & work & intelligence & worth.

Grandbabies

Because some of y'all are not Facebook-friends with my kids, I would like to announce that I have two pregnant daughters. Katie is due in late April. Rachel is due about the third week of July. This should be fun!

Moving

It was a busy week. Katie and Nathan and Alia began moving into their new apartment last Saturday. That took a couple of days. Tuesday morning was the first day we woke up and Alia wasn't here. Oh, sadness! Sunshine has moved over to the other side of town. When they located the apartment a month ago, Andrew summarized how much we'd miss them with "But with Alia here, there's always something FUN to do. It's never boring with her around!" (Maggie, on the other hand, responded to news of Katie's new place with "But then who's going to do all the cleaning??" Boy, I bet Katie feels loved....)

Tuesday it was time to begin resettling ourselves back into the vacated spots, moving contents of cupboards, bookshelves, closets, and Andrew's bedroom. Gary thought it would be good to spruce up the bedroom while it was empty -- something we never did when we moved in. So we suddenly bought paint and went at it. (Painting is NOT something I do on a whim. It's something I fret about plan for ... for maybe a year or two. I do not rush into painting. This was weird.) Andrew did a vast majority of the work.

Yesterday I finally finished all the rearranging and crossed "moving" off the to-do list. It took a while because also we had a funeral this week, some time watching election returns and cheering, and then a college visit, which necessitated a pow-wow over Andrew's final year of homeschool curriculum and how we can best serve his plans.

Footnote 1 -- Katie and Nathan live 10 minutes away from us. They are about a mile from church, one block from the post office, one block from a small playground, and half-mile to the library & doozy playground. I should get some pictures, but right now parking over there is hard (in other words, it's illegal) because of construction on their street. Pretty soon.

Footnote 2 -- Across the front lawn of their apartment, across the road, across the empty lot, there is a train track. I haven't heard yet if Wheel-Girl has been mesmerized by the train, but it should provide some good entertainment for her.

Footnote 3 -- Can you believe that picture of Andrew painting? Edging along the ceiling without a ladder or a stepstool!

Cute Alia

When Alia and Katie came over today, at one point Alia suddenly went running down the hall -- probably to try to use the telephone. When she rounded the corner into my bedroom, she exclaimed over and over, "What. Happened. What. Happened?" When I caught up with her, I had no idea what had happened; I didn't see any evidence of a toddler-crime being committed. "I don't know, Alia. What happened?" She patted the stripped bed's mattress pad. "What. Happened?" Oh! She had never seen our bed while the sheets were being washed! That surprise sure caught her up short!



We spent about an hour raking and hauling leaves to the garden this afternoon. I was about to put the last batch into one of the long-empty raised beds. I noticed that some of the spring spinach had gone to seed and we had some baby spinach coming up there alongside the weeds. So before burying them under the leaves-for-compost, I nibbled some utterly delectable spinach. Alia showed up at my side. Desiring to brainwash the child expose her to more treats from the garden, I said, "Mmmmm! Spinach! Yummy yummy! Do you want some?" Of course she did. But when it went in her mouth, she wasn't so sure. "Mmmm. Here's more spinach for Grandma. OH, this is SO good." And I munched several more leaves, asked her if she wanted more, and she hesistantly accepted. Within ten minutes we had eaten all the baby spinach in the raised bed. She had tried to nab some ground ivy and some grass and some overgrown dandelion and some plantain. "No, Alia, those will taste nasty. Only eat what Grandma or Mommy gives you from the garden. This one is spinach -- yum yum. That one is ground ivy -- nasty. This other one is spinach -- yummy. No, don't eat the grass; that will taste nasty."


So after we wipe out the spinach and fill the bed with leaves, she runs around the backyard and plays. And then she found the spinach rows in the main garden. She picked them and ate them. "Yum, yum. Grandma 'pinach?" "Yes, Alia, I would love some; thank you; it's good!" And she knew what plants near the spinach not to eat. Pretty soon Katie made her way to the back yard and informed me that Alia does not like spinach.

I do love brainwashing children.

An Everlasting Covenant

Today's Bible story was the Lord's covenant with Abraham, the name-change from Abram, and circumcision.

Genesis 17:13 is an amazing promise: "My covenant shall be in your flesh for an everlasting covenant."

That's not just about circumcision. That applies to so many ways that God is incarnational. The covenant of circumcision showed in a man's flesh. But what about the Passover which was established as an everlasting ordinance (Exodus 12:24)? We eat Jesus flesh and drink His blood and have eternal life (John 6:54), putting on immortality (1 Corinthians 15). That is certainly "in your flesh" and also certainly an "everlasting covenant."

In addition to that, Christ Himself took on our flesh. His covenant is in our flesh --Christ took on our flesh-- and it has ramifications forever and ever.


Once in the blest baptismal waters
I put on Christ and made Him mine.
Now numbered with God's sons and daughters,
I share His peace and love divine.

His body and His blood I've taken
in His blest Supper, feast divine;
now I shall never be forsaken,
for I am His, and He is mine.
O God, for Jesus' sake I pray
Thy peace may bless my dying day. (TLH 598)



This is no esoteric idea. This is no "concept." This is no theologically-tinged philosophy. This is concrete. This is about a God who did not stay afar off, but came down from heaven to help us, to join Himself to us, that we might in our flesh be saved by His promise, forever.

"And They Were Not Ashamed"

Recent stories in chapel and Didache have been from the first chapters of Genesis. We talked about how Adam and his wife were naked and they were not ashamed. Pastor mentioned that shame always results when you are not being what you were made to be, not doing what you were made to do. When we are who God made us to be, when we do what God made us to do, there is no shame.

But later, after Adam and Eve sinned, they hid from the Lord. They were ashamed.




For a long time, I have pondered the conversation among the persons of the Trinity after the fall into sin -- "man has become like One of Us, knowing good and evil." Which "One" said this?

Earlier in chapter 3, the devil tells Eve about eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. "You will not surely die." Okay, that part is a flat-out lie. "You will be like God, knowing good and evil." Is that part a lie? Hmmm. There appears to be some truth to that claim, seeing as how God Himself said the same thing at the end of chapter 3.

But now I'm wondering if the problem is wrapped up in Adam and Eve trying to be what God had not made them to be, and doing what God had not given them to do. They were the creatures. They were not God. It was not given them to be like God, knowing good and evil. And when they took it for themselves, sin and shame made them know evil in a way that they'd've been better off without.

Funeral Tonight

The All Saints service was planned for our regular midweek service. Then Pastor Goltermann (a retired pastor in the congregation) went to be with Jesus on Saturday evening. So his funeral was combined with the All Saints service.

Joy!
Beauty!
Comfort!
Anticipation!


Gary was just saying that, if you want to know what a church teaches, what they believe, what the pastor's focus is, go to the funerals. One of my friends mentioned tonight that she never used to go to funerals. But here ... here she tries to come to as many as she can. Funerals are some of the best services there are! An hour and 40 minutes tonight of "Behold a Host" and Revelation 7 and "Lord, It Belongs Not to My Care" and "For All the Saints" and the Beatitudes and "Lo, He Comes With Clouds Descending" and a sermon that could have been better only if it had been 2-3 times longer.

Pastor Goltermann grew up in the congregation where Gary did his student teaching. One of his congregations (three decades later) helped support Gary through seminary. He was pastor in Buckley during the 40s. He assisted Ed Suelflow at Walther Memorial. I managed to hold myself to only two times of "It's a Small World After All" this evening. :-)


Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us look unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.

Beer-Batter Fish

Because I lost my mom's recipe and had to call her today to get it, I am posting this online as well as putting the card in my recipe box. Two places to hunt for missing recipes.


Combine:
1 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt

Combine:
2 egg yolks
1/2 can beer (about 2/3 cup)
2 Tbsp oil or melted butter

Stir these together, just till blended.
Let stand an hour or more.

Begin heating frying oil.
Then beat two egg whites.
Fold whites into batter.
Dip fish into batter and deep-fry at 375.

Mmmmmmm.

Vote Democrat

There is a conservative trend favoring Republicans and Tea Party candidates this election season. Those of you in Wisconsin who favor such politics may not want to vote a straight-party ticket, though.

The Democrat incumbent Secretary of State has been doing a relatively innocuous job for about 30 years. The Republican candidate has no political experience and has served in no elected position. This is not necessarily reason enough to vote against a person, even if he's next-in-line for governorship should both the governor and lieutenant governor go MIA. But this Republican candidate for Secretary of State works as a pastor of the "God Squad" in Milwaukee. He declared bankruptcy in 2003. He has been delinquent in paying bills which, he says, is nothing to be ashamed of. He desires to use the Secretary of State office to expand into social action such as crime, jobs, literacy, drugs, and abortion.

Now, for the rest of the races on Tuesday's ballot, go ahead and vote for the Republicans. Scott Walker for governor! Ron Johnson for senate! Schuller for treasurer! Yes!

(By the way, if you're looking for more information on the Attorney General's race, I think this article in the Isthmus is a good summary of the issues.)

Today's Laugh

Chris Cross, a tourist in Vienna, is going passed Vienna's Zentralfriedhof graveyard on October 31st. All of a sudden he hears some music. No one is around, so he starts searching for the source. Chris finally locates the origin and finds it is coming from a grave with a headstone that reads: Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827. Then he realizes that the music is the Ninth Symphony and it is being played backward! Puzzled, he leaves the graveyard and persuades Tim Burr, a friend, to return with him.

By the time they arrive back at the grave, the music has changed. This time it is the Seventh Symphony, but like the previous piece, it is being played backward. Curious, the men agree to consult a music scholar. When they return with the expert, the Fifth Symphony is playing, again backward. The expert notices that the symphonies are being played in the reverse order in which they were composed, the 9th, then the 7th, then the 5th. By the next day the word has spread and a throng has gathered around the grave. They are all listening to the Second Symphony being played backward.

Just then the graveyard's caretaker ambles up to the group. Someone in the crowd asks him if he has an explanation for the music.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," says the caretaker. "He's just decomposing!"

Clean Apartments

Yesterday Katie and Nathan signed a lease on an apartment ten minutes from here, a little closer to work, and closer to church too. Katie cleaned last night for a while. She worked on the kitchen this evening; I worked on the bathroom.

Katie cleans. Whenever she leaves an apartment, it is in better shape than when she took possession of it. It is frustrating to leave an immaculate apartment and then be docked on your security deposit because the apartment manager just assumes that he has to have a cleaning crew come in whenever there's a change in tenants. I have no idea what the cleaning crew did at their last apartment, but they obviously didn't even open the cupboards because Katie & Nathan were charged for destroying (or losing or stealing) an item that was left sitting in the cupboard.

Likewise, this new apartment was cleaned before Katie and Nathan took possession. And it wasn't bad. But there's the grunge on the refrigerator gasket. And caked-on soap drips on the underside of the bathtub soap holder. And it makes me shudder to think of the thick greasy goo on the ceiling fan in the kitchen. I don't think of myself as a good housekeeper. Adequate. Above average. But not consumed with perfection over our cleanliness level in the house. I suppose I have spots in the house that other people might be horrified at while I am blind to those problems. I suppose that the apartment's filthy spots might be something that only Katie and I care about. But still....

If I'm living with my own dirt, that's one thing. But moving into a place with somebody else's grunge, that's a different story.

Birthday Party

Wow! There are balloons that need to be hung for the celebration! There was a chocolaty spatula to lick a few minutes ago! There are streamers on the ceiling! This is a good day!

But I Really Wasn't Job-Hunting

Cashing a check at the bank this morning, it came up in casual conversation with the clerks that I was applying for a job at the library. They were thrilled to hear I was considering a part-time job. But I'm not supposed to work at the library according to the gals at the bank. I need to apply there. They neeeeed someone. They pushed an application on me. They didn't want me to leave; they wanted me to fill it in right then, wishing that the manager could hire me today.

What's going on????

I wonder how long I have to wait before I know whether I'll get an interview with the library. (Hours and pay at the bank and library are fairly similar. A little less on-your-feet time at the bank. The library doesn't have incessant background music. The bank has more windows.)

Maybe it's time to get a job?

Psalm 69:11-12

I became a byword to them.
Those who sit in the gate speak against me.
I am the song of drunkards.

If the psalms belong in the mouth of Christ [and by the way, they do] then it is interesting to see these verses in light of the cursing and swearing and foul language that permeate our society. Jesus' name IS used as the song of drunkards. It IS a byword.

Tank-tops and Shells

It is supremely unfair that the time of life when a woman's hormones force her into sleeveless shirts is exactly when her upper arms are getting floppy and her elbows are getting wrinkly.

Writing a Resume

Checking out of our local library recently, I noticed the poster that said they're hiring. Although I need income, I haven't been looking too hard for a job, seeing as how I already have a job teaching the kids. But I've kept my eyes open, just in case the perfect job pops up.

And this is it! The hours don't interfere with chapel or church or choir. The job is in a building filled with [get this...] BOOKS. [Be still my heart!] The pay is decent; the hours are enough to make a difference to our budget but not too much to prevent all my frugality measures of cooking and gardening. It's the kind of job that requires attention to detail, organizing books and labels, and other tasks that fit my personality well and that I'm good at. It's close enough to bike, or even to walk if absolutely necessary. And the 'customers' are my neighbors who have willingly come to learn something! How cool is that?!?

So this week I've been learning about resumés and cover letters. It's so hard to tout yourself; I think the traits the employer is looking for should be taken for granted. I mean, it's a sad commentary on society that an employer has to specifically state that employees should have a strong work ethic and be friendly to the customers. So I need to find a way to get across to potential employers that I'm the kind of employee that they will be thrilled they hired. How do I know which desirable characteristics are the ones to list, and which good characteristics must go unmentioned? If I'm brutally harsh in my self-evaluation and still recognize that this is a job I'll be superb at, how do I differentiate myself from the people who think they're marvelous at everything and say so in order that they might win the "pick me! pick me!" game.

Brown

I bought knee-socks to go with my skirts because I'm tired of spending money on hose and then having them run. Knee-socks are cheaper. One of the pairs of socks in the recently-purchased package was brown. So this morning, getting dressed for church, I pulled on the brown socks to go with my brown Birkenstocks.

One day. One short morning. I haven't worn brown for years. And in one morning I'm already tired of brown.

I think I got too much brown in the 70s. Enough brown to last a lifetime. Gimme blue, red, black, and white, please!

1830's Trails

Never could keep 'em straight: the Trail of Tears and the Santa Fe Trail. In all honesty, I'm not sure that I ever realized they were separate places.

They both were east-west trails in the US.
They weren't that far apart, and both trails overlapped some of the same longitudinal lines.
The stories of both trails involved Indians and soldiers.
They occurred at the same time.
And obviously, they both contain the word "trail."

We're reading a history book that covers world events during Abraham Lincoln's lifetime. (By the way, I've learned more about Napolean in the last month than I ever learned in school.) Also, Andrew and I are working through some lectures on American wars, and right now we're on the events that led up to the Mexican War. So, in the same week, we stumbled upon both trails.

Now, maybe you learned more history than I learned. Or maybe you can keep straight titles that have the same word in them. But if you too are a Bear of Very Little Brain, here are the differences:

The Santa Fe Trail was a little further north, and began & ended further west than the Trail of Tears.

But more importantly, people went back and forth on the Santa Fe Trail; it was a trade route. The Trail of Tears was a one-time trail, from east to west, from the Cherokee homeland into exile.

I think now I'll be able to keep them straight.

My Name ... according to Alia

So as to differentiate between the two grandmothers, it was discussed amongst some people who live here what my grandma-name should be. Lu (Nathan's mom) is Grandma. Some of the family (but especially Andrew) decided I should be Nanna. For days they tried to teach Alia to call me Nanna. She finally complied.

For about a week.

Wednesday she decided I was "Grandma." Funny to see her and her 18-yr-old uncle arguing over whether my name is Nanna or Grandma!


For those of you who haven't met me and my eldest, here's a picture. We do look just a little bit similar. So the computer's screen-saver is rolling through pictures; Alia is watching; a picture of Rachel pops up on the screen; and Alia says, "Grandma!"

:-)