Satan Doesn't Care

Best line from last week's sermon at the church we were visiting:

Satan doesn't care so much whether you sin,
but where you turn when you do.

Lobotomy

My brain changed. 

Gary and I have noticed that, since my brain injury, I've been less emotional.  I don't cry anymore.  Well, let's say I don't blubber anymore. There have been occasional times where a tear or two might be shed.  This is weird, although not exactly unwelcome.

Last night he showed me a website with optical illusions.  For one trick, you stare at a picture's negative for 15 seconds, and then the positive image appears next to it.  It didn't work for me.  I did try a colored one this morning -- one that's in our set of old-fashioned encyclopedias (book form instead of Wiki).  That illusion worked, but not as well as it used to.

There was another illusion that Gary thought was mega-cool.  He showed it to me.  It was nifty and sparkly and kind of freaked you out how it worked.  But after a few seconds, there was a sharp, stabbing pain in my brain. 

Last year I could not watch the fireworks in summer.  After the first one went off, I had to get away immediately; the pain was intense and I thought my head would explode.  I don't know how much healing I've had and what this summer's firework displays will do to my brain.

Maggie and I decided my "Test of Tears" will be when I watch Something the Lord Made.  If I can watch that with only a few tears, we will have proof positive that my aneurysm blow-up was also a lobotomy.

Notes from Bible Class

"The glory of God's undying love" didn't die ... even when He did. 


John 3:6  -- "That which is born of the flesh is flesh.  That which is born of the Spirit is spirit."
That's like in Genesis 1: "after its own kind."


John 3:11 -- Nicodemus was a teacher in Israel.  Jesus thought he obviously should've known the things Jesus was talking about -- known them from the Old Testament scriptures.  Jesus says, "We speak what We know and testify what We have seen."  That's like in Luke 24 where Jesus shows the disciples how the entire Old Testament is all about Him and His atoning work.  Nicodemus should've known the first promise of salvation (Gen 3:15), He should've known the story about the bronze serpent (Num 21).  He should've known about the "Son of Man" (in Daniel).  He should've known about all those water stories (Gen 8, Ex 14, Josh 3, Jonah, et al) and also how washing was used in the tabernacle worship.  He should've known about the Spirit's blowing where He wills (Gen 1, Psalms, 1 Kings 19, et al).  But when Nicodemus didn't know these things that he should've known, what does Jesus do?  He talks about the Son of God on the cross, and that God wants to save, not to condemn.

Reading Challenge 2015

How to Respond to Eastern Religions -- finished Jan 7
Crunchy Cons, by Dreher -- finished Jan 13

Holy Housewifery -- finished Jan 17
Wild Swans, by Chang  -- finished Feb 25
Light in the Dark Belt: Story of Rosa Young -- March 7
Heidelberg Disputation -- finished April 2 
On Being a Theologian of the Cross, by Forde -- April 13
Broken: 7 "Christian" Rules ... to Break-- May 1
Let's Roll, by Beamer-- finished May 4
Christ for Us, by Preus


Flatland
Pioneer Girl (biography of Laura)
The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You,  by Aron

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good, by Karon -- March 30
Beyond the Mists, by Benchley
Cutting for Stone, by Verghese


Re-reads:
Narnia
~ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe -- May 17
~ Prince Caspian
~ Dawn Treader 
~ Silver Chair
~ Horse and His Boy -- finished April 16 [audio]
~ Magician's Nephew -- finished May 12 [audio] 

~ Last Battle
Harry Potter
Hammer of God



With Maggie:
Anne of Ingleside -- finished Jan 16
Rainbow Valley
Rilla of Ingleside

Penderwicks -- finished Feb 24
Carry On, Mr Bowditch
On to Oregon
Across Five Aprils

Swallows and Amazon series
or Little House series (again)
or Little Britches series
or Five Little Peppers


Additional Suggestions from Friends:
Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
Hardcore Poor, by Sangree
Joel Salatin's 2007 book about food practices in the USA
Simply Classical
On Our Way Rejoicing, by Trobisch
Richest Man in Babylon
Finding Kansas
Our Island Story
Luther the Reformer, by James Kittelson
The Right to Be Wrong, by Seamus Hasson
How to Bake Pi, by Cheng (SCI 510.1)
Bitter is the New Black (817.6 LAN)

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

House of Living Stones
Bride Most Begrudging
A Star for Mrs Blake
Caleb's Crossing

Catechism Olympics

The last day of school at church is a short day.  Nearly all of it is spent with chapel, Catechism Olympics, and closing prayer. 

I can't figure out why, but Catechism Olympics is FUN.  I haven't been able to attend for quite a while, due to my work schedule.  But this year I could go.  Grown-ups cannot participate, but it's fun in the same way as observing a spelling bee or the geography bee. 

First game: kids were divided into groups of three.  It was pretty much just like their weekly term quizzes, but lots of terms, and from the Old Testament stories for the whole school-year. 

Second game: Divided into girls versus boys.  This seemed unfair to me, as it was 3 against 11.  I was going to bolster the girl-side (even if I am a grown-up).  Pastor would not allow it.  The second game turned out to be "Name That Tune" with the learn-by-heart hymns from this past school year.  No wonder I was kicked out.  (I could've "named that tune in zero notes" for over half the songs.)  But the girls did well.  They didn't win, but it was close.

Third game: Another contest with terms, this time from Christmas stories and Easter stories.  Miss a question -- sit down.  Last one standing won.  Candy bars for prizes.

Fourth game: Another elimination game.  This time with reciting the catechism.

Finally, a hymn sing.  Each kid got to pick something from the hymnal and we all joined in singing.

NICE morning. 

No Greater Joy

My favorite sympathy card arrived today.  I had the biggest, silliest grin on my face as I read it.  There was nothing silly about the card, but the joy I found in that card was so overwhelming that I couldn't help but laugh with delight.  And pretty soon, as I continued to think on it while washing dishes, my eyes began to tear up. 

In his third epistle John says, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth."

My goddaughter quoted a hymn for me.  Only four stanzas because that's all that fit on the back of the card.  "All Christians Who Have Been Baptized ...."  Oh my goodness!  What better hymn when a person faces death -- her own or the death of a loved one? And there were so many awesome bits of her note.

But the best part of all?  The line on the card said, "May friends comfort you, faith uphold you, and loving memories heal your heart."  She crossed out "loving memories" and wrote in "Jesus."

[Oh, shoot.  Now I'm starting to get misty-eyed again.]

She said she didn't like the part about loving memories bringing healing.  So she adjusted the wording. 




John's right.
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth.

So What Does "Forgiveness" Mean

"Forgive the shooter."  Those were the final words of the man who was shot in a murder spree a couple of weeks ago. 

Charlie Sykes (one of our favorite talk-radio guys in our area) didn't understand.  "How could he say that?  I couldn't do it.  Does that make me a bad Christian?  What does it mean to 'forgive'?!"

"Peter from Sussex" called in with a very good answer.  He got to say a lot.  (The set-up and the conversation with Pastor went from about the 5-min mark to about 13-minutes.)  Then Charlie continued the topic with other callers, as he struggled to understand forgiveness.  Now Charlie should come to Didache.

The Passing of a Homeschooling Era

This morning I purchased postage stamps.  The artwork is exemplary.  Half the sheet is full of quotes and history-tidbits. 

And nobody will say, "MOM, let ME see!!"  "No, me first!"  "Wow!"  And my favorite: "You aren't going to put those on letters and send them AWAY, are you?  Do you HAVE to?"

This morning was a huge reminder of a life that's been left behind.

If Your Heart Condemns You

I never noticed how those two verses work in tandem.

John tells us (1 John 3)
If our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart and knows all things.
If our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence toward God.

A condemning heart? No problem.  God is right and our heart is wrong.
A confident heart?  Again -- no problem. 

John isn't giving us a message of "Buck up and stop letting your heart condemn you, you pitiful weakling of a doubter."  Quite the contrary.  John says, "No matter how you feel, no matter what kind of accusations the devil hurls at you, Jesus' forgiveness takes care of it all and we are safe in Him."

It sure is great to have somebody who can point these things out to me ... even though it seems so obvious now that I wonder how I never saw it before.

Belle

A 2014 movie set in the 1700s in British society.  Rated PG.  A biracial girl is being raised by her dad's uncle and aunt.  Who is prejudiced, and who pretends not to be?  Beautiful costumes and scenery.  Awesome acting.  Based on a true story.  Plot covers the biographical aspect of Dido and her family, as well as the legal aspect of slavery in Britain.

Rachel told me she knew I'd want to see this.  Boy, she was right!  After she loaned me her Netflix DVD and I returned it, I left the movie on my Netflix queue so I can see it again.

Blessed Are the Dead Who Die in the Lord

My mom died last weekend.  It so happened to be exactly 25 years after the death of my goddaughter.  Funeral and burial were this week.

Random thoughts:

Mom's family is awesome.  I have the funnest cousins in the world, and some mighty nifty uncles and aunts.

When my daughter-in-law saw a picture of Mom (in a swimsuit) in her late teens (one of the photos that Dad took with him when he went off to his military stint), Mandy said, "Paul, your grandma was a fox!"  For some reason, Paul did not appreciate this perspective.

The nurses in the oncology dept are superb.  Is it because they're more used to people dying?  Or maybe it's just the individual nurses we happened to encounter.  In my opinion, they outshone the nurses on other floors.

I'm impressed by the funeral home.  They're not "slick."  They have been genuine and helpful and kind.

Boy oh boy, I heard over and over and over from visitors how nice Mom was, how sweet, how they'd never met anyone so kind.  (Yup.  Pretty good assessment, that's for sure.)

I guess I'd never realized (until talking with Pastor while making funeral arrangements) that Mom didn't really have any hobbies.  She was at church for everything.  She invested a lot of time in her family.  She had her job.  And other than that, she helped people.  She didn't have time for hobbies and interests: she was too busy providing assistance others.

We didn't eat ham-buns at the funeral dinner.  (The funeral was obviously not in Wisconsin.)  County Market makes phenomenal chicken.  Delicious call on my sister's part to go with the chicken instead of the sandwiches.  Mmm mmm mmm.

Isn't it amazing that God gives pastors who will minister to those who are sick and dying?  Men who will come even when it's past their bedtime.  Men who keep coming back, even if there be no visible response from the member.  But still they come with the gospel of forgiveness of sins.  Thanks be to God.

My brother pointed out that, when the funeral home came to pick up Mom, she did not moan or grimace or cry out in pain.  Every time somebody had moved her for the previous 3+ weeks, it had been excruciating for her.  No more.  "And God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes....  There shall be no more pain."


Death cannot destroy forever.  
From our fears, cares, and tears 
it will us deliver....  

Lord, my Shepherd, take me to Thee.  
Thou are 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.  TLH 523



ADD footnote:
For certain of you who object to the word "funnest," I'll have you know that the computer did NOT flag that word as a misspelling or grammar-oops.  So HA.

Advent Wreath

A friend of mine does gorgeous wood-working.  He's been turning his hobby into a small business.  Look at some of the things he's made.

The Advent wreath is in the shape of a cross.  It can hold tapers or the little votive candles.  (I can find votives in purple and pink much easier than I can find tapers.  So I prefer the little glass globes for the stumpy candles.)

The Christmas-tree ornaments are delicately worked and make a full nativity set.  When I saw them on the Christmas tree at church, I coveted them.  When a set went up for sale at our school's annual fund-raising auction, we were lucky enough to get a set for ourselves.  Woo hoo!





Matt's website isn't fully set up yet.  But for those of you who know us, the website will give you enough information that you would know how to contact him if you want to purchase something to be crafted over summer for gift-giving next fall/winter.  For those who will be attending symposium, there may be some of these beauties for sale there; there were last year, at least.  For those of you who don't know us, there's information on the website about a craft booth in Spring Green.  (He doesn't know that I've bragged about him here in public, and I'm not finding information online.  So there's nothing for me to point you to, for easy-breezy ordering information.  If there's something you'd be interested in, you'd just have to write or call and start asking questions.)

Mom

Things continued to go downhill for my mom.  Two weeks after her fall, there was a precipitous decline, but somehow she managed to live through it.  We enrolled her in in-hospital hospice.  Her gazillion meds were discontinued.  Not long after that, she was awake and aware and discussing with my brother that she agrees it's time to stop all these life-extending measures. 

She's been 10 days without dialysis now.  She's not eating.  Mom is dying slowly.  At one point, someone reminded her about going to be with Jesus, and she asked plaintively, "What's taking Him so long?" 

The hospital lost her hearing aid.  That's sad.  When you wish for her to be able to hear many times "I love you" and "Jesus loves you and forgives you and cherishes you," she struggles to hear.  Last time I was there, she kept reaching for the volume-control on her hearing aid, trying to turn up the sound, and she couldn't find it.  Nevertheless, God will be faithful to His promises to her.


Every wound that pains or grieves me
by Thy stripes, Lord, is made whole.
When I'm faint Thy cross revives me,
granting new life to my soul.
Yea, Thy comfort renders sweet
every bitter cup I meet,
for Thine all-atoning passion
has procured my soul's salvation.   (TLH 144:3)

Anniversary

The doctor has been telling me all along, "You're still healing.  You have to give yourself a full year."

Okay.  It's been a year now.

Changes to learn to live with:
~ sciatica
~ need for an extra two hours of sleep per night
~ headaches when I overdo
~ a perpetual infection that needs to be kept to a minimum
~ introversion has been greatly magnified
~ walking slower 
~ easier to get rashes and sunburn
~ fuzzy-brainedness (that irritates Gary when I complain of it because he says I still have a better memory and thinking ability than most people ... which doesn't make it any easier for me to adjust to)

BUT ...
I'm talking, driving, going to work, and able to do pretty much whatever I did before (except that I must do So Much Less of it.)

Mom's Escapades

When a frail woman's walker meets a snag on the parking lot, at the same time a gust of wind pushes at her, the results are not happy. 

My mom fell last week.  She was unresponsive.  The trauma team's first concern was the bleeding in her head.  Second concern was getting her on dialysis.  They finally got around to a feeding tube, both for nutrition and some critical daily medicine that's available orally but not for IV's.  For the first few days there were some brief periods of mumbled speech and quasi-awareness.  But after three days she finally began to wake up.  That's also how long it took us to convince the doctors to take x-rays to check for a broken hip. "Our first concern is the head trauma."  Right, guys.  And that's been stabilized, so quit poo-pooing her excruciating pain and check for broken bones.

After two days of her "being here" again, delirium set in.  My brother finally convinced the doctors to treat the infection she had begun prior to the fall, the infection which was the reason for taking Mom out to the doctor last week, which was when she fell. 

Mom is lucid again and has improved enough to leave ICU.


At one point last week, when she was first beginning to wake up and there was great pain from being repositioned, Mom said, "Jesus died for me.  That's all that matters.  He died for me.  That's the big thing."  Yes.

And when I was remarking on her doozy of a black eye, I suggested that she looked like she'd been in a fight.  "A fight with the sidewalk," she mumbled.  Yes.  I agreed.  Mom quipped, "The sidewalk won."  Ah, a sense of humor peeking out from behind all those injuries!

Garden Report

Strawberry bed is under control.  It did not receive necessary attention last summer, so it was thinned-with-a-vengeance in the last couple of weeks.  Soil somewhat loosened, without threatening the roots of remaining plants.  A couple inches of compost applied.  I have Good Intentions (TM) of treating the bed properly after the plants bear this year.

Last year's dead vines have been burned to a small pile of ash.  That was no simple feat, but it has been accomplished.

Gary cleaned out the dead asparagus leftover from last year.  I really should get out there and till a bit, before the new growth begins to pop up.  It's weedy.

A bunch of last year's leaves have been piled deep on one of the raised beds, with potatoes planted [today] in those nice loose leaves.  I've been seeing good results in both growth and harvesting when the potatoes aren't buried in dirt.  I topped the humongous pile of leaves with some of that lovely old compost, partly to encourage the leaves to compost down, but mostly to keep the leaves from blowing away. 

I took some of that spare compost and filled in the big hole by my clothesline.  After septic-line repairs last fall, the soil has settled badly.  I planted a bit of grass seed there.  And I laughed at the oddball spots the tulips are popping up after last fall's visit from the backhoe and the whole dirt-rearrangement scheme.

Lots of pruning to do -- fruit trees, berries, grapes.
Still need to get a bed ready for lettuces.
Lots more outdoor work awaits, but I'm trying to prioritize tasks and to limit how much I allow myself to do.  Can't overtire because of the repercussions to health.

Jam-Packed Parking Lots

Menards, on the first lovely, warm, springy weekend-day after a long Wisconsin winter

rivals the parking lot of

a Walmart on the Saturday before Christmas.

People checking out with rakes,
building materials,
landscaping paraphenalia,
bushes or seeds to plant,
and anything else to do with OUTDOORS.

'Tis the Word

Mark the sacrifice appointed,
see who bears the awful load.
'Tis the Word,
the Lord's anointed,
Son of Man
and Son of God.

Palm Sunday.  Palms.  Donkey.  Crowds.  The Passover psalm applied to Jesus.  "His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things were written about Him and that they had done these things to Him" (John 12). 

Wait a minute.

These things --these things in Zechariah and the Psalms-- were written about Him. 

Moses wrote stories about Jesus.
Isaiah wrote about Jesus.
David wrote about Jesus.
Jeremiah wrote about Jesus.
Joshua and Samuel and Ezekiel and Solomon wrote about Jesus.

All those stories about Jephthah and Samson and Isaac and Ezra and Aaron and Nebuchadnezzar and Abel and Daniel -- they show us stuff about Jesus.  So when we sing this week, "Tis the Word," and when we're reading the story of Jesus' trial and scourging and crucifixion, it IS the "Word," the scriptures' stories, all tied up in one Man's suffering and death.

"Even If I Have to Die With You ..."

Peter swore up and down that he wouldn't deny Jesus. 
Jesus said he would.

From our vantage point, we see the story unfold.  We see the courtyard of the high priest and how Peter swore up and down that he didn't know Jesus. 

My son pointed out something today I'd never noticed.  In the upper room, Peter really meant it.  Not only did he have "good intentions," but he began to follow through out at the Garden of Gethsemane.  The soldiers arrive.  Peter draws his sword and starts to fight.  He was going to stick by Jesus, even if he had to die with Him, and fight those enemies.

But Jesus said to put the sword away. 
Put the sword away?!
What kind of nonsense is that?!
Dying in a fight is one thing.
That would be protecting yourself, but losing in the end.
But to give up?
To die willingly?
To accept the unfair attack without hitting back?

That's when Peter said, "I'm outta here" and "I do not know this fellow."




A Lamb goes uncomplaining forth
the guilt of all men bearing....
O wondrous love! 
What hast thou done?
The Father offers up His Son.
The Son content descendeth.  [Gerhardt]

Jesus is weird [Isaiah 55:7-9].

Boring Old Update

No matter how much vacuuming and dusting we do, it's never done.  One of the cats is shedding abominably.  I keep wishing I were heartless enough to shave her bald.

This coming week: church every single day!  This is the week I live for.

The just-past week: Besides work, we
a) celebrated a birthday by seeing Cinderella in the theatre.  It was amazing!  We also ate walleye and french fries at Culver's.  Mmmmm.
b) dealt with a pair of broken glasses that were less than two months old.  The frames must have been defective.  But it took three trips to a nearby city and a phone call to the national headquarters before we could resolve who was paying for the replacement.
c) one day of errands with ELEVEN stops: drop off a kid; bank; courthouse; liquor store; grocery storre; Target; Best Buy; Aldi; another bank; another grocery store; and a stop at church.  Almost 3 1/2 hours, but boy oh boy, it wiped me out.
d) filled out legal paperwork ... and wondered why I had to get it off the internet ... because the snail-mail forms never showed up in our mailbox.  So where are those snail-mail forms with name and address and birthdate and other bits of personal information?

Last week:
A humongous mess as I took over the whole choir room at church to divide up the files I've been sorting since September.  I finally arrived at the point where I couldn't thin and rearrange any more, not until I got everything out at once and reshuffled.  It exhausted my mind and my body, but now I can return to working on small portions of the project in reasonably-sized doses.

What else?

Mom moved into a assisted-living/nursing home arrangement.  She loves the place.

I worked on the strawberry bed before the weather turned icy again.  I have no clue whatsoever how we're going to handle the garden space, plants, compost, brush, etc.  Lack of time and energy means reducing the amount of work/commitments I make.  And I'm not good at backing out of things I think are important.

Maggie's been continuing to work out and her weight/size are stable.  I however have been eating too much chocolate. 

Gary got a few new teeth and is adjusting to them.

I'm almost done with the new Mitford book.  I love Mitford.  Part of me wants to just start reading the series over again right away.  But I'm going to stick with my reading plan and fit in a few other things first.  Honestly, though, I wouldn't be surprised to find myself going back to At Home in Mitford soon.

Now, to make some bread, clean some floors, and finish Mitford ... bye-bye.