Poiema Portfolio

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

2012-01-31T22:55:00.003-06:00

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I waited too long to read this book, probably because the title makes it sound like something boring and straight-laced. It is not! Chesterton engages in a game of verbal ping-pong, bouncing around modernist notions such as evolution, progress, equality, materialism, crime as a disease, miracles, and science. Sometimes I would get bogged down because he can talk an issue to death. But most of the time I found him pithy, witty, humorous, and profound. Always, Chesterton was able to lucidly argue his way through modern truisms and come to the finish line: TRUTH as contained in orthodox Christianity. Highly recommended.

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Smoothies and Mom Toys

2011-12-13T16:52:00.000-06:00

My recipe for pink smoothies, which I posted w-a-y back in 2006, when I first started blogging, has served us well. I still make smoothies several times a week, an excuse to call the troops together for a break and a few moments of conversation. They are refreshing when the weather is hot, and when winter comes we enjoy them in front of the fire. A couple of things have changed: 4-oz. smoothies are no longer large enough for teens! I buy yogurt by the quart in order to accommodate. The other thing that has changed is that I now have a "Mom toy" for garnishing the smoothies with real whipped cream. The kids bought a whipped cream dispenser for me for Christmas a few years ago and it is fun to use.

Often we think of family traditions as they relate to holidays and birthdays, but the little rituals woven into our daily routines contribute so much color and strength to the fabric of our lives. I treasure the fleeting moments I have with my young adults and find that the time I spend in the kitchen, whether it is to prepare a meal or a smoothie, is one of the best tools in my arsenal for creating an atmosphere of togetherness.

Post-Feast

2011-11-28T22:47:00.000-06:00

Like the savory smells that linger in the kitchen after Thanksgiving Day, the memory of a lovely Thanksgiving feast leaves a residual glow in the heart. There are many pieces to the mosaic:

The sparkle of fine crystal and the patina of well-loved silver
Mom's tangy-tart cranberry sauce
A pause for praise, offered from honest lips
Lighthearted word-play over a game of Apples-to-Apples
Grazing on leftovers in the evening, while perusing a fat newspaper
A bedtime meditation and prayer

I like best to celebrate Thanksgiving in my own home. Even during the years when we traveled 3 hours to be with family, we rose early to host a Thanksgiving breakfast in our home for the waifs and wanderers who found their way to our table: A Japanese student. A young military man. An aspiring rock star. The elderly widow. A middle aged divorcee...Some guests have faded from memory and others have become "regulars"at our table.

The food on the table might be traditional...or not. This year I carefully roasted the turkey using Cook's Illustrated instructions and I tried a new recipe for fennel stuffing (a keeper!) But other years we've had quiche, pumpkin soup, stuffed pork loin, or grilled sirloin. No pumpkin pie because I cannot make good pie crust, but a pumpkin cream cheese cake roll or a marbled cheesecake will make a worthy stand-in.

Recalling my Grandmother's feasts, I might try to duplicate her famous spanish rice. Somehow, I can't pass a Thanksgiving holiday without thinking of her! Oh, she took this holiday seriously. There were l-o-n-g tables set up in her basement, enough to accommodate all of my aunts and uncles and cousins. Together we sang the "Doxology" before digging in. Sometimes there would be a goose alongside the platter of turkey--seems that dark meat was more popular back then!

I am grateful that God has blessed me to be able to hang yet one more happy vignette in my museum of memories. What a joy to have such a holiday in our heritage, one that links us to past generations and yet extends outward to enfold orphans, widows, and strangers.

Blest be the tie that binds,

Our hearts in Christian love.

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

Amen

The Soul of an Artist

2011-08-26T01:17:00.001-05:00

nuchylee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sometimes we know a person in just one dimension, and when we learn something new about them we are inspired and enriched. My hairdresser, whom I will call "Naomi", recently invited me to peek inside her art studio (a.k.a. a "kitchen" but that is of secondary importance to her). On the wall, on the easel, everywhere I looked I saw oil paintings of rich depth and complexity: landscapes, people, still lifes. I marveled at her talent and the story behind it.

Noami had desired to paint all of her life, but with a half-dozen children and a career she didn't have the time to pursue it. It was one of those unfulfilled dreams, and at the age of 56 she figured it wasn't practical to consider starting a new hobby.

Enter a 90-year-old customer, who came in for a haircut and style. This lady was an accomplished artist and she encouraged Naomi to "GO FOR IT!"

"But I am 56 years old! What could I possibly accomplish now? Isn't it too late for me to become proficient as an artist?"

The elderly artist replied, "No. I began when I was 60."

That encouragement started Naomi on the path to a new passion. She bought video lessons and after the beauty shop was swept clean and the doors locked, she painted. She painted 7 to 8 hours, oblivious of the time. "It seemed but a few minutes," she recalls.

Within 90 days, she sold her first oil painting. By the end of the year, she had sold nearly half of the 80+ works that she created.

It wasn't long before Naomi graduated from video lessons to receiving instruction from master artists. Her way is to learn all she can from a given teacher and then move on. A decade later, she is still reaching higher, pursuing a greater level of artistic achievement.

Her next dream? Remodel that kitchen so as to accommodate her art paraphernalia and to convert it to a bona fide studio.

Meanwhile, she paints. She makes do with the space she has and dreams of a better studio do not rob her of the joy of painting now.

She paints alone. Sometimes she also enjoys the comfortable camaraderie of other artists when she sets up her easel at a local art studio.

I loved lingering after my hair appointment to see Naomi's studio and to listen to her story. So many of us have secret dreams that lay dormant in the heart. We never know when the conditions might converge to awaken that seed to sprout forth to life. Old age holds no fear to the one who can realize that THIS season may just provide the fertile ground for a new interest to flourish.

C.S. Lewis wisely expressed it this way:

"You are never too old

to set another goal

to dream a new dream."

Cheese, Qualified

2011-08-25T23:51:00.000-05:00

"...he sat sadly consuming that impassive pale substance known to the English as 'cheese' unqualified (for there are cheeses which go openly by their names, as Stilton, Camembert, Gruyere, Wensleydale or Gorgonzola, but 'cheese' is cheese and everywhere the same)..."

Dorothy Sayers- Whose Body?

I have 10 days left of my summer break, and I am only just now getting the chance to dive into the reading I wanted to do. Oh my, I am enjoying Dorothy Sayers!

Don't you just love this quote about the cheese? I'm familiar with all of them except the Wensleydale. I find it interesting that her words were written in the 1920's and the cheeses have maintained their original identities nearly a century later. Here is a little run-down on the "qualified cheeses" she mentions:

*Stilton- think blue cheese. By law, it must be produced in one of three English counties to earn the name.

*Camembert- a soft French cheese made of cows' milk. Its name comes from the mold, penicillium camemberti used in the ripening process.

*Gruyere- sweet, a little salty, with a grainy mouth feel. Named for a town in Switzerland, it is the familiar swiss cheese we love to use in quiche and fondues.

*Wensleydale- new to me, but my internet search tells me it is still widely loved and popular. First made by the monks in the Roquefort region of France, it is crumbly, moist, and can be made from the milk of either cows or ewes. "Roquefort" salad dressing is familiar to me and gives a clue that it is a cousin to the Stilton blue cheese.

*Gorgonzola- bearing the name of the Italian town of Gorgonzola, this cheese is often associated with pasta or pizza. Pungent and crumbly, it is another member of the blue cheese family.

My husband and I drove through cheese country (Wisconsin), on our honeymoon. We took the uncharted back roads, happening upon wonderful dairy farms by serendipity. Every day we feasted upon an assortment of cheeses and french bread and 34 years later I can still conjure up the pleasure. I have often wondered if those family operations still exist, or have the big corporations swallowed them all up?

What is your favorite cheese?

Art for Memorial Day

2011-05-30T06:38:00.000-05:00

Dodges Ridge by Andrew Wyeth (1947)

Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened.

Billy Graham

Trash 'n' Treasure

2011-05-07T19:01:00.003-05:00

I'll be honest and tell you I DO NOT BRAKE FOR GARAGE SALES. In fact, I dislike them because it all appears to my eye as so much junk, which I need like a hole in the head.

However, today I was a captive audience because all four of my kids were helping with a garage sale to raise funds for a summer trip. OK, I will sheepishly admit I came home with a bag of, ahem, treasures BUT I am pleased to tell you I got rid of more than I gained :)

Would you like to peek into my bag?

half a dozen pretty padded clothes hangers
a box of flexible drinking straws for smoothies
a white Corelle serving bowl
hanging shoe organizer
a brand new mandoline slicer
pretty bows for wrapping packages
new shelf lining paper
a partridge in a pear tree (naw...just makin' sure you're still listening)

photo by jek in the box

That's quite a lot of treasure for $10.00 !!

My Mother's Day Story

2011-05-06T22:50:00.000-05:00

This is my story.

The first 8 years of my marriage I was engaged in career and church-planting in partnership with my husband. Starting a family was on the back burner.

But somewhere in that 8th year, the longing for children emerged. Why wasn't it happening?

Medical tests revealed no problems. As we consulted with physicians regarding our options, it became apparent that continuing on the path of medical intervention would require us to center our lives totally around the goal of having a baby. It would demand both our money and our time. It didn't feel right. We decided to stop medical procedures and just wait on God.

We prayed. We relinquished our desires to God. We hoped.

I made the personal decision during those years to live a fruitful life regardless of whether or not God chose to grant my request for a child. But emotions sometimes run counter to the decisions of the will. Before coming to a state of peace and restful acceptance, I would struggle through tears and entreaties. Scripture brought great hope, but the hope seemed to be dashed monthly. Then the emotional cycle would start over.

As time passed, my emotions stabilized and then I would think, "I have conquered this thing." But occasionally the wound would be reopened, like when I visited new mothers in the hospital, or when a circular would arrive in the mail advertising maternity clothes. Then the grief was fresh in me again.

This phase of life lasted about 7 years. Toward the end of that time, we decided to attend a seminar for people wishing to adopt children. As the date of the seminar neared, my husband uncharacteristically changed his mind about going. There was a pressing ministry concern that he felt took precedence. I was crushed and very, very angry.

The same week of the seminar, as I was delivering meals-on-wheels to an elderly client, the woman greeted me with excitement. "I had a dream about you last night!" she said eagerly, "I dreamed you were pregnant!" I was a little taken back by this. I barely knew this woman. She was foul-mouthed and had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Not anything like the Gabriel that presented Mary with her good news! But like Mary, I pondered these things in my heart.

Another out-of-the-ordinary event happened a little later. We hosted a small gathering of believers in our home to listen to a missions report from Bulgaria. Pretty routine stuff for a ministry couple. But my heart was pierced. As I viewed the pictures of sweet little Bulgarian children attentively listening to the gospel message, I knew I had to go. If I couldn't have my own children, I would go to these and share my love with them.

My husband was in absolute oneness with me on this.. He had the same strong urging to go. We immediately began preparing for our first mission trip: passports, applications, training, videos, etc.

And then the day came for the required medical exam and immunizations. As I answered the routine questions that were a part of the exam, it became apparent that my cycle was askew. Would it be OK if they did a pregnancy test? I explained that I had been infertile for 15 years, but if they needed to do a test, fine.

The test was positive. At the age of 36, after 15 years of marriage, I was going to have a baby.

I laughed all the way home from the clinic; but the minute I walked through my front door into my husband's arms I dissolved into tears. Could such a gift truly be ours? It seemed surreal.

Our God is a super-abundant God. He blessed us with four children in quick succession between the years of 1993 and 1999 .

"He settles the barren woman in her home
as a happy mother of children.
Praise the Lord." Psalm 113:9

Book Review: Brother Bosch, an Airman's Escape from Germany

2011-05-06T12:00:00.001-05:00

Photographic Print: Robert Hunt

"Brother Bosch", an Airman's Escape from Germany", was a free e-book I downloaded on a whim. My knowledge of WWI is shallow, so shallow in fact that I did not realize that the reference to "Bosch" in the title was a derogatory term used by the British to describe the Germans. "Bosch" or, alternately, "Boche", is a slang word from the French. Loosely translated it means "head" or "cabbage", and so came to be associated with the idea of pig-headedness or stubbornness. Thus, when the Brits desired to put the "kibosh" on the enemy, it meant they desired to stop or squelch them.

I love learning history via first-person accounts, and Gerald Featherstone Knight has an exciting story to tell. He is winsome in the telling, somehow managing to make the adventure a huge romp rather than a grim war story. By turns, he is both humble and proud. Humble, when recounting his own feats relating to his escape from a German prison camp, but proud when speaking of his English heritage. He has a very obvious sense of superiority over the Germans, often expressed humorously:

"..we reached Hanover and were marched off through some of the main streets to an unknown destination. The town is all right; it is the people that spoil it."

"The Germans put an illuminated Christmas tree in the dining hall, but unfortunately counteracted their display of good feeling by decorating the large portraits of the Kaiser and Hindenburg, who stared down at us from the walls and quite spoilt our already nasty food."

As you might ascertain from those quotes, the humour is typically British: subtle sarcasm that "jabs" the enemy. I am quite sure that Mr. Knight's humour just might have been his saving grace, being one of the weapons in his arsenal to keep despair at bay and ultimately deliver him mentally unscathed in spite of harrowing circumstances.

The author's prison camp escape required a long journey, mostly traveling by night and hiding in the daylight. He swam canals, took refuge in hay stacks, endured the elements, and suffered privation. Here he gives the recipe for eating the last of his rations:

"I sat down and dissolved my last Oxo cube in a mug of cold, greenish canal water. The meal is prepared as follows: First suck your middle finger until it tastes clean, then stir the Oxo until it is dissolved (this usually takes about half an hour). Before drinking the concoction it is necessary to remove any dead fishes that may be floating on the surface, and also make certain that none of the Oxo is wasted by remaining underneath the finger nails."

Ultimately, his surreptitious journey and its accompanying miseries ended when he crossed safely into Holland. In the final account, he gives a nod to God's role in his escape, but even God does not escape his humour:

"Of all my escapes this was the most inexplicable. To what was it due? Certainly not to my own initiative alone. Man's extremity is indeed God's opportunity. Supreme in the world of red tape, far above the ken of misguided mortals, lives an omnipotent being--the Censor. In imagination, he sits in a huge armchair, wreathed in tobacco smoke, casually sorting, from piles of manuscript, the sheep from the goats. The former are destined to be smothered in official stamps and coloured inks, while the latter are cast ignominiously into the gigantic waste-paper basket. Though this little sheep, in particular, may have a little of its wool shorn off, I trust that it may eventually avoid the rubbish heap."

I suspect the sensibilities of some modern readers might be offended by Knight's racial superiority, but if you can forgive that fault you are in for a interesting read. This is a short memoir, less than 100 pages. It is a human adventure story that merits the time it takes to read it.

Hum or Hurry?

2011-04-30T16:46:00.000-05:00

I found myself happily humming aloud the other day as I ambled through the grocery store. It caught me by surprise. I rarely amble through any store, grocery or otherwise--seems I'm always in a rush. Did my laid-back attitude give rise to the music in my heart?

I love to sing and dance in the kitchen (much to the embarrassment of my teenagers). I'm pretty sure God likes the music I belt out when I'm driving, and I've been known to whistle while I do housework. But hum? Not so often.

Humming triggers in me the memory of my Mother-in-law. The first time I met her, she was humming as she peeled a sink full of potatoes. She was leisurely carving potato-peel spirals with a sharp paring knife, humming away like crazy as she worked.

We exchanged some niceties, and I asked if I could help her. " Do you use a vegetable peeler or a paring knife?"

"A vegetable peeler, please."

She was the tortoise, I was the hare. I can peel vegetables at lightning speed, owing to my year of college culinary experience. My pile of potato peels towered over her pretty spirals. Momentarily she stopped to ejaculate, "My!!"

But she was a rock. My pace affected hers not one iota. She just kept right on leisurely carving pretty spirals and humming.

In retrospect, three elements of that encounter perfectly showcased her personality : the potato salad--her signature dish, her slow and leisurely pace, and the happy humming which seemed as natural as breathing for her.

My grocery store humming was an epiphany of sorts: I simply cannot hurry and hum at the same time. From now on, I'd like to be mindful about leisurely ambling through the supermarket. Maybe I'll even hone the fine art of carving pretty potato-peel spirals with a sharp paring knife, because it would be a very nice thing if someday, I were to be remembered as the lady who hummed.

The Lost Stradivarius

2011-03-28T09:33:00.001-05:00

This was the first book I read on my new e-reader, and the dictionary-at-my-fingertips feature was much used and appreciated. It is written in elegant Victorian -era English. The book is billed as a ghost story or a horror story, but I would categorize it more along the lines of a mystery. Victorian horror stories bear no resemblance to the modern horror genre !

An English gentleman finds a fine Stradivarius violin, along with the diary of its former owner, hidden in a secret cupboard. He becomes obsessed with duplicating the music and lifestyle of the past owner, even to the point of being snagged into the Neo-Platonistic and pagan philosophies that he practiced. Sadly, this constituted the demise of the new owner, from which he never recovered. There was no "happily ever after" but yet there was a satisfying conclusion that drew meaning from sordid events.

This is a short book, with well drawn characters and a moral point. The point is that music has power over the human spirit, and as such can be an instrument to lead one into temptation.

I had never heard of this book or its author; I downloaded it as a freebie because I liked the evocative title. It was a little gem of a find and I have now scouted out 2 other titles by this author that I plan to read.

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A Tale of Two Marriages: Part II

2010-12-02T10:55:00.000-06:00

photo by andy.w2008

At first glance, Mary Todd and Abraham Lincoln seem ill-matched: she, the elegant daughter of wealth and society, and Abraham the homely son of a poor frontiersman. But the two things they held in common were enough to cement their lives together in matrimony, namely a shared literary interest and an unabashed political ambition.

Mary enjoyed a truly classical education, some of it obtained surreptitiously when she sought out the tutorship of a man who was headmaster of a private boys' school. She mastered classical literature and languages while other girls her age were sewing a fine seam. All her life she remained an avid reader and lover of the arts.

Abraham, however, did not have opportunity to sit under learned scholars but his similar thirst for knowledge drove him to self-education. Philosophy, Burns, poems of despair such as Holmes' "Last Leaf," and other classics all became fodder for his mind's ravenous appetite. He repeated things aloud to himself to fix them in his mind. He read to himself, to Mary Todd, and to his children. In the darkest days of the Civil War, when no man or woman could share his sorrow and perplexity, he drank deeply of Shakespeare's tragedies and the Bible, especially the book of Job.

The self education of this man produced something of a rarity: a political-poet. His succinct, well chosen words were always penned to be spoken to an audience, and in some cases his words proved absolutely spell-binding. Lincoln's "lost speech" was so profoundly moving that the journalists laid down their pens, listening as if entranced.

If the literary magnet was what drew their minds together as one, it was the fire of political ambition in their bellies that cemented the relationship between Mary Todd and Abraham Lincoln. Since Abraham was subject to bouts of "hypo", which today would probably be diagnosed as manic depression, Mary's ambition was strong enough to carry them both. Without her, he may not have been able to sustain the effort that was required to rise to the top of the political barrel.

Mary would pay dearly to promote her husband's political career. In the early days of their marriage, she was home alone with two small children for extended periods of time as Lincoln rode the circuit as a lawyer. When he did arrive home, her loneliness was sometimes painfully extended as she had to wait out Abraham's bouts of "hypo."

"His friends were saying, 'Poor Abraham Lincoln, married to Mary Todd'...If they knew the full facts, if they had to live with him, might they not rather say, 'Poor Mary Todd, married to Abraham Lincoln'?"

The saving grace: the ability to re-engage in companionship and camaraderie after such absences had ended. Mary and Abraham seemed to be able to pick up where they had left off each time, to repair the disjointedness and to move forward.

"Would you keep me company?" seems a simplistic remedy to marital loneliness and yet it is so effective. Visits to country clients, shared visits to wounded soldiers, a carriage ride in the country---none of these moments shared between Mary and abraham seem significant in themselves. Each is a slender thread, but the accumulation of many threads creates a tightly woven bond of unity, one that can survive even a civil war.

Engraved on the wedding ring that Abraham slipped on Mary's finger were the words "Love is Eternal." Irving Stone chose those same three words as the title of his biographical novel of Mary's life. It is a sympathetic novel, one that elevates Mary above the usual caricature of an ego-centric, materialistic, shrew. She was a complex woman, a woman who endured the tragedy of losing two sons and several brothers. She was not always able to bear her tragedy with grace, nonetheless she was a faithful spouse and I believe her love for Abraham Lincoln survived the fires of affliction. Her story is poignant and instructive.

The Dying Christian to His Soul by Alexander Pope

2010-09-04T06:42:00.000-05:00

From zaazaa777

Vital spark of heav’nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?

****************************************************************************
After laying a dear friend to rest yesterday, I found this poem to be a comfort.
I'm reflecting this morning on the funeral and the importance it plays in our grieving. This funeral was held at our church rather than in a funeral home, something that is becoming increasingly rare. When I was a little girl, nearly all the funerals I remember were held in a church. What blessed me about yesterday's church funeral was the personal touches: familiar hymns sung by familiar voices, home grown roses, a bountiful luncheon prepared by loving hands. I've often experienced a pang of regret for families who are making final arrangements for a loved one without ever having forged a place in a community of faith. It leaves a hollow spot to hire people to take care of the details. A church family provides a huge network of support at life's extremity and I'm so grateful for the cords of love that bind us together.

2010-08-25T15:26:00.000-05:00

My Antonia by Willa Cather

I read a slew of Willa Cather books when I first moved to Nebraska. (Cather is from Red Cloud). This is my favorite of them all, hands down. The description of the mysterious dried mushrooms, the snowflakes falling from the sky like big feathers from a pillow, the farm plow silhouetted against the setting sun---Cather etches scenery into your mind's eye in an unforgettable way. The characters drawn from the fictional Black Hawk, Nebraska are complex and multi-faceted and if you've any past connection with rural America, they will without a doubt strike a resemblance to someone you know. Alas for the young or the city-dweller who may have no such example in the memory bank.

This is a character driven novel, centering on the Bohemian girl Antonia, who came with her family to Nebraska to homestead in the late 1800s. Antonia typifies a nearly extinct class of immigrant women who bore the crushing weight of hard work, want, misunderstanding, and hardship that accompanied the immigrant/pioneer experience. The west was not civilized apart from the Antonias, whose inner vivacity could not be extinguished by the daily hard labor, or by poverty, loneliness, and death. Willa Cather has gifted future generations by carving the likeness of such strong women in stone so that our heritage is not forgotten.

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2010-07-22T23:10:00.003-05:00

Anthem by Ayn Rand

A deceptively quick read. You can read it in an afternoon but I guarantee you will still be thinking about it days later. "Anthem" is the first book I've read by Ayn Rand, though I am somewhat familiar with her philosophy called objectivism. The tenets of that philosophy intersect with my Christian world view on some points: the value of the individual, personal responsibility,property ownership, etc.

The title of this book encapsulates the part of her philosophy that I take issue with. "Anthem" infers music infused with the divine, and in this case the praise is unabashedly directed toward the "I" or man's ego. Ayn Rand seems to believe there is no power higher than man's reason. I choose to believe that reason must bow to God, and that my thoughts are judged by the higher revelation contained in His Word (the Bible).

Nevertheless, this book presents a valuable exercise in considering where collectivism leads us. Very apropos for our times, especially in light of the political ideas being bounced around today, i.e. "collective salvation", social justice, and equality. She paints a chillingly accurate picture of where these popular ideas will lead a society. Antithetically, she drops rosy hints about where objectivism leads and here is where I feel her to be unrealistic & Utopian. Why is she able to see man's sin so clearly in collectivism but fails to see that those same seeds must be harbored also in the heart of the free & reasonable man?

I'm looking forward to discussing this book in depth with my 16 yr old son this year. There's a fine line between respect for the individual and worship of the individual, and I can't wait to bounce these ideas around verbally. The Sovereign God who declared Himself the "I AM" created us in His image. I am an individual with the freedom to make choices because of how HE made me. I celebrate my individuality but I do not worship it. Just goes to show you, religion can be neatly divided into two antithetical camps: you either acknowledge JEHOVAH IS GOD or you claim I AM GOD. I recommend this book if you like to wrestle with philosophy and think about where it leads society.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars
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Tale of Two Marriages: Part I

2010-07-21T10:00:00.001-05:00

photo by andy.w2008

A.W. Tozer is one of my spiritual heroes. I'm now in my fourth decade of reading his incisive, literary books and essays, and have greatly benefited from his other-worldly perspective. Sadly, Tozer did not attain hero status in the eyes of his wife.

A portrait of the marriage of A.W. and Ada Tozer is chronicled in Tozer's biography, A Passion for God by Lyle Dorsett. Tozer's entry into the "deeper life," the place of mystical communion with God for which he was so respected, was birthed in the living room of his (then future) Mother-in-law. The young Tozer received the baptism of the Holy Spirit as a result of this woman's influence, an enduement of heavenly power that would launch him into a fruitful, lifelong ministry as preacher, prophet, and penman for God.

Ada was a lovely and very suitable marriage partner for the young, serious, and largely untrained preacher. Possessing a godly family heritage, she was both literate and wise. One can easily see how her gifts complemented her husband's drive and desire to be self educated and effective in using pulpit and pen.

It is unclear to me whether Ada and A.W. were ever truly soul mates. From the beginning, it seemed that A.W. had one burning desire: to know God. Everything else was incidental. In reading the early history of their marriage I almost felt out-of-breath as I traced A.W.'s course. He accepted calls to preach at the drop of a hat and sometimes Ada was left behind to secure her own passage as best she could manage. The telling of the story made me feel as though there was never time for them to focus on each other or build a strong marital foundation.

Through the decades, Ada seemed always to be two steps behind A. W. She had to secure transportation to church services as best she could by depending on others, since her husband refused to purchase an automobile. Sometimes she walked a considerable distance to church and arrived shivering from the cold, harsh Chicago winter.

Struggling with the elements was only a small part of what Ada had to deal with. Being the one partner who was always home with their seven children, her management skills were honed to the maximum in order to stretch a "half sized" paycheck to cover daily necessities for the growing brood. Why was this popular preacher's paycheck only half sized? Because A.W. disdained money. He usually returned half of his paycheck back to the church and often refused pay increases.

Most likely, A.W. Tozer was never purposely ill-intentioned toward his wife and family, but he was so singly focused on spiritual matters that his managing of practical matters bordered on insensitivity. How do two people thrive in a marriage when, for years and years, they live and move and breathe in entirely different spheres, when one is feasting on living ideas and stimulating conversations and the other is left to feast on macaroni and cheese day after day?

If Ada did not thrive, she survived. She had too much dignity to complain openly or denigrate her husband. She "made do" on cheap food, by begging rides or taking public transportation, and to her credit even extended herself to others less fortunate than herself. But by all accounts, her life exuded a marked lack of joy.

Meanwhile, A.W. was thriving in his sphere of ministry. He spent countless hours on his knees in prayer, purportedly the secret to his heavenly perspective, his powerful preaching, and his prolific writing. Young people, especially college students, benefited greatly from his ministry and he had countless speaking and conference engagements.

As I was considering the contrast between husband and wife's circumstances, it struck me that the rich writing that I have hungrily devoured was purchased at the expense of Mrs. A.W. Tozer, all of which leads me to ask: could it have been different? If the Tozer's had enjoyed a sizzling marriage, would his focus have shifted? Would his brilliant spiritual perspective have been pulled down to mediocrity? Dare I ask....would it have been better for a man like A.W. Tozer to remain unmarried?

Because I am a pastor's wife, or perhaps only because I am a woman, my sympathies are aroused and I am indignant for Ada Tozer. My mind envisions how wrongs might have been remedied and inwardly I scold Ada's insensitive husband. Then the counter arguments present themselves; great things are achieved at great cost. Both members of the marriage sacrificed themselves in different ways, and as this biography reveals, even the greatest and best among us are still only flawed earthen vessels.

A.W. said, toward the end of his life, "I've had a lonely life."

Hauntingly, Ada's recorded words were very similar: "No one knew what a lonely life I had."

There is a sense of sadness when one reads those words. Surely the difficult circumstances were not insurmountable, surely God intended joy in the midst of such circumstances. Why did they fail to penetrate the loneliness, to share the joy?

My personal experience leads me to believe that loneliness can be endured if there are sure occasions of emotional connection to look forward to. When those connecting times wane, I think that the human soul seeks to build a protective shell around the heart, a shield against the pain of loneliness. A vicious cycle is established---it becomes increasingly difficult to bridge the barrier between two beating hearts. The story of A.W. and Ada Tozer gives me renewed impetus to keep and hold sacred regular times of connecting emotionally with my beloved. Youth can rely on spontaneity, but as the years go by and responsibilities increase it takes a purposeful effort to guard spaces of time set apart for strengthening the tie that binds.

I am left with a profound sense of gratitude to both A.W. and Ada Tozer for their sacrifices and gifts that continue to strengthen my spiritual life. I am also left with the great certainty that in spite of the joy they may have missed in this life, there is a Biblical guarantee that

"Those who sow in tears

Shall reap in joy"
Psalm 126:5

Johnny Do-It-All

2010-07-14T10:14:00.003-05:00

by gedtee

When asked about his future plans, my 16 year old son makes no bones about wanting to be a
"renaissance man," someone who has broad range of interests and knowledge. I muse on our conversation and smile. I smile because I am pleased.

There was a time when I might have been anxious about the fact that he doesn't have anything definite pinned down, hasn't charted a specific course for his future. I've relaxed considerably the past few years as I have seen the fruits of letting go, of easing up on the reins of my control inch-by- inch in favor of letting him make choices.

Homeschool Moms love to direct. They love to make lists of books to read and they enjoy designing projects and field trips and learning experiences for their children. The problem is, Moms tend to enjoy it just a little too much. Controlling and directing can become toxic and addictive. I see this in myself and yes, I see this as a weakness in homeschooling Moms in general. When our careful input bears fruit and we see them mature at an early age---we are loathe to let them take flight. They have thrived under our tutelage and it's difficult for us to see that these sturdy saplings no longer need our moment by moment tending.

I remember a poem that my Mom stitched for me after I left home. Because it has hung on my wall for many years, it is etched in the fabric of my heart as well:

I remember when you were my little girl.
As much a part of me as my right arm.
My every breath and step held you in mind.
Then suddenly, one morning, you were grown.
I was not finished with you.
But we must love our children enough to let them go.
But in my heart you will always be
My Little Girl.

A Tale of Two Marriages: an Introduction

2010-06-30T11:14:00.009-05:00

photo by andy.w2008

My summer reading list includes a biography of A. W. Tozer and a biographical novel about Mary Todd Lincoln, and I keep finding myself mentally contrasting their marriages. It would never occur to me to compare the marriages of two such disparate personages except for the fact that their life stories happen to lie side-by-side on my reading table. Strange bedfellows, to be sure, but the juxtapositioning of the two marriages elicit some interesting thoughts and questions.

It's lonely at the top. That aphorism seems to hold true even for people who start their climb with a beloved soul mate. Paradoxically, in the case of both A.W. Tozer and Abraham Lincoln, entrance into their destined arenas was granted via their wives. Stepping over the threshold, they went on to live and move and breathe in a world in which their partners seemed locked out. Is it possible to remain soul mates when living in two separate worlds?

I've also wondered whether marital tension actually serves to catapult the man to the top, by forcing him to make a conscious choice about how he spends his lifeblood, about where he channels his energy. Tension creates a climate where the man must define his boundaries and clarify his goals.

It is always instructive to study the lives of great men and women, and to consider where their choices led them, but because my ruminations are lengthy, I've chosen to write them in separate parts. I will recap the stories of the Tozers and the Lincolns in separate posts, and then seek to ask questions and draw some conclusions from there.

A Classic for Father's Day

2010-06-18T14:52:00.004-05:00

Dad 'n' Brad (My brother) 1961

Small boys become big men through the influence of big men who care about small boys.

The Dreaded Question

2010-06-05T10:55:00.006-05:00

Nickolas Muray (1892-1965) George Eastman House Collection 1931

"Where are you going to college?" is the inevitable question every highschool grad will be asked, again and again. With a steady gaze and unwavering voice, my daughter has answered, "I'm not going to college."

As if to comfort, some have turned to me and said in a low voice, "Perhaps she'll be ready for college next year."

I don't think so.

And, thank you, but I don't need to be comforted. I am proud of her decision, one that she made prayerfully and carefully.

If not college, then *what*?? I will answer that question with another question, the same one that Melody asked me some time back when she was grappling with the college decision:
"Would it be OK to use my gifts at home and at church?"

The simple answer is "yes." At home she will have a safe refuge plus the one essential she needs as a budding composer: the luxury of time. She will continue under the wise tutelage of her long-time teacher/mentor, an arrangement that simply cannot be improved upon at this time.

At church, Melody has ample opportunity to grow in leadership skills as well as musically. The responsibilities she carries out there would be a challenge to someone twice her age.

Will she stagnate? I think not. Her homeschool education has endowed her with a thirst for knowledge and a love of reading. On her nightstand this very moment you will find a stack of books: The Bible, a medical mystery-thriller, Paradise Lost, Mein Kamf, three holocaust survivor memoirs, and a large tome on WWII. Melody will continue to enjoy the intellectual freedom to study what she wishes, when she wishes.

But what about money? Looking at college from the utilitarian standpoint, I suppose it is possible her financial future may not have the safety net that a college education could supply. But she also will not incur the huge debts that would require the income of a college grad :)

In her own words, "I feel called to the life of faith." Faith WILL be required, because the musical opportunities that carry remuneration are irregular. The sales garnered from her newly released CD are being held in a special account, to be used as seed money for the next project. Ultimately, it is an act of faith to pursue what you love and expect that at some point the abundant rewards will follow, financial provision included.

Lean seasons and challenging stretches will no doubt be a part of her journey. I'm just crazy enough to believe that those experiences, too, will be part and parcel of her ongoing life learning. My hope is that she will gain confidence in her calling and that all of her encounters, both joyful and difficult, will be the means by which the intangible qualities of maturity can blossom.

May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace; may our granaries be full, providing all kinds of produce; may our sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our fields; may our cattle be heavy with young, suffering no mishap or failure in bearing; may there be no cry of distress in our streets! Blessed are the people to whom such blessings fall! Blessed are the people whose God is the LORD!

~Psalm 144:12-15

One Wild and Precious Life

2010-06-05T08:57:00.000-05:00

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

from New and Selected Poems,
Copyright 1992 by Mary Oliver

Melody's graduation evening

More Than You Want to Know About Cupcakes....

2010-06-04T23:46:00.009-05:00

I opted to serve cupcakes instead of sheet cake at Melody's CD release reception for several reasons. One, they are easier for an amateur to bake and decorate. I started baking about a month in advance, popped the unfrosted cakes in the freezer, and frosted them all at once on the week-end of the big event.
Other advantages:

you don't have to mess with cutting the cake
no need to enlist an extra hand to serve cake
a greater variety of flavors can be offered
they are just so darned cute!

There are all kinds of cupcake trees available for purchase, but I ended up with this 3-tiered glass set by Anchor Hocking. It was inexpensive and elegant, and since it can be taken apart, it's versatile as well.

The Cake Mix Doctor is my go-to book for cakes, but for economy & ease I decided to skip the premium ingredients and go for the simplicity of cake mixes. (Duncan Hines makes a great red velvet mix!) The crowning glory was the silky buttercream frosting and I piped it on as artfully as possible using an icing bag and a 1 M decorator's tip. Filling the decorating bag with frosting is easier if you place it in an upright drinking glass like this:

Here is the recipe for the Buttercream Frosting. It was one I found on the web, and tweaked slightly by switching out part of the butter for shortening. I would have used 100% butter if the cupcakes hadn't needed to be transported; the shortening gives the frosting a little more stability to endure warmth and transport. This makes a lot of frosting, one batch can probably frost about 75 cupcakes, depending how thick you lay it on.

Silky Buttercream Frosting

1 lb. butter (4 sticks), unsalted
1 c. (or 1 lg. stick) butter flavored shortening
2 tsp. vanilla extract (clear)
2 tsp. salt
1 Tblsp. corn syrup
2 lb. confectioners sugar, sifted

Blend shortening and butter together well. Add vanilla, salt and corn syrup. Blend well.
Add sugar in small batches, until it is all incorporated. Blend until light and fluffy.

To make chocolate frosting, mix about 1 c. of cocoa in with the sugar before adding to the shortening mixture. Almond extract complements the chocolate.

Life's Poetry

2010-06-04T22:15:00.002-05:00

"Too often we see life's prose, but not its poetry."
~Mrs. Charles Cowman

I made gallons of fruit salad for my daughter's graduation reception, and couldn't resist snapping this photo of the grapes drying on the table. I had asked the Lord to enable me to savor this event, and He truly did. We had spent the bulk of our budget on producing the piano CD, which necessitated that I prepare the food buffet myself. Thankfully, I had plenty of help both at home and from our beloved church family!

Transporting Cupcakes

2010-06-04T22:03:00.005-05:00

Transporting hundreds of cupcakes on a warm day can be a challenge. I purchased 19-inch cake boxes at Michael's, and inserted cardboard forms that I salvaged from a warehouse grocery store. The forms originally held yogurt, and were just the right size for a single cupcake.

I baked a variety of cupcakes; this picture shows the chocolate but we had red velvet, lemon, and white cupcakes as well. I'm happy to say they arrived in good shape and looked lovely on the table for our daughter's graduation reception.

The Cure for Sore Feet

2010-06-03T23:51:00.008-05:00

Photo from the Washington Post
Tony Smith, left, takes Brandon Winn, 30 and Brenna Wiebe, 22, of Sterling, Kan., to the Natural History Museum

I am a walker. Last year I walked Washington D.C. for 3 days with my children and sometimes I had tired, but never sore feet. This year was another story. Our first day of travel kept us busy for 21 hours, and we were asked to dress up for our private tour of the capitol. Alas, dress shoes are the wrong thing to be wearing when you are already tired and are going the distance on hard marble floors. I felt hamstrung.

So my kind husband hailed a pedicab for our sightseeing. What fun! Not only was the weather lovely, but we had a friendly young Navy recruit as our driver. Part of the fun of traveling is rubbing shoulders with people like him. The cost? Whatever you'd like to pay him. What a treat to meet a young man who is pleasant, hard working, and willing to trust that his hard work will be generously remunerated.

June

2010-06-03T22:34:00.004-05:00

"June" by John White Alexander 1911 oil on canvas

May is usually the busiest month of the year for me; especially true this year as we celebrated my eldest daughter's graduation and the release of her piano CD. As much as I loved the festivities, I admit to casting a longing gaze at the "June" calendar page. White space! And for me June brings the first roses, the hammock and a glass of lemonade, the closing of homeschool for the season, and the opening of delicious books that I can peruse at leisure. That feeling of being on the precipice of summer is so regally captured in this painting, one of the many visual delights I enjoyed on my recent visit to the National Portrait Gallery. The light filtered through filmy curtains and the counterpoint created between the elegant lady and the flower vase create a scene that invites one to linger. And I did :)

A Modern Hymn

2010-06-01T12:21:00.001-05:00

Last week my husband and I attended a Watchmen on the Wall pastors' briefing in Washington D.C. and were privileged to worship with pastors from all over America. Charles Billingsley introduced us to this wonderful modern hymn, written by Mike Harland and Tommy Walker. Its message and melody constitute one of the treasures I packed along to bring home with me.

Art for Memorial Day

2010-05-31T13:03:00.004-05:00

Little Soldier

Last week I had the luxury of three hours in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. It is perhaps my favorite place of all the Smithsonian museums. This picture by Eastman Johnson caught my eye, and I thought Memorial Day was a great time to share it.

Buggles the Mind

2010-05-04T20:40:00.005-05:00

You don't have to be an entomologist to enjoy the unique art of Christopher Marley. He arranges insects in symmetrical patterns that mimic a kaleidoscope. The colors leap off the page and beg to be studied up close. His book, Pheromone: The Insect Artwork of Christopher Marley, is an unusual collection that will engage even an avowed insect-hater.

Why I Love Hymns

2010-02-01T07:49:00.004-06:00

I love hymns because they encapsulate sound doctrine.
Anyone who carries a repertoire of hymns in the heart will not need a raft of dry theology
books on the shelf.

I love hymns because they are timeless.
~My Grandmother loved them and played them on her piano.
~My Father loved them and sang them in his clear tenor voice.
~I played them on a great swelling organ.
~My daughter collects hymn books and creates fresh arrangements for the guitar.

I love hymns for their ability to comfort.
~At the hour of departure (do read Carol's post "Music to Accompany a Dying Soul").
~At funerals
~When grieving: My husband lost his brother last May. During our road trip following the
funeral, we sang hymns a capella for a full 2 hours. Our hearts were quieted and consoled.

I love hymns because they are strength to the weary.
Like the pilgrim who finds it within his means to walk a few extra miles if he whistles along the
way, hymns can lighten the workload. While cleaning house or washing the dishes, a hymn
can be a vehicle to transport the mind to higher places while my hands remain in dishwater.

I love hymns because of their proclamation value.
Telling forth is a tenet of my Christian faith. Hymns give my voice the means by which I can
boldly proclaim truth. Timidity is swept aside as my mouth declares the praises of the One
who was, and is, and is to come.

I love hymns because they unite me with the Body of Christ.
To hear a hymn rising from strong voices united as one gives an intrinsic pleasure: I belong to
this family. "That we might with one mouth glorify God." Romans 15: 6

I love hymns because the God who created me "joys over me with singing." Zephaniah 3:17
Only a hardened heart could fail to respond in like fashion. A singing heart is evidence of the
indwelling Holy Spirit, and the one so filled will pour forth with "songs, hymns, and spiritual
songs." This is our heritage. This is our gift.

What are your favorite hymns?

What is Education?

2010-01-19T23:26:00.000-06:00

"Whatever an education is, it should make you a unique individual, not a conformist; it should furnish you with an original spirit with which to tackle the big challenges; it should allow you to find values which will be your road map through life; it should make you spiritually rich, a person who loves whatever you are doing, wherever you are, whomever you are with; it should teach you what is important, how to live and how to die." -- John Taylor Gatto, Dumbing us Down

Iron Music

2010-01-18T16:17:00.007-06:00

Forth he sends the good news, making
Iron music through the land.
How they shouted! What rejoicing!
How the old bell shook the air,
Till the clang of freedom echoed
From the belfries everywhere.

The old State House bell is silent,
Hushed is now its clamorous tongue,
But the spirit it awakened
Still is living, ever young.

~~Author unknown

We visited countless memorials, museums, battlegrounds, and places of historical moment during our last vacation, but the only time I was moved to tears was when I stood in front of the Liberty Bell. I tried to analyze my unexpected burst of emotion: what was it about this icon that touched me so deeply? Perhaps it was a respect for the incredible history this venerable bell has witnessed. Or was it the crack, the jagged gash that evokes memory of the scar our nation bears from her Civil War? Was my emotion tied to my deepening belief that there is an impending need for its iron music to sound anew?

I shelved my feelings for further examination at some more private and convenient time. That appointment with myself came due today as I was reading Bruce Feiler's book, America's Prophet. The 13 page chunk he devoted to the liberty bell and its history affirms that my experience is by no means unique.

One reason cited for its universal appeal is the fact that it is a flexible symbol, borrowed by the people for purposes beyond the Revolution. It was sent from state to state after the Civil War as a unifying symbol. It was borrowed as the symbol of hope for women suffragettes, civil rights activists, and others who deemed themselves oppressed. Even though the bell was created to be heard, it has become a visual object of hope. Its famous inscription only enhances its ringing purpose:

"Proclaim Liberty thro' all the Land to all the Inhabitants Therof." Leviticus 25:10

I love this quote from the book:

"Hearing is our most fundamental sense. Even a deaf person can feel vibration. And it's the same with this place. The bell is the most important part of this otherwise public building. It's the universal part. It sings the Declaration of Independence. The smallest part of the building turns out to have the biggest voice." ~~ Karie Diethorn

Singing the Declaration. Making iron music. The clamorous tongue hushed, but the spirit of liberty awakened. I love these phrases.

Our American icons are packed with meaning. They deserve a special place in our hearts and in our heritage.

Cinematic Poetry: Wit

2010-01-07T06:30:00.004-06:00

If there is such a thing as cinematic poetry, Wit fits the description. John Donne's poems serve as the backdrop for this drama, the story of a middle aged college professor (Vivian Bearing) who has spent her life studying and teaching his poetry. During her final, eight- month battle with ovarian cancer, Vivian has much to say in monologue fashion. Her words reflect some of the wit that John Donne is known for:

"This is my play's last scene Here... 'Heavens appoint my pilgrimage's last mile And my race Idly, yet quickly run Hath this last pace My span's last inch My minute's last point And gluttonous death Will instantly unjoint my body and soul' John Donne... I've always particularly liked that poem. In the abstract. Now I find the image of my minute's last point, a little too, shall we say... pointed."

Vivian flashes back to a time when she sat at the feet of her mentor, learning about the significant comma in Donne's poem Death Be Not Proud:

"Do you think that the punctuation of the last line of this sonnet is merely an insignificant detail? The sonnet begins with a valiant struggle with Death calling on all the forces of intellect and drama to vanquish the enemy. But it is ultimately about overcoming the seemingly insuperable barriers separating life death and eternal life. In the edition you choose, this profoundly simple meaning is sacrificed to hysterical punctuation.

'And Death, Capital D, shall be no more, semi-colon. Death, Capital D comma, thou shalt die, exclamation mark! '

If you go in for this sort of thing I suggest you take up Shakespeare. Gardner's edition of the Holy Sonnets returns to the Westmoreland manuscript of 1610, not for sentimental reasons I assure you, but because Helen Gardner is a scholar. It reads,

'And death shall be no more' comma 'death, thou shalt die.'

Nothing but a breath, a comma separates life from life everlasting.

Very simple, really. With the original punctuation restored Death is no longer something to act out on a stage with exclamation marks. It is a comma. A pause.

In this way, the uncompromising way one learns something from the poem, wouldn't you say? Life, death, soul, God, past present. Not insuperable barriers. Not semi-colons. Just a comma. "

Poetry, lovely though it be, cannot meet Vivian's true human need in the final moments of her life. The mentor who spoke the eloquent words above is Vivian's last visitor and she offers to recite Donne as a well-meaning act of consolation. But Vivian's need is not poetry; her need is love. In a most touching final scene, the elderly mentor climbs into bed with Vivian and extends that love to her. She cradles her head and speaks to her soothingly, as a mother. She opens her bag and takes out a children's book (The Runaway Bunny) and reads it to her. Vivian is comforted and quieted by her touch and her simple ministrations.

This is the kind of movie that leaves a mark on your heart and mind, and I've found myself thinking on it and digesting its message for several weeks following my initial viewing. If you are a crier, you'll want to have kleenex handy for this one.

As an addendum: Shortly after viewing Wit, I came across some interesting information about "poetry of wit" in my current reading, How Does a Poem Mean? The author cites John Donne as the consummate poet of wit. This type of poet "welcome into their poems the rush of every sort of experience." In contrast, poets of high seriousness (Wordsworth is an example) are more concerned with diction and fine writing. This type of poet would exclude certain words or metaphors as being crass or unworthy of mention.

It's always enriching to connect threads of understanding from disparate sources. That is the delight of intellectual freedom.

Christmas Greetings!

2009-12-18T23:05:00.002-06:00

Music credit:"Nightfall" by Melody

Make a Smilebox collage

God the Geometrician

2009-12-11T22:01:00.006-06:00

SnowCrystals.com

"I had been reading one of the driest passages imaginable from the Scriptures where Israel came out of Egypt and God arranged them into a diamond-shaped camp. He put Levi in the middle and Reuben out in front and Benjamin behind. It was a diamond-shaped moving city with a flame of fire in the middle giving light. Suddenly it broke over me:

God is a geometrician, He’s an artist! When He laid out that city He laid it out skillfully, diamond-shaped with a plume in the middle, and it suddenly swept over me like a wave of the sea: how beautiful God is and how artistic and how poetic and how musical, and I worshiped God there under that tree all by myself. " A.W. Tozer

I was never very good at geometry myself, yet the past several years I've been intrigued with the grand thought that God is certainly a geometrician. Tozer sites one evidence in his quote above, and it is a delight to keep a running list of other places His geometrical masterpieces are found.

Put snowflakes on the list. After our recent blizzard, it is only natural that we should be thinking on these little prismatic wonders! Each flake is a perfect hexagon, decorated with ridges, dendrites, and endless combinations of symmetrical artistry. Enjoy reading about them in the Guide to Snowflakes and take time to ooh and aah over the gorgeous photo gallery of snow crystals here.

Blizzard Blessings

2009-12-08T22:47:00.006-06:00

A blizzard can be terrifying if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, but if you are tucked safely inside, a raging blizzard can provide the backdrop for winter's finest perks. We've made some great memories the past 24 hours as a snowstorm has changed our normal routine. I feel once again that delicious pleasure I felt when I was a school kid and classes were canceled due to inclement weather. Hey, adults still need an occasional snow day! Here are some of the things we've done the past 24 hours that I have dubbed "blizzard blessings":

My parents spent the night with us rather than to risk driving in bad weather. This gave us a rare opportunity to spend some relaxed and fun time together.
We played games: Sequence (my favorite), Mexican Dominoes, and Wii
A late evening pancake dinner
Sledding
*Real* hot cocoa
Baked Christmas cookies
Decorated a gingerbread house
Watched "Christmas Carol" late at night
Listened to Christmas music
Puttered in the basement
Wrote letters
Read by the fire
Read with the family: Shepherds Abiding by Jan Karon
Talked

Perhaps snow days are God's way of slowing us down.
At this moment, I would not trade this winter interlude for the grandest beach side home!

Secrets of a Buccaneer-Scholar by James Marcus Bach

2009-12-02T19:37:00.003-06:00

"A buccaneer scholar is anyone whose love of learning is not muzzled, yoked, or shackled by any institution or authority; whose mind is driven to wander and find its own voice and place in the world."

This is a deliciously dangerous book: delicious because it taps into the refreshing fountain of intellectual freedom and dangerous because it dares me to cut the moorings of the traditional educational system and launch out into uncharted waters.

Have you ever felt flawed because you could not corral your attention to a linear course of study? After reading this book, you will begin to see your mental wanderings in a new light. Capitalizing on the premise that "knowledge attracts knowledge," Bach pronounces those random and seemingly irrelevant nougats of learning desirable, enjoyable, and useful. Do you have 13 half-finished books on your nightstand? Do you read parts of them and then meander off on bunny trails somewhere else? No worries--give yourself permission to wander because somewhere along the way those disparate threads of knowledge will converge and connect.

Bach excels at analyzing the rhythm of his own unorthodox learning patterns, and in so doing he gives his readers the tools for wiggling free from constraining straight jackets of thought, such as: you must go to school to learn, it is imperative to get good grades, you must not daydream, you must be able to learn from a textbook, you must be able to pass standardized tests, blah blah ad nauseum.

No one can accuse Bach of inexperience as a buccaneer-scholar. From his youth he despised school and could not be cajoled into doing the "drudge work served with sanctimony." As an example, he loved physics--played with slide rules (remember those?) and calculated rocket trajectories for fun. Yet he earned only a 49% in the class. Why the "failure"? In his own words:

"The problem was the labs. (snip) A 'lab' was a set of instructions in a book and blanks to fill in. These were turned in to the teacher, so that he could check that the blanks were filled with the expected numbers. (snip) These labs were represented to us as "experiments," but there was no inquiry in them. They were just ritual for getting a grade. In practice, a few student performed the ritual to obtain the magic numbers; the rest copied the numbers into their own workbooks.

For me, the labs turned physics into a sham. I was told I would not pass the class unless I turned in my completed workbook. Instead, I turned in nothing. My workbook remained empty the whole year. I failed physics, but to this day I feel good that I took a stand for ethics in education."

At the tender age of 14, James moved out of his home and into a motel (!) He was not a runaway and his parents were not rejecting or neglecting him. They gave him a monthly allowance and kept in touch. His experience on his own reminds me of Ben Franklin's early years:

"I no longer felt angry all the time. I learned how to manage money. I discovered I could live for weeks eating only pancakes. Then for weeks more, I lived on spaghetti. One month I ran out of cash and couldn't afford food for three days. I ate white sugar to stave off the hunger (it just made me sick). I would not repeat that mistake."

I have to admit, his parents were gutsy. His father, the author of the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, provided a lifeline of support and maintained a strong long-distance influence via the telephone. It was he who finally encouraged James to "quit school and take care of your own education."

That he did. James holds no formal degrees, yet he is an expert in the field of computer software testing. His list of accomplishments -- from Apple Computers to Silicon Valley and many places in between--is truly remarkable.

I loved this guy's honesty, integrity, and gutsy passion for learning. I was a typical "good girl" on my journey through schooling, but have entered into the world of intellectual freedom and learning outside of the box as an adult. Much of this has been learned as I've had the opportunity to shepherd my four children through 13 years of homeschooling (and still at least 7 years more to go!) As he shared his life as an autodidact, I could relate so some of the ways that he has learned and I certainly share his enthusiasm for the subject.

Our early years of homeschooling provided structure and a certain level of discipline and routine. But I'm sensing a shift in my approach as the wind changes during the teen years. I covet "real" learning opportunities for my children and have noted that when those opportunities present themselves the fruit far exceeds any contrived lessons I might assign for them. A partial list of their experience would include:

Planning a retreat for other teens
Serving as a photographer at a wedding
Teaching guitar lessons
Choosing their own books for homeschool
Recording an original CD of instrumental music
Watching every single episode of Star Trek and picking apart the philosophy
Traveling to Israel
Decorating their own bedrooms

When I take my hands off and risk losing control, I gain influence. I become a valued coach who can enjoy the journey with them. I think one of the most common weaknesses of homeschool Moms is the desire to control. Let's face it, we enjoy charting their course! It's been great
choosing books and planning field trips. But at a certain point we must take the risk and relinquish that control.

It is amazing what young people are capable of doing. My 10 year old daughter recently painted her own bedroom--walls and woodwork--without a speck of help from me. She did a perfect job.

Guess what? I NEVER would have released my older kids to do that when they were ten! This is just an example of how I've changed and relaxed my grip. Maybe I could call myself at this juncture a buccaneer-unschooler? I like the ring of that!

James Marcus Bach has a website, including a learning video here.

A Couple of Movie Recommendations

2009-11-20T21:37:00.004-06:00

We have a movie night at our house about twice a month, a la Netflix. I am the official family movie selector and have picked my share of duds. I'll spare you the details on those ☹ but will gladly share two recent stand-out movies that I can unreservedly recommend for family viewing.

Good Night Mister Tom is a Masterpiece Theatre movie (1999) made for television. It is a war story filled with heartache, tenderness, and unexpected love. The crusty Mr. Oakley does not wish to care for a London waif, but capitulates to the duty of sheltering a boy named William in his country home during the bombing sieges of WWII. He uncovers the fact that the boy has been badly abused, and seeks to provide him with the simple elements of a healthy life. The old man's ability to love has grown rusty, but is fully revived when he perceives the boy's deep emotional hunger. The young man is able to express himself as an artist, while Mr. Oakley dusts off the organ and rediscovers his musical gifts. Oh yes, and there is a beloved dog in the story--the cherry on the sundae. ★★★★★

Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story is a medical drama, a biography of the famous neurosurgeon who is best known for separating Siamese twins. Our family had recently finished the book by the same title and we were delighted to follow up by watching this new (2009) movie featuring the Oscar winning Cuba Gooding Jr. as Dr. Carson. This is an inspiring rags-to-riches story and the movie managed to capture the heart of the autobiography. Ben Carson grew up in a lower class neighborhood in Detroit, the son of a hard-working, nearly illiterate young mother. He never knew his Mom was illiterate because she preached reading, reading, reading to her two sons. Somehow she grasped the fact that television was keeping them dumb, so she laid down the law and limited her boys to 2 hours per week. In addition, she assigned them to read two books per week--books of their choice obtained from the public library.

Their transformation was amazing. Ben rose from being the lowest in his class to the highest. The intellectual discipline he achieved enable him to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a neurosurgeon. He is arguably the greatest surgeon of our time and serves as chief of neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital.

Ben Carson is a fantastic role model for young people, a real life hero that makes pop culture icons pale in comparison. ★★★★★

A Mighty Fortress

2009-11-01T21:13:00.004-06:00

Listening to this hymn is a great way to end a Sunday evening. Thanks to my friend at Gumbo Lily for sharing it!

The Maytrees: a review of Annie Dillard's book

2009-10-21T07:01:00.006-05:00

Is Annie Dillard a philosopher? A poet? A naturalist? Or a storyteller?
It's difficult to determine by the reading of her most recently penned novel, The Maytrees. Of those four distinctions, Annie's storytelling seems to be the weakest, apparently used only as a vehicle by which she might display her other gifts.

The novel is billed as a love story, the romantic history of Lou and Toby Maytree. Dialogue is spare, almost non-existent. In its place we are invited to share the inner ruminatings of the poet Toby and the quiet Lou as they seek their entire adult lives to make sense of love, the shortness of life, and the big questions: How do we make our brief moments count? What is it we are meant to do? Does love come as a gift, or is it an act of will?

I could follow some of the philosophical threads in the story but kept feeling that I was not grasping enough to make sense of it. Is beauty enough? What happens to our cache of knowledge and experience when we die? I felt unsatisfied when the main characters did not come to any final conclusions. The threads of thought seemed never to be woven together, but were left to dangle so that at the end I was left with a big question mark.

The story line was not compelling, the characters were not fully developed, the philosophy was tangled and enigmatic. So what kept me reading this story?

I suppose in the end it was the love of words that kept me reading, because while Annie lacks as a storyteller, she more than compensates as a wordsmith. Her descriptions of the Cape Cod beach, the flora, the fauna, the night sky, the dunes--paint a multi-layered work of beauty, stroke-by-stroke. She has an unusual way of turning words, rather poetical, which for me required slow reading and focused attention.

I'm including some of the quotes that stood out to me.

Will I read more of Annie Dillard? I might read her almost classic Pilgrim at Tinker Creek because I know that to be her thoughts on nature, where she truly excels as a writer. But another novel? No.

The quotes:

Of Lou, the quiet woman:

"After their first year or so, Lou's beauty no longer surprised him. He never stopped looking, because her face was his eyes' home."

"Her mental energy and endurance matched his. She neither competed nor rebelled. Her freedom strengthened him, as did her immeasurable reserve."

Of Maytree, the poet:

"He endorsed Edwin Arlington Robinson's view that anthologies preserve poems by pickling their corpses."

Other:

"What gave adults the cheer to tolerate their hypocrisy? Even his mother praised generosity and hoarded; she preached industry and barely worked. Perhaps every generation passes to the next, to hand down to yet more children, an untouched trunk of virtues. The adults describe the trunk's contents to the young and never open it."

On beauty:

"In her last years Lou puzzled over beauty....She never knew what to make of it. Certainly nothing in Darwin, in chemical evolution, in optics or psychology or even cognitive anthropology gave it a shot. (snip) Philosophy ...had trivialized itself right out of the ballpark. Nothing rose to plug the gap, to address what some called 'ultimate concerns' unless you count the arts, the arts that lacked both epistemological methods and accountability..." -------->

This last quote makes me so thankful for the gift of faith. My faith "plugs the gap" and although some would call it simplistic, I'm grateful that it keeps me from the tortured mental gymnastics that must weary great minds devoid of faith. Keep me simple.

So, Let Us Drink a Cup of Tea

2009-09-20T21:16:00.004-05:00

Sugary by paulamills

I am a newcomer to the world of tea.

Being the daughter of a full-blooded Dane, my DNA is programmed to appreciate coffee. Yet there is an undeniable mystique about tea that made me feel as though I was missing out on one of life's great comforts, and so I have tried green tea, black tea, white tea, and a wide array of herbal teas. Never once did I desire a second cup.

Until PG Tips.

Our military friends, who had been stationed in England, introduced me to this distinctly English tea a couple of years ago and now I keep it in my own cupboard. Somehow, it fits the bill on a rainy afternoon or a chilly fall evening. It will never replace coffee but it has a mystique and an appeal all its own.

As a newly initiated tea-drinker, I loved this passage from my current read, The Elegance of the Hedgehog:

"I pour the tea and we sip in silence. We have never had our tea together in the morning, and this break with our usual protocol imbues the ritual with a strange flavor.

Yes, this sudden transmutation in the order of things seems to enhance our pleasure, as if consecrating the unchanging nature of a ritual established over our afternoons together, a ritual that has ripened into a solid and meaningful reality. Today, because it has been transgressed, our ritual suddenly acquires all its power; we are tasting the splendid gift of this unexpected morning as if it were some precious nectar; ordinary gestures have an extraordinary resonance, as we breathe in the fragrance of the tea, savor it, lower our cups, serve more, and sip again; every gesture has the bright aura of rebirth. At moments like this the web of life is revealed by the power of ritual, and each time we renew our ceremony, the pleasure will be all the greater for our having violated one of its principles. Moments like this act as magical interludes, placing our hearts at the edge of our souls: fleetingly, yet intensely, a fragment of eternity has come to enrich time. Elsewhere the world may be blustering or sleeping, wars are fought, people live and die, some nations disintegrate, while others are born, soon to be swallowed up in turn-- and in all this sound and fury, amidst eruptions and undertows, while the world goes its merry way, bursts into flames, tears itself apart and is reborn: human life continues to throb.

So, let us drink a cup of tea."

Book Review: Chesapeake by James A. Michener

2009-09-09T06:31:00.002-05:00

Chesapeake: A Novel by James A. Michener

In his fictional history of Chesapeake Bay, James Michener takes you to the top of a large building and lets you watch the pageant of centuries pass like a parade beneath your gaze. Though you can see the details of individuals as they pass, your perspective predisposes you to see the broad sweep of centuries. It is an amazing amalgam of crooks and colonels, priests and pirates, fishermen and floozies, merchants and mechanics with the natural history of Chesapeake Bay providing the backdrop for it all.

I am amazed by the extensive research and detail contained in this epic work (1,083 pages!), yet never do the facts present themselves overtly. Always, they are packaged as part of the intricate web of life woven within the history of three founding families. Their diverse backgrounds and idiosyncracies are destined to intertwine as the generations unfold and the telling is a treat for all armchair adventurers. I closed the book with a profound sense of awe; Michener brought forth a vivid sense of understanding that individuals are both the product of those who have preceded them and the predictor of what lies ahead.

Each person occupies only a small and fleeting role in history, but one life can color the entire sweep of a generation. What if the first English settler had taken the lovely Indian princess as bride, instead of waiting for his proper English wife to arrive by boat some years later? How would the Quaker family line have been affected if the patriarch had capitulated to the pressure to build boats for the purpose of slave trading?

Momentous decisions face every generation, but seldom are the players cognizant of the truth that their decisions are not trivial---they deeply affect posterity. I'm encouraged by my glimpse into the Chesapeake saga because it is ultimately an affirmation that life matters; and by extension--yes MY life matters, too.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

View all my reviews >>

Fair-Thee-Well

2009-09-03T23:19:00.007-05:00

cannellfan

Some random thoughts on the Nebraska State Fair:

Nebraska's fair features a cheese sculpture, whereas the Iowa fair is known for its butter sculptures. This year there was quite a controversy in Iowa over the butter sculpture, because the plan called for a buttery likeness of Michael Jackson. No sirree, the Iowegians were not happy about this idea and the outcry was so great that the decision was given to the public via an online vote. Sorry Michael, with a margin of 65.24% “no” to 34.76% “yes,” fair goers have voted you out.

nyxnix

Speaking of bovines, my daughter got to "milk" a cow today. She was made of fiberglass, had rubber teats, and was very patient.

The Paul Bunyan Lumberjack Show was a hoot! Axe throwing, competitive sawing, chopping, sculpting, and water log rolling comprised a unique and entertaining show.

Oh my, the quilts were masterpieces. This was hands down the best of the exhibitions, in my opinion. It has primed me to make another trip to Lincoln to visit the International Quilt Study Center and Museum. Quilts are rightly considered serious works of art here.

My second favorite: the handcrafted furniture in the 4H building. 4H is popular in Nebraska and there is a whole exhibit hall devoted to student contributions, everything from photography to floral arranging to robotics.

We "met" a real robot who was most cordial and asked to have his picture taken with us! Oscar the robot carried on such an intelligent conversation that we had to tear ourselves away from him so that other people could enjoy him.

Cotton candy tastes just as good now as it did when I was a kid. Only now it comes in a bag instead of on a cardboard cone. It's not as much fun to eat that way because it only gets your hands sticky and not your nose :0)

This is the last year the State Fair will be held in Lincoln. Next year it is moving to Grand Island, which will make it a lot farther for us to travel. I'm glad we had the chance to take this last summer fling and enjoy the variegated sights and sounds of a venerated Midwestern institution.

A Worthy Pursuit

2009-08-21T16:35:00.003-05:00

I've had a friend on my mind for weeks, someone who moved out of state a couple of years back. I'm glad I had only a snail mail address for her, because it gave me an opportunity to write a "real" letter and try out my new fountain pen (pictured).

Julie, my Twitter friend, has inspired me to try my hand- literally! at writing with a fountain pen. I remember writing birth announcements with a fountain pen, some 15+ years ago, with not-very-satisfactory results. Blotting, spotting, and blobs were the result. I am sure the fact that I had a cheap fountain pen contributed to that problem.

I still cannot afford a really nice fountain pen, but on a whim I picked up this Pilot Plumix at Target. The pen is lightweight and the angular barrel feels nice in my hand. It has a blue ink cartridge and a fine nib. The cost was about $6.00 and my test drive tells me it's much improved over my last experience!

There's something satisfying about hearing the gentle scratching sound of a fountain pen. It's fun, too, to add a few flourishes to the gentle art of writing.

Some might say handwriting is a lost art, but I don't think so. My Mom has the world's BEST handwriting, and my own children carry on the tradition by taking pride in their handwriting. Three of my children have used the excellent Getty-Dubay Italic handwriting system and their manuscripts look so much alike that I can hardly tell them apart! My other child has chosen to do a more traditional form of cursive because she likes the curlicues and rounded shape.

I used to be ashamed of my handwriting, but at the time I was teaching my kids to write I picked up an adult handwriting workbook, also by Getty-Dubay, called Write Now. It took me several months and some concentrated effort, but I radically changed my handwriting. I've deviated from the italic system a bit by adding my own "extras" and borrowing the best from what I have admired in others. And that is as it should be~ there is nothing more personal than the style of your handwriting.

What are your thoughts on handwriting? Do you consider it a worthy pursuit?

Guest Post: Fear

2009-08-17T00:13:00.004-05:00

Fear: A Guest post by my daughter, Melody

What is it about that tasteless, invisible, intangible thing called fear, that, so often, has the power to hold us down with a grip like a vise? Why is it that we give in and give way, oftentimes at the most crucial moment, all because of that strange sensation? The dictionary defines "Fear" as "a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid."

In my short experience of walking with the Lord, I've come to realize that fear can be one of our greatest opponents. If our adversary, the devil, can get us to be afraid, he can often get us to put down our weapon and turn-tail without a fight. If he can get us to miss out on the benefits of God's blessings, all because of the fear in our hearts, he's able to control us and remain victorious.
It seems that, so often, and especially in the church, God's people are restrained by something. Many are so afraid of what other people think of them, that they would never ever even dream of standing up and raising their hands, speaking out in a prayer meeting publicly, or walking up to the front to receive prayer. Why is this? Why do so many worry about what others think of them? Why do they remain in their little shells every Sunday morning, listen to the message like any good Christian, and then walk right back out into the world again, unchanged? Why are they so afraid to let the Spirit of God work in their hearts and change them?

I think the answer is that they haven't completely surrendered to God, and also, that they have not been perfected in love. I John 4:17-18 says: "Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have BOLDNESS in the day of judgment; because as He is, so are we in this world. There is NO FEAR in love; but perfect love CASTS OUT FEAR, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love."

When we are surrendered to Him, He has ALL of us. TOTAL control of us. We have given up our rights to Him, and now He is the one calling the shots. But if we aren't totally surrendered to Him, we're holding part of ourselves back. We're basically telling God, "OK, God, you can have so much of me, but I'm keeping the rest, because it feels more comfortable that way."

Wait a minute. I didn't think Jesus came to the earth so we could be more "comfortable". I thought He came to "turn up the heat", so to speak. To test us and refine us, and see which of us are true followers of Him, and willing to give up EVERYTHING, even those people and things that we hold dear, for Him. In Matthew 10:34-39, Jesus says: "Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to 'set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law'; and 'a man's enemies will be those of his own household'. He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it."

See, God's Word is 'sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit...', (Hebrews 4:12. Whether we like it or not, God's Word divides. It can divide families, marriages, and even our own soul and spirit.

So WHY, then, do most churches today attempt to remain "comfortable"? Why do many of them never experience divisions? The answer is simple. The church is NOT USING THE SWORD, the Word of God. The church is lukewarm. It's afraid to "offend" anyone by using the God's Word in its entirety, as it God intended it to be used, so instead, the church either, a): leaves out the parts of the Bible that might be "offensive", or, b): substitutes other materials for God's Word. We need to PRAY that the church would WAKE UP. There is NOTHING we have to be afraid of! Why do we always worry about what mere men think of us? The men who stand in the pulpits should NOT BE AFRAID TO CALL SIN WHAT IT IS: SIN.

As followers of Christ, we can boldly proclaim: "The LORD is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?" (Psalm 118:6). We have NOTHING to fear, when we put our trust in Him! It's when we put our trust in man, that we start to have problems. Psalm 118:8 tells us that "It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man." Proverbs 29:25 is also an important verse: "The fear of man brings a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD shall be safe."
And look what you get when you put 2 Timothy 1:7 and Hebrews 13:6 together: "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind" "So we may boldly say: 'The LORD is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?'"

AMEN. Let's stop being fearful, let's open up God's Word, open up to God's Spirit, and allow Him to work through us. And above all, let's NOT allow the Sword of the Spirit, (His Word) to get dusty and rusty. Let's continue using it, till the day Christ comes back for His bride!!

Use-Up-the-Squash! Recipe

2009-08-09T22:04:00.003-05:00

by backhomeagainvintage

Does your refrigerator bin overflow with crookneck and/or zucchini squash this time of year?
Mine does. Here is one more way to use it up, a great dish for a church supper.

Cheesy Squash Casserole

6 cups yellow crookneck or zucchini squash, or a combination of both-peeled & sliced into coins
1 green bell pepper, cut into rings
1 vidalia onion, sliced thin
1 small jar of fire-roasted red peppers, drained
1 can evaporated milk
2 c. grated American or cheddar cheese
bacon crumbles to taste
1/2 t. lemon pepper
1/2 t. salt
Ritz cracker crumbs

Boil the squash, bell pepper, and onion slices 2 minutes and then drain. To assemble, layer the cooked vegetables in a greased casserole dish, topping each layer with grated cheese, bacon crumbles, fire-roasted peppers, and the evaporated milk. Sprinkle the seasonings between layers. Top final layer with cheese and Ritz cracker crumbs. Bake @ 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Serves 6

To Every Generation

2009-08-05T08:48:00.003-05:00

Mighty Pillars by spudart

"LORD, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations....
Thou Dost turn man back into dust,
And dost say, "Return, O children of men."
For a thousand years in Thy sight
Are like yesterday when it passes by,
Or as a watch in the night." from Psalm 90

My summer reading of the epic Chesapeake has set me thinking in terms of generations. Author James Michener casts a large net, drawing me into the multi-generational sagas of three families, deftly identifying the ideas that shaped each generation. No generation is exempt from wrestling with at least one big idea: expansion, slavery, education, rights, religious freedom, etc. What Michener manages to convey is that the essence of a big idea may be conceived in one generation, incubated in the next, and brought to fruition several generations later.

Last year our family watched a documentary about genetics and DNA that conveyed a parallel thought: what I do with my body matters, because I'm passing my DNA on to future generations. Similarly, in my reading of Chesapeake, I'm seeing that the ideas I embrace, the ideas that drive me-- will have no less an impact on my descendants than the DNA I bequeath to them.

Another thread to my thoughts on generations has come from my devotional reading of scripture. King David had a great desire to build a temple for his God, but was told clearly by the prophet Nathan that this was a project for his son, Solomon. So David dreamed and laid in store building materials and began a different type of building. He built the temple in the imagination of his son, Solomon. When Solomon grasped the torch from his father, he carried out the construction project with great passion. And though he got the credit for its completion, David's fingerprints are unmistakeably visible on each post and pillar.

The pillars of the temple were personified and given human names: Jachin, meaning stability and Boaz, symbolic of strength. Stability and strength were the dividends that Solomon's generation realized and they were only made possible because David was a man of war and a man of foresight.

As the autumn season of my life unfolds, it's prudent to take inventory and to ask myself

What are the big ideas that drive me?
How am I positioning the next generation to carry on truly important work?
Am I building the imaginations of youth?
What can I lay in store for the next generation so that they might finish what I cannot?

Long before Solomon named the pillars of the temple, his father David wrote these words:

"That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth;
That our daughters may be as pillars,
Sculptured in palace style; " ~ from Psalm 144:12

Soul Hunger

2009-07-22T16:41:00.004-05:00

Open Doors by criggchef

There comes a time in the life of a family when the diaper bags are put away, the floor is no longer strewn with legos, and the big glass door sparkles--without sticky fingerprints. It is then that manager-mom looks around with some satisfaction at the order she has worked so hard to create and sighs. Ahhhh, a season of relative rest after years of weary effort! Life is good.

As she looks through that CLEAN glass door, she sees lots of kids in the neighborhood, many who are known to her by name because they've shared the swing set and the pool and daily adventures alongside her own brood. She knows them and their parents well enough to chat pleasantly. She assumes that their lives are very much like her own. Until....

One sweet young face begins to show up more often. There's a wistful look when the child comes to the door and sees the family around the table. For this child, the long summer days are not punctuated with the familiar, "D-I-N-N-E-R!!" cry that beckons the other children home for meals.

He is alone. Oh, there is an older sibling in the house but seldom an adult. His kitchen is stocked with boxes of macaroni & cheese, chips, and a few convenience foods but little else. It is not clean. He doesn't eat breakfast, and lunch he's learned to do without. It's just not worth the effort to go home and make his own mac & cheese every day. He hopes his Dad will buy him a burger when he comes home late in the evening.

His story unfolds along with the summer: turbulence at home. No one says, "I love you." There's talk of major changes; earth-shattering changes that strike fear into a little person and he wishes he'd never been born.

Instinctively, the mom-across-the-street finds the room to shelter one more under her wings. No, it's not her chick but she has food enough to spare. He can sit at her table and when he does he ogles at the "real" dishes! He can try his hand at an art project along with the art student in the family. With his family's permission, he can join in worship with the blood-bought saints, the BIG family at whose table he can satisfy the deeper hunger of his soul.

I am that Mom and this child has forever changed me. Because of him, I've become more intuitive about other "skinny kids", the kids who have hungry souls. I've extended the tent pegs of my heart.

Save the world I cannot, and my little loaves of bread pale in comparison to the needs around me. But like the little boy who brought his loaves to Jesus, I can let Him bless and multiply my offering. The paradox is this: it's MY soul that's getting fat!

"...he that putteth his trust in the Lord shall be made fat...and he shall give thee rest; yea he shall give delight unto thy soul."

Everyday Pleasures

2009-07-06T13:59:00.004-05:00

*Fresh flowers on the table

*An impromptu barbecue with friends who drop by

*The soft, well worn pages of an old Bible

*Music leaking through bedroom doors: violin, guitar, keyboard

*The smell of brownies baking

*The snap of freshly laundered sheets

*Moonlight walk in the park with a loved one

Gettysburg

2009-06-29T06:22:00.004-05:00

by Violet Clark

We visited the Gettysburg battlefield and national cemetery on Memorial week-end, a fitting time to remember the 50,000 soldiers who were lost at this turning-point battle of the Civil War. As we stepped out of the car, the sweet smell of red clover was heavy in the air. I thought it unusual to see clover and Siberian iris planted together- I'm assuming the clover was planted solely for the fragrance? Flowers are always appropriate at a grave site, and the fragrance somehow contributed the right touch at the very beginning of the tour.

We began at the newish (2008) visitor center, which housed artifacts, a theater, and a bookstore. Oh yes, and junk food. Somehow, it felt just a little incongruous that slushies and pretzels were being sold at the site of so much bloodshed. Must Americans make a buck on everything?

Because we have some knowledge of the civil war, we eschewed the multi-media presentation and just looked. The battlefield and cemetery are places best beheld in quietude and reflection. The rows upon rows of white stone markers leave an impact, though I doubt we'll ever grasp the full impact of losing so many young lives.

The soldier on the Soldier's National Monument represents war, the lady embodies peace. I think this old-fashioned way of remembering is superior to the multi-media presentation of the battle. We need room to think, to remember, to meditate---without all of the sound effects.

photo by slakejustice

Summer Reads

2009-06-23T06:38:00.005-05:00

It's been a while since I've participated in a reading challenge. I'm ready to tidy up my big pile of books and bring some semblance of order to it! Because I have two NEW floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to flank my fireplace, I've been doing true "book work" this month. It's been fun sorting, organizing, fingering old favorites, and looking at long forgotten notes found inside some of the volumes. I've also uncovered quite a few duplicates, which will be passed on to either the church or homeschool library. There are some books I've intended to read that were tucked away, forgotten. Summer is the time to make a plan and dig in!

Here's my list:

* Chesapeake- I remember seeing Michener novels at grocery stores and on nearly every adult's coffee table during my growing up years. He's written about 40 historical fiction books and I've always wanted to read at least one, so I chose Chesapeake - reputed to be one of his best. I'm about half-way through this epic length story (1000+ pages) and enjoying every page. The broad sweep enlightens me as to how an idea is germinated in one generation and comes to fruition the next. Case in point: the Quakers' opposition to slavery. One thread of this story revolves around Quakers, and their history is so colorful. Since Michener was raised a Quaker, this thread has peculiar insight and interest.

*How Does a Poem Mean?- recommended by Cindy at Dominion Family, I am reading a poem each evening and enjoying the insights of the author along the way. I won't finish this in a summer, but will savor it slowly.

*How Lincoln Learned to Read: Twelve Great Americans & the Educations That Made Them (by Daniel Wolff)- This is my "teacher read" for the summer. Each chapter highlights the education of a different historical personage. So far I've read about Ben Franklin, Abigail Adams, and Andrew Jackson. The modern chapters will include Rachel Carson, Jack Kennedy, and Elvis Presley. I'm enjoying the approach, learning history along with the ideas about teaching.

*Women's Letters: America from the Revolutionary War to the Present- a monster sized book that I purchased for my oldest daughter to use in school next year, I was hooked as soon as I began perusing it. This is a collection of actual letters from the Revolutionary war era to the present. History becomes personal and very memorable when read in this fashion. There are selections from famous people and unknowns, writings on significant historical events and significant personal events. One letter is from a missionary woman in Hawaii, who had to undergo a mastectomy in the 1800's sans anesthesia. Can you imagine? She lived 20+ years after!

*Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art, and Culture (by Makoto Fujimura)- an artist's perspective on Ground Zero and how living through that experience impacted his art.

*Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling by Andy Crouch--an encouragement to contribute to building culture rather than to just criticize it.

Mosey on over to Seasonal Soundings to look at what other bloggers are reading this summer, then throw your own picks into the hat!

The Creation Museum

2009-06-19T22:56:00.005-05:00

Adam and Eve photo by rauchdickson

We took a happy little side trip to the Creation Museum (Petersburg, Kentucky) as an addendum to our Washington, D.C. vacation. The museum's founder, Ken Ham, was a speaker at the pastor's briefing my husband attended and sparked his interest in the museum.

My oldest three children were already acquainted with Ken Ham via his DVD series entitled "Answers Academy," a class they had attended in our co-operative school this past year. It is amazing how strands of knowledge and events coincide by serendipity when you are homeschooling!

The Creation Museum is only 2 years old, and is very classy. It captured the element of awe and grandeur that I felt was missing from the D.C. Museum of Natural History. Ancient history came alive as we viewed life-sized scenes from Genesis 1-11: the lush garden of Eden, all manner of natural wonders including dinosaurs, the serpent, and the tree of life. When we reached the very vivid scene marking sin's entrance into the world, the change is so real that it made my heart feel literally sick. (I remember feeling that same sense of loss when I read Milton's Paradise Lost).

The section on Noah's ark I thought was exceptional. On our trip, I had been reading the novel Chesapeake, which had an extensive description of ship building by trial and error. Because of my reading, I could look at the model of the inside of the ark with a little more appreciation and understanding. Noah did not have to learn by trial and error, he only had to follow the blueprint that God provided him. Noted: "The scale of the ark is dramatic and comes close to the limits of wooden technology. With no need for masts or a streamlined hull, and without the economic restrictions of shipwrights, the ark could be made incredibly strong using ordinary wood and tools." The museum's ark exhibit is built to scale and represents 1% of the volume of Noah's ark.

Also included in the tour is a star-gazer's planetarium which introduced us to the outer regions of the cosmos and helps us measure the incredible expanse of the Creator's hand, a hand that spans the universe.

Outside the museum is a real garden so breathtakingly lovely that I just wanted to linger and linger. Gorgeous plantings, little walking bridges, fountains and statuary made this look like the real garden of Eden.

All the other museums we visited left me feeling jostled and worn, but I left the Creation Museum feeling refreshed and built up. In the future, I'd consider this as a destination and not just a side trip.

I Love Philadelphia

2009-06-08T00:35:00.006-05:00

Tired walkers!

After hoofing it for three days in Washington D.C. we opted to tour Philadelphia the easy way: via horse and buggy. This turned out to be the highlight of our trip! Part of the reason it was so delightful was that we had a tour guide that oozed history from his every pore. If he had been paid by the word instead of by the hour, Brian would be a rich man! His obvious love for the history of his city was positively contagious.*

In the first two minutes of our tour we encountered landmarks marking the beginning of all three branches of our government. There were statues of the signers. Cobblestone streets. Independence Hall. The Liberty Bell. The boarding room where Thomas Jefferson did his writing. Oh my, and the architecture that brings you back in time.

Trivia: did you know that Philadelphia was the first U.S. city to have a zoo and that animal crackers were created to promote it?

Our last visit to Philadelphia was 26 years ago. People warned us this time around not to go there, that because of the crime it was not a great place to bring your family. I'm so glad we disregarded this well-meaning advice! My son had just finished reading the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin--what wonderful timing this trip was for him. Benjamin Franklin's fingerprints still remain all over the city.

On a personal note, this city is very dear to our hearts because our beloved (and long departed) mentor Mrs. H. lived most of her life in Phillie and always spoke of it so enthusiastically. We named our daughter after Mrs. H; it was fitting for her to walk the streets of her namesake.

*Brian told us he has a degree in history and teaches public school by day. The tour guide job was a side kick, a way for him to share his love of history with tourists. I found it interesting that Brian chooses to homeschool his own children because "I want them to learn about Betsy Ross."
Apparently, she has been expunged from the public school curriculum.

What Are These Stones?

2009-06-06T09:14:00.004-05:00

Photography by Joy

"And these stones shall be for a memorial....when your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, 'What are these stones?' Then you shall let your children know...." Joshua 4, selected

I counted it a privilege to view and discuss the "memorial stones" of our country with my family, the monuments and museums in Washington D.C. The Lincoln Memorial is a truly awe inspiring landmark, a not-to-be-missed attraction for anyone who is touring the city.

This is not the first time I've been in the Lincoln Memorial. Each time I enter, I am amazed again by its immensity. The thirty-six imposing Doric columns of the Lincoln Memorial represent the thirty-six states that comprised the union at the time of Lincoln's death. Quoting from Newt Gingrich's book, Rediscovering God in America (which incidentally served as a wonderful walking guide to the city):

"The imposing style of both the large Doric columns and the statue of Lincoln himself are meant to depict the strength of the Union, held together through the tireless efforts of Lincoln."

Shifting focus from large to small, did you know that you can see the statue of Lincoln on the back of the penny? Put a drop of water on it, which will serve as a magnifying lens and you will see him inside the columns. Oh, the things you learn when you homeschool ;)

Travel Log-on-a-Blog: Patriotic Art

2009-06-02T23:48:00.007-05:00

Preamble by Mike Wilkins
Photo by Fred T

This is an unusual and engaging piece of art that we viewed in one of the Smithsonian museums (Which one? I'm having a senior moment). Who would ever think to spell out the preamble to the constitution using license plates? The plates are even in alphabetical order. Here it is:

"WE TH P PUL OF TH UNI DIDD ST8S INNOR DUR 2 4M A MOR PUR FEC UNE NONE S TAB LISH JUSTIZ N SURE DOME ESTIK TRAN KWILI T PRO VIDE 4 THE COM UN DE FENZ PRO MOT TH JEN R L WEL FARE N C CURE THE BLES NGS OF LIBBER T 2 R SELVS N R POS TERI T DO R DANE N S-TAB LISH THIS CON STI 2 10 4 TH U NI TID ST8S OF AH MARE E CUH"

You probably memorized it in school, but in case you need a refresher:

"We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

Travel Log-on-a-Blog: National Museum of Natural History

2009-06-01T06:40:00.004-05:00

by lreed7649

Great are the works of the LORD; They are studied by all who delight in them. Psalm 111:2

The National Museum of Natural History is one of the most popular destinations of the Smithsonian institution. A visit there will doubtless be near the top of your "must see" list if you are visiting Washington D.C. with your children. The dinosaur bones, the ocean creatures, insect zoo, and cultural artifacts have the potential to amaze and delight for hours. The museum is IMMENSE, the size of 18 football fields and to explore it thoroughly would entail a couple of days.

The crowds matched the popularity of the museum, which detracted from our enjoyment of the visit because we felt rushed and jostled. It was difficult to stand and read the information because we were always aware of others impatiently waiting their turn to get up close.

The Discovery Room was a hit with Artiste, my 10 year old daughter. In this place the children find welcome relief from the "don't touch" rules. They are invited to touch and feel everything from alligator scales to shark teeth while parents can (thankfully!) rest their feet for a few minutes.

As a Christian, I view the natural world as the handiwork of a Divine Artist. I don't expect my creationist views to be affirmed when I go into a place like this. Neither do I shield my children from the strong Darwinian thrust, because I know they are fully capable of grasping truth and sifting out falsehoods.

Fully realizing my perceptions are colored by my faith, I still offer this respectful observation. The study of the natural world in this place seemed utilitarian and without the dimension of awe-inspiring delight. Darwinian theory seemed to be emphasized at EVERY possible juncture. Case in point: we were standing beneath a large whale skeleton and looking at it from every angle. A docent zeroed in on us and in a friendly, well-meaning gesture began to tell us about whale DNA. Then he told us about hippo DNA. He ended up telling us that it appears that whales evolved from hippos.

Really??

Tell me about this skeleton. How was it engineered to maneuver the depths of the sea? Wow me with its weight and its intricacies. Delight me with facts about its owner and his habits. But p-l-e-a-s-e don't force upon me the speculations of its ancestry.

There you have it-- a very opinionated evaluation of this place! It's a true national treasure and I don't negate its value, but like the poet William Wordsworth notes so worthily in his poem, let my heart leap with wonder,

"So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!"

Travel Log-on-a-Blog

2009-05-30T21:19:00.005-05:00

National Portrait Gallery Great Hall, facing south. Photograph by lynch_m_j a member of the NPG Group Pool on Flickr.com

My husband recently attended a pastor's briefing in Washington, D.C. and our family had the opportunity to accompany him and explore the city while he was in meetings. Since our motel was right on Capitol Hill, we decided to "hoof it" for the three days we were there. This turned out to be advantageous in more ways than one: it spared me from driving in the c-r-a-z-y traffic and it also allowed us to ooh and aah over the architecture in slow motion. Whizzing by the magnificent buildings in a car simply does not allow you to absorb the scale and grandeur of the structures.

Our first stop was the National Portrait Gallery. Of all the places in D.C. that we visited, this was my favorite. It was cool and restful inside and the crowds were not as large as the ones we encountered in many of the other Smithsonian museums. We were able to amble at a leisurely pace and take our time looking and learning.

This museum tells the history of our country via portraiture. It includes portraits of presidents and poets, important and lowly, noble and ignoble; all have had a part in making our nation what it is today.

We enjoyed listening to a guided tour which focused on art during the depression. The federal government actually hired artists to produce works of art and paid them $42 a month in wages. At the time, "starving artists" were just glad to get a steady wage. What was required in return was that the works they produced became the sole property of the portrait gallery.

The "America's Presidents" exhibition was the unanimous favorite of our family. It begins with the famous "Lansdowne" portrait of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart. I did not realize that the museum nearly lost this treasure in the year 2000, when the owner who had loaned decided he wanted to sell it. Fortunately, a donor was found to keep it in its venerable position.

This collection of presidential portraits is the only one of its kind in the nation, excepting the White House. To look at the faces of each commander-in-chief made me feel as though I knew them all just a little bit better.

My son enjoyed the architecture more than the portraits. That was understandable--as you can see from these two pictures it is magnificent in every way.

Great Hall photo by talaba

Nature Study, The Elixir of Youth

2009-05-09T12:52:00.000-05:00

Photo taken at Halleck Park, on our family nature walk.

"The old teacher is too likely to become didactic, dogmatic and 'bossy' if she does not constantly strive with herself. Why? She has to be thus five days in the week and, therefore, she is likely to be so seven. She knows arithmetic, grammar and geography to their uttermost and she is never allowed to forget that she knows them, and finally her interests become limited to what she knows.

After all, what is the chief sign of growing old? Is it not the feeling that we know all there is to be known? (snip)

I know how to 'make magic' for the teacher who is growing old. Let her go out with her youngest pupil and fall on her knees before the miracle of the blossoming violet and say: 'Dear Nature, I know naught of the wondrous life of these, your smallest creatures. Teach me!'"

--Anna Botsford Comstock (1854-1930) from her book Handbook of Nature Study

Art for Spring

2009-05-08T22:35:00.004-05:00

Full Bloom by Anne Nye

Spring is the perfect time to highlight the floral work of Anne Nye, a contemporary artist that reminds me a little of Georgia O'Keeffe. Anne uses a unique layering process, combining painting with glass making. In her own words:

“My work, like my experience of life, is about layers.

I layer color over color and glass over glass, opacity over transparency. Just as joy layers over sorrow and today over yesterday, in my art patches of brilliant colors peek through darker ones like sweet secrets heard on a summer day, remembered in winter. So all my experiences come together in each work. Brilliant background colors express the joyous freedom of my childhood Idaho summers; layered with years of work and study, loss and gain. The tactile top layer expresses the now – taking us right up to the present, which will never be here again.”

I love the iris, which shows accurate detail and brilliant color. See more of her work here.

Sitting at His (BIG) Feet

2009-04-25T21:16:00.003-05:00

My daughter snapped this picture of me last week-end when we were retreating with the lovely ladies from Des Moines and the surrounding small towns. These BIG shoes served as a prop in a monologue as a young woman sat at the feet of Jesus pouring out her life story. Notice the logo and the heart-shaped holes for the shoe strings. These women were so creative!

Life's Intersections

2009-04-22T21:56:00.005-05:00

The wind whipped the car door out of control and it slammed into the Cadillac parked next to us, leaving a door "ding" behind. My husband wrote a little explanatory note and placed it on the windshield, along with our contact information so that we could make it right with the owner.

A few days later an elderly man called and identified himself as the owner of the car. To my surprise, he was not calling to ask us for damage reimbursement. He was calling to thank us for being honest. We ended up having a very pleasant conversation and I hung up feeling as though I had made a new friend.

It's interesting to think about how our lives intersect with others; sometimes the most trivial of events brings someone or something new and fresh into our lives. I like to turn it over in my mind at day's end, to take it out of my memory-pocket and enjoy it a second time.

What brings a smile to you at the end of your day?

Keeping House: Yankee or Southern?

2009-04-09T11:11:00.005-05:00

I enjoy collecting quotes, both philosophic and practical. Lately I've been drawn to quotes about housekeeping, and I thoroughly enjoyed this one taken from the book Cold Sassy Tree:

Miss Love was washing a kitchen window that looked clean to me already. It seemed like every time I went down there, she was washing floors or windows, one, despite she'd cleaned the whole house good last summer. "Miss Love, I reckon you ain't heard about fall and spring cleanin'," I said one day. She had come out on the back porch to empty her wash water just as I headed for the barn. I said, "In between spring and fall, and fall and spring, ma'am, you just s'posed to sweep and mop and use the feather duster and like that."

"I like the Yankee way better," she said, bristling. I reckon she thought Mama had criticized how she did. "Up North, ladies do extra cleaning every week in one room. Brush down the walls and wash the floor one week, maybe wash windows and curtains the next, and so on. When they get that room done, they start on another. The house stays nice year round, and it's not exhausting like doing all the heavy cleaning at once."

When I told Mama, she said, "I'd rather get worn out twice a year than stay worn out all the time."

I recently heard the famous Flylady on a DVD seminar. She said that the custom of spring cleaning came about during the era of coal furnaces. After having the house closed up all winter, there would be black soot on everything and a thorough spring cleaning was a necessity. Flylady would come down firmly in the Yankee camp when it comes to housekeeping.

Do you have a housekeeping calendar that you live by? Are you a Yankee or a Southern homemaker?

Wisdom: Gathering and Giving

2009-04-08T13:41:00.005-05:00

Wisdom is the pursuit of a lifetime, and it entails both gathering and giving. According to the wisdom literature of the Old Testament, the gathering process might include any or all of the following:

Honing the ability to listen and hear wise things (some don't recognize wisdom when they hear it!)
Acquiring wise counsel from elders or mentors
Embracing the teaching of parents
Treasuring wise words
Engaging more life energy to the pursuit of wisdom than to the pursuit of wealth
Tenacity in holding on to the good instruction that has been received
Training the mind to think deeply and reflectively on the wisdom that has been gathered and gained, so as to add even more to the cache.
Developing the habit of gathering wisdom each and every day

No one can be truly wise who gathers but fails to give. Like breathing, wisdom requires intake and exhalation. The giving or exhaling might look something like this:

Speaking only at the right time and in measured words
Actively transferring wisdom to worthy student(s) via informal or formal relationships
Writing or making permanent the specific wisdom-work that has become your own
Inviting others to partake of your bounty
Carefully guarding a lifestyle that models wisdom without words

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I can trace seasons of my life where I have gathered, often followed by seasons of giving. I suppose a little of both happen in the course of most days, but sometimes there are longer and more pronounced seasons of one or the other.

It seems like I am in a "giving" season right now. I've prepared a dozen messages for public speaking all to be delivered within a seven-week period. It's both exhilarating and draining! It's also very, very humbling.

I remember the first time I spoke to a group of 100 ladies, about 17 years ago. I was used to speaking, but on a much smaller scale. This larger, unfamiliar setting caused acute nervousness and I had the typical stage fright symptoms of sweaty palms and dry mouth.

Shortly after that, I had my first baby and I stepped out of public ministry. Period. For ten years.

A funny thing happened when I returned to teaching and speaking: I lost the stage fright. Rather than feeling rusty or timid, I felt a new sense of confidence and enjoyment in the process of giving. After "losing" ten years of practice, how could it be possible to advance in my ability to share truth?

I attribute it to the fact that those ten years added incredible, maturing life experiences to the mental knowledge I had been tucking away. I now had living examples of both success and failure to add breadth and credibility to the things I was saying. I had grown, not just by studying but by LIVING.

My husband, who is a pastor and who often speaks 3 or more times weekly, was discussing this with me the other day. He has come to similar conclusions that I have. Studying for a particular speaking engagement is very important, but there is something beyond that discipline that enables us to truly benefit those who will listen to us. It's a lifestyle of wisdom: gleaning it day in and day out, here a little and there a little. It's a lifestyle of reading and praying and crying and laughing and eating and drinking and working. There are many people who do these things every day, but the one who gleans those experiences for wisdom will have a fully loaded treasury from which to draw, to benefit himself as well as others.

"Spread the wealth around" may not be good advice for the economic health of a nation, but it is very good advice for those who are dealing with a commodity more precious than money--wisdom.

How have you gained or given wisdom this week?

"Happy is the man who finds wisdom, And the man who gains understanding;
For her proceeds are better than the profits of silver,
And her gain than fine gold.
She is more precious than rubies,
And all the things you may desire cannot compare with her.
Length of days is in her right hand, In her left hand riches and honor.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her,
And happy are all who retain her."
Proverbs 3:13-18 (NKJV)

Dead Poets Society

2009-04-04T22:38:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure how it is that I missed this movie when it was in its heyday, but I wouldn't have appreciated it much in 1989 anyway because I hadn't yet fully developed a love of poetry. Oh, I enjoyed it, but I didn't love it.

The poet-teacher (Robin Williams) sparks a love of poetry in his preppy students, and in the process they learn to think, to feel, to appreciate beauty, to take risks, and to seize the day (carpe diem!) I've come to believe that poetry is an indispensable tenet of a liberal (generous) education, and that yes--- it really can contribute significantly to the health of society.

I loved watching Robin William's (a.k.a. John Keating) joi de vivre and his unorthodox teaching methods. Learn about poetry cadences by doing military drills outside. View the world from a different angle by standing on the desk. Read poetry by candlelight in a dark cave. Evoke laughing and weeping from your students by living with them.

There's a bit of tragedy in this movie, and some rough spots that I would speed over quickly when watching with children. The poetic word set events in motion amongst these typical high school students, having an almost domino-effect on their lives. Witnessing it makes me want to "eat and drink the precious words" all the more. Poetry keeps us young.

Life is Sweet

2009-03-22T22:01:00.002-05:00

My husband, who is a minister, has had the sad duty of officiating at the funerals of two suicide victims and one murder victim all in a very short time frame. Sorrow lingers long after the funeral bouquets have been thrown in the trash. Though his sorrow cannot be nearly as acute as that which the family members feel, still I sense in him a palpable sadness. And I have seen the tears.

I'm touched that others in our congregation also see it, and seek to share in bearing the sorrow: a special prayer of encouragement, a tender pat on the back, and treats. Oh, the treats. Food and comfort are inexplicably linked, don't you think? After church today my husband grinned as he opened up the goody bag that contained the heartfelt offerings of special saints. A giant Snickers bar, his favorite. A slightly smashed doughnut. Huge, heavenly cinnamon rolls dripping with silky frosting. Small gifts chosen for the express purpose of lifting his spirit, of sending the message that "I want to bear your burden as you bear the burdens of others." How welcome it is.

I am reminded of a very old man that I once knew when I was working in a skilled nursing facility. He was a Jewish man that had attained the status of a centenarian. When ever he would hear of the death of one of his fellow residents, he would pause for ever-so-long and then say reverently,

"Life is sweet."

'Tis true.

First Sign of Spring

2009-03-16T22:17:00.004-05:00

As I take my daily walk, I've been hungrily scanning the landscape for signs of spring. Really, I would settle for one small snowdrop, a crocus, or just the green foliage of a daffodil--but spring has been eluding me in spite of the fact the temperatures are warming.

Today, though, I was rewarded with this: a little girl perched in a tree, swinging her legs and reading. I'm glad I didn't have my camera because it would have broken the spell. She's safer in my memory bank, anyway---the first welcome sign of spring.

The Sweetest Days

2009-03-05T19:03:00.006-06:00

"After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."

Life at Green Gables was full of just such days, for Anne's adventures and misadventures, like those of other people, did not all happen at once, but were sprinkled over the year, with long stretches of harmless, happy days between, filled with work and dreams and laughter and lessons.

~quote taken from Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Review of Crow Lake by Mary Lawson

2009-03-01T00:33:00.004-06:00

I couldn't put this book down until I finished @ 3:30 a.m. It's been a while since I have done that but I'd have to say Crow Lake was worth it.

The narrator, Kate, is a 27 year old biologist with a very successful career. But that career does not fully satisfy her because she has loose ends to tidy up with her siblings. It's something that she would rather postpone indefinitely, but circumstances force her to sort through the emotional baggage. Her story builds to a satisfactory conclusion and she is able to at least begin to bridge the emotional gaps between herself and her loved ones.

When she was 7, Kate's parents both died in a car accident. Her two older brothers, still teens themselves, take on the responsibility of raising Kate and her baby sister. Engaged in rebuilding their family life, the latent personality traits of each family member comes to the surface. Their struggles are shared as a family unit, but are at the same time personal battles that shape their futures forever.

Intertwined as a subplot is the extremely tragic tale of a neighboring family whose lives intersect with those of Kate and her siblings. At first we see these people only from a distance, but layers of their story unfold and become the shared history of both families together.

Especially interesting to me is that Mary Lawson explores the way that family members "harden" their perceptions of one another. As adults we tend to forget that our siblings have added dimensions to their personalities on beyond those we shared in the foundational stages of our lives. At some point it can only be healthy to shatter the old lens and take a fresh look at siblings as they are in the present.

The setting of this novel was so well drawn. It took place in the Lake Country of Ontario and was viewed through the eyes of the budding biologist, Kate. The descriptions of the lake and the insects and the seasons were lush and verdant.

A great novel, recommended by U Krakovianki.

Crow Lake by Mary Lawson
rating: 5 of 5 stars

View all my reviews.

Small Victories

2009-02-27T10:25:00.008-06:00

One string art project finished! The appropriateness of the design will be seen in the next incident.
My youngest daughter was troubled that two of her friends were fighting. Playing the peacemaker, she remembered a Bible verse that we had recently memorized and quoted it to them. It worked! I told her that was a good example of USING the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. (Isn't it amazing that a sword could bring peace?)
My teenage son is learning how to wake up using an alarm clock. Why should such a mundane thing be considered a victory? Because this kid has suffered from sleep abnormalities all of his life. Morning wake-up has always been a trial for him (and for the one charged with seeing he is up--that would be me).
I have learned how to make tri-fold brochures :) Sounds silly, I know, because it is really not all that hard. But I have been dependent on others to do this for me and it feels good to be able to do it myself!
Melody has saved her portion (25%) of the cost to have her piano recording professionally mixed and mastered. We should have this done by next month.
I'm making progress cataloging, sorting, and reviewing my personal book library via the site Goodreads. This is a fun project, one I hope that I can keep current; at least a little more current than my family photo album. Ahem. Guess there's always room for another victory!

Small accomplishments bring great rewards, not the least of which is the desire to keep moving ahead. The apostle Paul said, "I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." I like that our movement through life is upward!

2009-02-26T19:20:00.000-06:00

When I Lay My Isaac Down: Unshakable Faith in Unthinkable Circumstances by Carol Kent

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
A gifted communicator and speaker, Carol Kent's world crashed down around her when her son shot and killed his wife's ex. An only child, her son had an exemplary military career and an impeccable record. His trial and subsequent life sentence was a nightmare for a mother to live through. But live she did, thanks to her faith, strong marriage, and network of supportive friends. Carol came to see that for her, "normal" living would have to be redefined. She and her husband picked up the pieces of their shattered family life and have learned to be fruitful in a place they never hoped to know intimately: prison. The title correlates with the Biblical story of Abraham and his obedience to God in placing his only son on the altar of sacrifice. This is a touching memoir and would be healing balm to any parent who suffers because of the choices a beloved child makes.

View all my reviews.

The Precious Words

2009-02-17T08:52:00.006-06:00

He ate and drank the precious Words --
His Spirit grew robust --
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was Dust --

He danced along the dingy Days
And this Bequest of Wings
Was but a Book -- What Liberty
A loosened spirit brings --

~Emily Dickinson

Time: an Unexpected Bequest

2009-02-16T10:58:00.003-06:00

How do you use an unexpected bequest of time; time that you thought you wouldn't have?

We get these unexpected bonuses occasionally in the Midwest. It happens when there is a blizzard, or a large dump of snow that temporarily paralyzes the city. School children call these bonuses "snow days" and little do they know that (some) adults secretly look forward to them with equal relish. Perhaps I should qualify that statement: adults who can see past the snow to be shoveled and the schedules to be re-arranged can enjoy snow days.

Oh, and it helps to have plenty of food in the pantry and a well-stocked refrigerator. Especially if you have 3 hungry teens inside. It wouldn't do to be shut up tight indoors sans popcorn and apples and hot chocolate.

Those who wait to buy groceries the evening before a predicted snowstorm can be in for a harrowing experience. No grocery carts available at Bag'n'Save. Long lines at the meat counter at Fareway. It's all part of the foreshadowing, and with the right attitude it can also be part of the fun. At Fareway, I stood in line beside my second cousin whom I hadn't seen for a very long time. Our light chit-chat enabled us to catch up on each other's lives as we awaited our turn with the butcher.

When the storm finally hits, life kicks into slow gear. It's dreamy to watch the big flakes enveloping the landscape. It makes me sleepy. Should I take a nap? Pull out a jigsaw puzzle or board games to do with the family? Read a book? Complete a craft project? Go sledding? Wonderful options, all.

On a more serious note, the way we choose to use an unexpected gift of time tells a lot about us. I confess to spending some of my bequest wisely, and to frittering some of it away to no purpose. But I exult in the luxury of having that choice, and I have no regrets.

Today the streets are cleared, the walks are shoveled, and life will return to normal. And I re-engage in life feeling rested, filled, contented, and yes, grateful for the gifts of winter.

Vintage photo compliments of the Graphics Fairy.

Little Tin Box

2009-02-11T15:19:00.005-06:00

"I was keeping my money in a little tin box, and so I could see it dwindling away. I nearly wore out what I had left, counting it, hoping there would be more than I knew there was. (Snip) I was dreading the day I would have to write and ask for money."

and later....

"I wasn't regularly employed yet, I wasn't what you could call a "success," but my little stock of money in the tin box quit shrinking and began to grow. I started a bank account."
~~quotes taken from the novel Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry

I had the opportunity to have lunch with a couple of elderly farm wives last week. They had lived through the depression, and they knew something about thrift. When the conversation turned to our nation's broken economy, one lady remarked that she knew who could balance the budget.

"Who?"

"Iowa farm wives. If those Washington big-wigs would send the budget to us, we'd fix it! We know how to save pennies in a band-aid box until we have enough to pay CASH. We don't buy on credit. We don't buy what we can't afford."

Her words may sound simplistic, but I think there is a lot of wisdom in them. The Hannah Coulters of the last century had their little stashes--the egg money or the pin money set aside for some small luxury that may take years to realize. Touching the coins, counting them, and hearing them "ka-ching" inside the tin box was part of the ritual. You could see and feel progress as the box became heavy.

I never had a tin box, but when I was first married, we used the "envelope system" of budgeting. We put the cash from our paycheck into envelopes earmarked for food, gas, house payment, etc. When the money in the envelope was gone, we quit spending.

Today, when I use a credit/debit card, I have brought the whole process of buying and selling into the abstract. I'm in danger of buying beyond my means when I use a plastic card because I can't visualize the dent it will make on the bottom line. When I get what I want NOW, I fail to savor the pleasure of planning, scheming, and budgeting ahead for the reward.

There are means to compensate for this. You can use an online money manager and see your spending all laid out in pie charts and graphs. I prefer my homespun paper chart that hangs on the door by my computer, where I pay the bills. I need a tangible snapshot of where I've been and where I'm going financially, and how long it will take to meet my goals. It's a paper version of the tin box; it feels good to cross off one more payment on the chart.

I think there is more to this than meets the eye. The tin-box method of money management says something about character and maturity. The ability to delay gratification makes it all the sweeter when it is fulfilled. I have the opportunity to cultivate gratefulness, because there are spaces in between my purchases. It feels good to be extricated from the world's trap of buying-like-there's-no-tomorrow.

Do you have a little tin box?

It's the Little Things

2009-02-03T21:35:00.003-06:00

Ever notice how a just a small act of kindness can make all the difference in the day?

Our waitress at Wheatfield's gave us early-bird pricing for our breakfast date even though we were a few minutes late.
My husband filled the gas tank in my car, saving me from freezing in this frigid weather.
I found a "You're the Best Mommy" note on my refrigerator.
The clerk at the Rotella's Bread Store always sends me away with a hard roll for each of my kids.
A package of black licorice mysteriously appears on my kitchen counter (my weakness!)

I will eschew the sentimentality of Valentine's Day for these little acts of love any day. What little gestures mean the most to you?

Locked in Winter?

2009-01-31T12:19:00.003-06:00

By the time we hit February, the loveliness of the winter season begins to grow dull--at least for me. The snow looks dirty, the floor has that telltale sand brought in with winter boots, and I am craving sunshine.

I'm thankful I am surrounded by youth. The world is still all beauty and wonder in their eyes, and they help me to re-focus. Here is "Winter" as seen through the eyes of my daughter, Melody.

WINTER

Snowflakes fall; white and soft, blanketing the rooftops;
Windows bear the icy glint of winter's frosty fingerprints.

Silence claims the sparkling stream; shrouding it with crystal gleam;
Shutting out, so no one see, the living creatures underneath.

Daylight fades and leaves behind brilliant stars to light the night;
Pictures; hanging in the sky, impress wonder on the mind.

Deep in sleep, the peaceful trees sigh beneath the stirring breeze;
Dreaming of a lively scene, that waits to take its part in Spring.

poem and photo by Melody, age 16

Another Look at Extravagance

2009-01-30T08:56:00.004-06:00

art.com

At first glance, the Biblical priest Aaron appears to be slighted by the LORD when he was told,

"You shall have no inheritance in their land nor own any portion among them; I am your portion and your inheritance among the sons of Israel." Numbers 18:20

A closer look, however, reveals that Aaron received the most extravagant gift---a gift that made him infinitely richer than his brothers.

The gift was God Himself.

Whenever another person gives the gift of self, he/she is displaying an aspect of God's very nature. When I give of myself to another, I am putting His character on display and this action changes me. Every time I make the choice to give of myself, I'm a little less attached to the material world and a little more invested in eternity. I am being changed from glory to glory, until at last I reach the full stature of maturity, fully bearing the image of Christ to a fallen world.

"God's gifts are many; His best gift is one. It is the gift of Himself." ~~A.W. Tozer

Marble Cheese Cake

2009-01-28T17:34:00.005-06:00

My oldest daughter is practicing cooking skills this year as a school elective. We are journeying through the New Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, studying the nutrition information, the kitchen hints, and choosing a few recipes from each section. Today it was marble cheesecake, and it turned out beautifully! My cheesecakes always tasted good, but had ugly cracks on top UNTIL I learned to put a pan of water in the oven while the cheesecake is baking. Because cheesecake is a company dessert, the appearance is important and this hint has so far been 100% effective.

Do you like cheesecake? I'm glad this one isn't for company!

Ideas Have Consequences Chpt 8: The Power of the Word

2009-01-28T09:03:00.005-06:00

Community can be possible only via the vehicle of language. Words connect me not only to my contemporaries, but to my forefathers. I have access to a great, universal memory bank when I engage in reading.

If our language degenerates, if we begin to love THINGS rather than words, the link that binds us in community is broken. Do you remember the old song, "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" It asks a great question! If we cease to be word- lovers, if we cease to read--- our conversation with past generations is broken. We are bankrupt, without the wise guidance of collective ages and having no compass for the future.

When words devolve and become merely utilitarian, we lose the ability to engage in higher thinking. We are robbed of the rich opportunity to grasp truth because we're not able to use metaphor or understand symbolism. This handicap cuts us off from the past and prevents us from laying up for the future. In the words of Richard Weaver:

"(snip)...father and child live in different worlds, and speech fails to provide a means to bridge them."

Need proof? Note that languages have been dropped from the core curriculum of our educational system. My husband, born in 1953, said that all 4 of his older siblings learned Latin, but it had been dropped by the time he went through the system. In my own small-town school system, it was not even an option.

Notice also that poetic/literature courses no longer compose the core curriculum of many schools, but are considered electives. I shudder to recall that "Fiction of the 70's" gave me the necessary credits to graduate from high school, while I missed Shakespeare and Homer. My tastes were not developed. I did not know what was good for me or what I was missing.

Richard Weaver, the author of this book, writes a prescription for the rehabilitation of the word:

poetry (via literature and rhetoric)
logic (dialectic)

This is classical education; it is what saves us from utilitarianism, from brutality, from degenerating into sentimentality.

In the second part of his rx, the dialectic, Weaver notes that the science of naming is indispensable to logic. He equates "namers" with "lawgivers" and makes the point that "stable laws require a stable vocabulary." (What does that do to the idea that our constitution is fluid?)

This chapter encouraged me. It affirms my daily, plodding efforts to incorporate Browning and Coleridge and Dickinson to our our routine. These efforts bring us out of the temporal and save us from a merely utilitarian existence.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal."
~~~2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (New King James Version)

String Art

2009-01-27T22:58:00.003-06:00

Image from Powell's String Art Project

Judging from the color schemes I find in the pattern-book, The Beautiful String Art Book, this was an art form that must have been popular in the 70's. No matter, we are updating the colors a bit and charging ahead with this project. Each of my children have picked a pattern and I have had them enlarged at Kinko's. We have the smooth plywood backgrounds and are ready to paint.

I expect the better part of the work will be spent putting dots on the templates where the nails will go. I also expect that this will take a lot of time, patience, and even math skills in order to space the nails in order correctly.

We do art appreciation in our home on a regular basis, and have over the years done quite a few one-hour type of projects. I've been feeling the need to do something a little more significant, something they could be proud of completing. This fits the bill. I can't wait to see the finished results!

Lessons in Extravagance

2009-01-25T20:25:00.004-06:00

In a culture that favors youth, the aged are often looked upon as tottering old fools whose days of giving and usefulness are past. The saddest part of this scenario is that the elderly are conditioned to believe this about themselves.

For six years I delivered meals-on-wheels. I cannot tell you how many elderly people I encountered who were glued to the TV; no change in routine from day to day, no human contact (except me), no purpose. It grieved me.

If only they could have known that their moment for extravagant giving had come! If only old Uncle Jack Beechum could have shared his wisdom with them:

"At the oddest times....(snip) he would come to visit me. This was the tenderness of an old man....(snip). It was a love almost not of this world, and yet entirely of it. He brought me presents---little sacks of penny candy with their necks twisted shut, or little bouquets from neighbors' flower beds to which he helped himself.

But he himself, though he would not have thought it, was the best present. He had no small talk and few of what are called social graces. he had a kind of courtesy that required few words, and with me a gentleness that was as deliberate and forceful as his bouquets of stolen flowers so roughly broken off....(snip) He knew that I was living in loss, that the baby had been born into loss. He knew, if anybody did, that there was nothing that could be done about it, nothing certainly that he could do, and yet he came. He came to offer himself...."
~from the novel Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry**

Did you catch it? The most extravagant gift is the offering of self. Just to be with another in his/her affliction, just to stand alongside the one struggling is a gift of inestimable value. In the season of old age, time is the precious commodity that can be given with extravagance.

The glad exception that I encountered in my years of delivering meals was a real-live person named Bernice. She was severly crippled with arthritis; her hands were badly contracted and she was in a wheelchair. But she always sought to slow me down, offer me a cup of tea, or write down a recipe for me. I knew this to be a labor of love; she could not hold a pencil but by great difficulty.

As I grew to know Bernice, I learned an amazing thing about her. She had determined to make herself useful. Each afternoon, she brought out the stationery and wrote a letter to her missionary-of-the day. She was determined to let them know they were not forgotten; they were being upheld by her in prayer. When any of these missionaries came back on furlough, she saw to it that they had a gift certificate to one of the finer department stores in town so they could buy themselves a "fashionable new outfit and some beads." Although she couldn't get out to hear them when they made the rounds to speak, she took pleasure in knowing she had helped them look nice for their speaking engagements.

I still have Bernice's recipe card in my box and whenever I thumb through the cards and see her handwriting, I am warmed by her memory. She has long passed on to her reward, but her example is in my heart's treasure box forever. Like her, I want to live--and give-- extravagantly.

**Join a great discussion on this book over at the Hannah Coulter Book Club for Copy Cats!

Extravagance and Thrift: Strange Bedfellows?

2009-01-23T21:48:00.006-06:00

Can extravagance and thrift co-exist, or are they mutually exclusive? My interest in both subjects has recently been piqued, and I've been doing mind gymnastics ever since.

Here are my thoughts:

Extravagance is providing bread and fish for a crowd of 5,000--as much as they wanted.
Thrift is gathering up twelve baskets of leftovers afterward.

Extravagance is buying a wardrobe at Coldwater Creek.
Thrift is doing the shopping in January when the prices are reduced 70%

Extravagance is having two cars.
Thrift is driving one that is 15 years old.

Extravagance is having a whole afternoon to read.
Thrift is budgeting the time in advance.

Thrift seems to be the backdrop against which I can appreciate extravagance. How would I ever appreciate the costliness of a gift if I had never experienced the discipline of economizing? Thrift then, becomes a means by which I develop a spirit of gratefulness. It enables me to recognize and rejoice in the extravagances that God pours down upon me.

Incidentally, here's another gem: "lavish"~a synonym of extravagant~ comes from the old French word lavasse, which means "downpour."

That reminds me of the old hymn Showers of Blessing:

"There shall be showers of blessing:"
Send them upon us O Lord;
Grant to us now a refreshing,
Come, and now honor Thy Word.

Showers of blessing,
Showers of blessing we need:
Mercy-drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.

Thrift as a Strategy for Pleasure?

2009-01-19T20:59:00.007-06:00

The Graphics Fairy

"She was an old-fashioned housewife: determined and skillful and saving and sparing. She worked hard, provided much, bought little, and saved everything that might be of use, buttons and buckles and rags and string and paper sacks from the store. She mended leaky pans, patched clothes, and darned socks. She used the end of a turkey's wing as a broom to sweep around the stove."

~~Quote from Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

When I came across this paragraph in my reading, I had to chuckle. I could so perfectly picture my Grandma and her turkey wing. She was a farm wife, too, from the same era as Hannah Coulter and she deserves some respect! Since January 17-24th is National Thrift Week, and since country's economic health is seriously compromised, what better time to pull out that old-fashioned word "thrift"?

The words "thrifty" and "frugal" can both be traced to root words that suggest healthy growth. "Thrift" is related to "thrive" as in a thriving plant; and "frugal" has a Latin root that is equivalent to "fruitful". Both words have very positive connotations and yet to many (maybe most) people they conjure up mental pictures of boring old misers.

Ben Franklin, the historical character who epitomizes the idea of thrift, insisted that being thrifty was a strategy for pleasure. Yes, pleasure!

Always a public servant, Ben Franklin's economizing enabled him to be a generous giver. Giving to others is indeed one of the great secrets of happiness. It is more blessed to give than to receive.

We are centering our women's retreat around the Proverbs 31 woman this year~~ a woman who epitomizes the qualities of generosity, economy, industry, and resourcefulness. I am excited to hear from some of the older women on these issues and to glean from their life experiences.

The thrifty housewife described in my beginning quote may have fallen out of fashion, but the principles by which she lived her life are timeless. It's time to bring her back into view, emulate her, and pass her virtuous character on to a new generation.

For more on this subject, read David Blankenship's excellent article on the "American Apostle of Thrift" here.

303 Candles for Ben Franklin

2009-01-19T20:30:00.004-06:00

January 17th marked the 303rd birthday of Benjamin Franklin. In his honor, I thought I would throw in a bit of BF trivia.

I usually picture Ben as he appears on the one-hundred dollar bill (not that I see many of those!): a rather stodgy looking, older gentleman. When I read his autobiography, I was surprised to find out that he was quite athletic as a young man. He was an excellent swimmer, and was in demand as a swimming teacher during one of his stints in England.

He is also credited with creating the "swimmies" that we put on the arms of our young swimmers to keep them afloat; his were made out of wood.

Incidentally, we had a private swimming teacher that gave us a great tip as to how to wean a child off of floaties. Take a little air out of them every time you swim. The child will compensate by learning to put more personal effort into staying on top of the water. Eventually the floaties will slip right off and by that time the child will not even miss them.

Kudos to Ben Franklin, a multi-faceted and genuinely interesting personage from our nation's history.

Vintage photo compliments of The Graphics Fairy

A Mystery Menu for Sweet 16

2009-01-16T04:32:00.007-06:00

We had TWO birthdays this week~ Melody, my oldest, celebrated her "sweet 16" and Joy is 13. That means we now have three, yes three teenagers in this house.

I remember when I had three in diapers and I wondered what it would be like when we got further on down the road. Now I know! It's a whirlwind of noise and activity and it's exhausting and it's fun.

We had a "mystery menu" for Melody's party; this was something I remembered doing in my own teen years. Each dinner guest circled a certain number of menu items, which were written as a riddle. Unless they were very good at decoding, they hadn't a clue what they were ordering. They might have to eat their salad with a toothpick or their corn with a knife.

Here was our menu:

MYSTERY MENU

Instructions:

Circle 2 Blue
Circle 2 Black
Circle 1 Brown
Circle 1 Green
Circle 2 Red
Circle 1 Aqua
Circle 2 Purple

Yellow teeth (corn)

Secret Garden (garden salad)

Perfect Pitch (fork)

Babe (ham)

Dr. Doolittle (animal crackers)

Smiles Galore (cheese)

Little Dipper (spoon)

Irish eyes (baked potato)

Gasoline (coke)

Snow White (apple)

Ski Slope (ice cream)

Twiggy (toothpick)

Jungle Lice (rice)

Roman Mix-Up (Caesar salad)

A Sporty English Gal (Cornish Game Hen)

Sword in the Stone (knife)

Polly’s Delight (crackers)

Farmer’s Friend (water)

Sponge Bob (bread)

Jack (knife)

Cherry Red Mustang (Red Velvet Cake)

Skinny Leprechauns (green beans)

Florida Sunshine (orange juice)

Pucker Power (Dill pickle spear)

Mary Poppins (spoon)

The Extravagance of God

2009-01-03T21:47:00.007-06:00

ex·trava·gance (ek strav′ə gəns, ik-) noun 1 lavishness 2 costing a great deal 3 exceeding the limits of reason and necessity and unusually high in price.

What do you think of when you hear the word "extravagant"?

Do you think of God?

The human mind seems to have a "default" setting that needs to be re-calibrated frequently. "Default" setting thoughts are of this sort: God is miserly. He won't bless me because I don't deserve it. Nothing will ever change. Etc. ad nauseum.

The way to change the default setting is to renew the mind with true and lofty thoughts of God.
The Bible is the perfect rx for negative thinking (especially the Psalms) and should be taken daily.

Quotes like this one may be added PRN:

If the landscape reveals one certainty, it is that the extravagant gesture is the very stuff of creation. After the one extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping profusions on profligacies with ever-fresh vigor. The whole show has been on fire from the word go.
-Annie Dillard

No Little Plans

2009-01-03T17:33:00.004-06:00

Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood...Make big plans, aim high in hope and work.
Daniel H. Burnham
US architect & city planner (1846 - 1912)

I've been reading blogs this evening, looking at the New Year's resolutions and goals that others have set for the new year. Taken as a large dose, the good intentions that have been penned are both inspiring and a little overwhelming. Most bloggers have thoughtfully resolved to read more good books, drink more water, eat more veggies, and run more laps. Good things, all.

Been there. Done that.

This year I'm not going to write any resolutions or goals, because I always set the bar too low.

God has shown me His extravagance, and it is above and beyond what I could ask or imagine.

I save pennies for a week-end away. He gives us 2 weeks in an oceanfront home, no cost.
I try to get a few families together for homeschooling fellowship and He drops a whole co-operative school in my lap.
My goal to use a little cubby at church as a homeschool library blossoms when the librarian finds 10 one hundred dollar bills under her windshield wiper with a note saying it is to be used as seed money for a library.
The seemingly unaffordable goal that I had for my daughter's musical compositions was to have them professionally recorded. The recording has been done~~largely a gift~~ at a cost within our means.
Our goal as a church has been to obtain a radio station. After waiting many years, it appears yet again that our request was too small......the answer is larger than what we asked for.

Need I go on?

God is BIG beyond my wildest comprehension and EXTRAVAGANT in His lovingkindness to me. This year I want also to be extravagant in pouring out the ointment of my love at His feet.

Blessed New Year!

Tired of Christmas Music?

2008-12-28T12:12:00.003-06:00

The day after Christmas, my daughter Joy said, "I'm glad Christmas is over. I get tired of hearing Christmas music everywhere I go."

I agree with her to a point. What passes for Christmas music in the stores is often nerve-jangling junk. Still, it is hard for me to put away the really good Christmas music that we play at home. I usually keep playing it at least until New Year's Day.

Most years I add a new CD to our Christmas collection. This year I didn't do that, but I am just about to remedy that.

I discovered that Fernando Ortega has a new Christmas album! I am an Ortega aficionado. You can view details and listen to a few excerpts here.

An Elegant Pumpkin Soup

2008-12-27T13:59:00.004-06:00

I love this velvety soup and often serve it as a first course for a Christmas or Thanksgiving meal. This year I tweaked it a bit and added the peanut butter. I'd like to tweak it again and try curry instead of ginger, just for variety. It can be garnished with toasted pecans, croutons, or pears.

Pumpkin Soup
serves 6

INGREDIENTS

1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup water
2 teaspoons instant chicken bouillon granules
1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin
2 1/2 cups half-and-half or light cream
12 oz. cups pear nectar
2 T. peanut butter
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon white pepper

DIRECTIONS

In a large saucepan combine onion, water, and bouillon granules. Bring to boiling. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, about 10 minutes or until onion is very tender; cool slightly. Do not drain.
Transfer mixture to a blender container or food processor bowl. Add pumpkin and peanut butter, and a little of the half & half. Cover and blend or process until smooth. Return pumpkin mixture to saucepan. Stir in remaining half-and-half , pear nectar, ginger, and white pepper. Cook and stir until heated through. Do not boil.

Low Key Christmas

2008-12-26T08:00:00.003-06:00

I love Christmas festivities: concerts, special books, recipes, parties, and the like. But many years I have been guilty of cramming too much into the schedule. I wanted my kids to hear ALL of the books and learn ALL of the carols and make too many cute ornaments.

This year I streamlined and culled. No shopping trips for clothing--we wore clothes we already owned. Only one Christmas party. A few books and poems, savored more slowly. One concert, Handel's Messiah, our traditional kick-off to the season.

We had a wonderful Christmas!

Our stay-at-home day included dinner guest, singing our favorite carols, a scrumptious meal, good coffee, musical "jams" on newly-unwrapped instruments, Boggle games, and jogging camaraderie at the end of the day.

The day after Christmas can be such a letdown, but today I am feeling a lingering sweetness that is like a benediction settling my soul with contentment.

"And all the people went away to eat, to drink, to send portions and to celebrate a great festival, because they understood the words which had been made known to them."
Nehemiah 8:12

The Shepherd's Song

2008-12-24T05:48:00.003-06:00

Vintage Picture from The Graphics Fairy

The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?
My God, no hymn for Thee?
My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds
Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.
The pasture is Thy word: the streams, Thy grace
Enriching all the place.
Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers
Out-sing the daylight hours.

~~~~George Herbert, 1593-1633

Joseph's Dream

2008-12-22T16:51:00.004-06:00

Joseph's Dream
Georges Dumesnil de La Tour 1593 – 1652

"But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost." Matthew 1:20

I recently did a Biblical study on Mary, the Mother of Jesus. One thing that struck me was that Mary was a very literate young woman. This is obvious from her beautiful "Magnificat," which is a literary gem that is saturated with correlations to Old Testament scriptures.

It is refreshing to see a painting depicting Joseph as a literary man as well, a deviation from the usual rendering of him in his carpenter role. In my mind, a man who is skilled with his hands AND his intellect constitutes the highest ideal.

I still wonder, though, why is Joseph usually depicted as being bald???

Mary, Did You Know?

2008-12-21T22:25:00.006-06:00

The only thing better than listening to your favorite Christmas music is to hear it sung by one of your own. My daughter Melody sang this at our worship service today and I thought I would share it. I hope you enjoy it!

In the Bleak Midwinter

2008-12-20T05:40:00.000-06:00

Family Time

2008-12-20T04:09:00.003-06:00

My husband took a day off yesterday, so my daughter set up her new camera and shot these family pictures. It was nice to have a little time together on a snowy day. My husband and son spent a considerable amount of time chipping off the 2 inches of ice on the driveway, and then "chipped in" (literally) to help the neighbors. There were several guys outside and the camaraderie made the hard work more enjoyable.

The girls had their own camaraderie indoors by the fire. We set up the card table and played dominoes.

I like snow days!

Fun with a Flute

2008-12-11T22:05:00.004-06:00

"A flute with no holes is not a flute, and a doughnut with no hole is a Danish"

--Chevy Chase

My friend Shelene plays a flute with holes. When I told her that I once played the flute, she handed it to me and asked me to give it a try. I was terrible!! Partly because it has been nearly 30 years, and partly because I was never accustomed to the open-holed type of flute.

Last evening, she came to church with TWO flutes: her own and a hole-less one for me to play. She patiently took me through the B flat scale, refreshed my memory on a few finger positions, and then shoved some Christmas duets in front of me.

What fun! Twenty minutes of carols in two parts for the sheer joy of it.

Shelene is always drawing people in to sing with her or draw with her or talk about books..... and she is only 22! I love her.

Book Review: Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas

2008-12-03T10:37:00.003-06:00

This year I have deviated from my usual Opal Wheeler book, entitled Sing for Christmas. I've borrowed it every Advent season from the library and we know most of the stories of the Christmas carols by heart.

My new find is Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas by Ace Collins. It adds richly to our repertoire of Christmas lore by incorporating the stories of modern Christmas classics into the mix. I have found myself skipping the chapters on the carols and reading the stories of how "Mary, Did You Know?" , "Do You Hear What I Hear?", and "White Christmas" were written. The short chapters are perfect for family circle time.

The carols are heirloom treasures, but I am also unabashedly fond of some of the more recent Christmas songs as well. "Something old, something new" could apply to Christmas as well as to weddings, in my opinion!

Here's a little quiz I designed from the pages of this book:

Which Christmas song became popular after a cowboy singer introduced it at a rodeo at the Madison Square Garden?
Which song was used by the Catholic church to teach doctrine "in code" ?
Name the Christmas song that President John F. Kennedy declared to be his favorite.
The first song ever to be broadcast on radio waves was a Christmas song. What is its title?
A hyperactive young man was encouraged by his parents to develop his musical/performing skills. He eventually penned the lyrics of which modern-day classic Christmas song?
Name the song that became a holiday prayer during WWII?
A poor Appalachian waif sang a Christmas folk song that was passed down to her by previous generations. A historian was entranced by the haunting strains, and made it famous. Can you name the song?

answers: 1)Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer 2) The Twelve Days of Christmas 3) Silver Bells 4) O Holy Night 5) Mary Do You Know? 6) I'll Be Home For Christmas 7) I Wonder as I Wander

Hello! Cupcake

2008-12-03T03:53:00.003-06:00

This was my daughter's final creation for her "Hello! Cupcake" class at co-op. The class title was taken from this book. Artiste has always been enamored with nutcrackers, and draws them incessantly at Christmastime.

We had such fun at co-op this session. My children enjoyed enrichment classes in photography, beaded jewelry-making, chess, creation science, and cooking. These opportunities add another dimension to their homeschooling experience, and I am thankful.

Impromptu Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T21:16:00.007-06:00

Because my youngest daughter was sick today, we had to cancel Thanksgiving plans with our extended family and have an at-home celebration. I had not purchased the traditional turkey or ham because I was assigned to prepare the salad and dessert. So, we had a different kind of a Thanksgiving today: grilled teriyaki steaks, cherry-banana salad, scalloped corn casserole, and pumpkin/cream cheese cake roll. It came together rather nicely considering it was impromptu!

The homely pineapple "turkey" on the table is a tradition at our house. His head has been recycled for at least 20 years, but we still enjoy unpacking him each year along with the thanksgiving candy dish and the books. I'm not very good at seasonal decorating~ I guess I just don't have time to fuss. So the few decorations we bring out every year do become special to the children.

We did have one turkey leg on the table, leftover from the church dinner last night. Artiste was able to take a couple of bites of it in spite of her ill health. I thought this picture was so funny!

Have you ever tried writing Thanksgiving acronyms? We have done this together every Thanksgiving since the children were old enough to write. Just jot down a blessing for each letter in your name, and then share your list aloud in the family circle.

The Courtship of Miles Standish has become our annual family read-aloud. I think of Longfellow as the quintessential American poet. Listen to these lines:

"Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of Priscilla
Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan anthem,
Music that Luther sang to the sacred words of the Psalmist,
Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and comforting many.....

Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth,
Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music together,
Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a church-yard,
Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses.
Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old Puritan anthem,
She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest...."

It's good to have traditions, but it is also good to do something NEW. We played a new game called "Life Stories". It has been on our game shelf for a couple of years, but we have just recently pulled it out and enjoyed it. It's great for sharing memories, funny family stories, favorite vacation remembrances, etc. The kids played this game with their Grandparents last month, and it was a hit all round. My daughter wants me to buy another one so that she can have two tables going at the same time when she has her birthday party. It's not often you find a game that pleases young and old alike!

Good food, good reading, board games by the fire~~ so much to be grateful for here at the end of this Thanksgiving Day!

Book Review: The Twilight of American Culture by Morris Berman

2008-11-17T17:03:00.005-06:00

"History repeats itself" is a well-known aphorism, one which Morris Berman would agree with only in part. When history comes full circle, the rebound would more closely resemble a helix, a bit more complex than a simple replay of the past. Each time a culture rises to power, a decline is inevitable but seeds of rebirth lie within that cultural decay. Like the mythical phoenix bird, new life may emerge from the ashes.

The book The Twilight of American Culture details author Morris Berman's thoughts on the decline of America, how this decline mirrors that of great civilizations of the past, and his projections (not predictions) of what type of society might spring from the ashes of America the Beautiful.

"As the twenty-first century dawns, American culture is, quite simply, in a mess. Millions of Americans feel this, if only on a subliminal level, while a few hundred write books and articles about it, documenting the trends and analyzing causes. (snip) It doesn't take an Emerson or an Einstein to recognize that the system has lost its moorings, and, like ancient Rome, is drifting into an increasingly dysfunctional situation."

People who would choose to read a book by this title probably don't need to be convinced that our society is in a state of decay. Regardless, Berman catalogues the signs of impending culture death evidenced in the mindless media, consumptive corporate world, sick entertainment, and declining literacy. Faced with this litany of depressing facts, I felt a little overwhelmed at our downward spiral. There was a little comic relief when I read that a university graduate thinks the Gettysburg Address is "an address to Getty." But maybe I should be crying because this kind of widespread illiteracy portends a cultural collapse of huge proportions.

As might be expected, Berman reaches back into history in order to compare America's decline with that of Rome and other ruined civilizations. In reaching back, he "pulls out a plum"-- a little gem of an idea on which he chooses to base the theme of this book:

the monastic option.

"....civilizations rise and fall, and a class of 'monks' is always necessary to preserve the treasures of the dying civilization and use them, like seeds, to impregnate a new one. In the process, they create an authentic life for themselves' the personal benefits of such activity are as important as the possible historical outcome."

The lens through which I view life is Biblical, so these thoughts readily stirred to my remembrance the many times the nation of Israel was reduced to a "remnant," a small nucleus of people who were faithful to preserve scripture, tradition, and culture on behalf of future generations.

Berman does not write from a spiritual perspective, and his worldview is different from mine. Still, I find his thought intriguing. He says,

"One of my intentions in writing The Twilight of American Culture was to create a kind of guidebook for disaffected Americans who feel increasingly unable to fit into this society, and who also feel that the culture has to change if it is to survive. (snip) I have argued that we are in the grip of structural forces that are the culmination of a certain historical process, so a major change is not likely to be quick or dramatic; but individual shifts in life ways and values may just possibly act as a wedge that would serve as a counterweight to the world of schlock, ignorance, social inequality, and mass consumerism that now defines the American landscape. At the very least, these 'new monks,' or native expatriates, as one might call them, could provide a kind of record of authentic ways of living that could be preserved and handed down, to resurface later on, during healthier times."

The "new monks" that are spoken of in the above quote are, of course, not religious in any sense of the word. They are only monk-like in that they preserve and transmit culture as did the Irish monks after the fall of Rome. Berman sees them creating "zones of intelligence" in private, local ways. Notice the word private; they are not in this for recognition or to be in the limelight.

What types of activities might these new monastic individuals (NMIs) engage in ?

craftsmanship- bucking the trend of buying imported, cheap junk and opting instead to create and invest in quality.
preserving scholarly works* more on this later
exercising stewardship over the environment~ could include gardening or agrarian pursuits
rejecting consumerism- perhaps opting for a simple Christmas celebration?

Berman admits that there are no guarantees that these NMIs will succeed in their endeavors, however, that individual will reap great personal rewards in putting forth the effort to contribute to the future. He states,

"You and I can lead the 'monastic' life, and we can start to do it right now. And don't worry about being marginalized; this is good."

If Berman had stopped here, I might have closed the book encouraged, but his final chapter is entitled "Alternate Visions," in which he explores the could-be's of the future. This presented a fork in the road for me, because his plausible scenarios leave out one very important truth: there is a God who is Sovereign over the affairs of man. Knowledge of Him, and intimate knowledge of His Word enables me to face the future with hope.

I acknowledge that there may dark days ahead, but choose to believe that history is linear and will culminate in the wonderful events outlined in scripture. Monastic individuals such as Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, and John the apostle get some of the credit for preserving those wonderful words of life.

As I grow older, I become more and more cognizant of the fact that my life has a very small sphere of influence. But it is a sphere and I do wield influence, and that should not be negated.

*My husband and I started collecting old books early in our marriage. At first it was just a hobby, but as time goes by we have both begun to feel that this little treasure cache is not just for us. There will be, perhaps, someone who will value them long after we are gone.

I get goosebumps when I open a well-preserved, old volume and read the inscription written on the flyleaf in loopy, intricate handwriting:

"To my Colorado Sweetheart. Christmas 1920"

Whose hands lovingly held this same volume? What did it mean to them? Will someone yet unborn hold it at some future date and count it as precious as we have?

Some of the antique books that we have collected have brought to light a practice that I find distasteful. Modern publishers will sometimes reprint a vintage gem, but will leave out whole chapters. I presume this is because they want to eliminate controversial subject matter in favor of securing more sales. My "monastic" instinct tells me this is wrong. I want to see the author as he really is, not how someone else dresses him up (or down) to be.

Berman makes note of the fact that individuality is under fire in a declining culture. The chapters that are expurgated from books are usually the very ones that define the individual and set him apart from the pack. Society loses its vitality when individuality is quenched.

I think we all have an inborn need to feel that our life pursuits connect us to something much bigger than ourselves. We all need to feel there is a place in history for "little me." I'm thankful that my Christian faith allows for that individuality, while at the same time connecting me to a great cloud of witnesses who have shared the passion for truth that will set apart a certain percentage of people of EVERY generation.

"LORD, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.
Before the mountains were born,
Or Thou didst give birth to the earth and the world,
Even from everlasting to everlasting,
Thou art God." Psalm 90:1-2

WHO WRITES THIS STUFF??

2008-11-06T14:44:00.002-06:00

Every time I step into the shower, this outrageous claim on the shampoo bottle stares me in the face:

"The sweet and zesty fragrance of grapefruit and orange will reconnect the mind and spirit and fortify your hair with each use."

I wonder, when did my mind get disconnected from my spirit?

How can citrus fragrance put me back together again?

Most of all, I wonder WHO WRITES THESE THINGS???