I just thought it might be helpful to provide a few hints so that you can tell whether or not your 10-year-old boy has discovered that girls don't have Cooties. Now, you may think that it isn't an actual issue, but "Cooties" is an actual medical condition that I think must have been eradicated, perhaps in view of all the inoculations that have become so prevalent. I know that it is an actual condition because it used to be that the Mayo Clinic actually had a web page devoted to it. (They don't any more. That's why I think the disease must have been eradicated.)
My 10-year-old son has joined the realm of those who have gotten past the concern for getting Cooties. This is how I can tell:
1. He used to have to be reminded to take showers. I remember asking him once, "How long has it been since you took a shower?" thinking that it might have been he hadn't taken one that day. I should have known from the interesting fumes emanating from him. He said, nonchalantly, "Three days." "Aaagggh!" I shrieked. "Go take one now!" These days he takes one every morning before coming downstairs.
2. He changes his socks more often. I don't see any walking around by themselves any more. (For that matter, he's more willing to wear them in the first place, since not doing so has bad effect on his shoes.) We've recently discussed (again) what clothes he needs to change every day and what can wait. And he was receptive to the news. We're making progress!
3. He looks in the mirror, and sometimes he isn't making faces or seeing how many weird noises he can make with his mouth and what shapes his mouth takes on in the process; he's trying the handsome, cool, with-it kind of expressions instead. Silently.
4. He is specific about what kind of soap, shampoo, and hair stuff he wants. It's always something with a strong, manly scent. Well, better strong manly on a 10-year-old than strong...well, you know.
5. He makes cards even for little girls who come over to visit. At least, he did the other day. For three sisters, so I guess it wasn't to impress one in particular, unless he is trying to throw me off the case a little bit.
6. He welcomes the idea of being in certain places where it's a new thing for for him to want to be. Places where certain little girls are present.
7. At church he asks to use the breath freshening spray before meet-and-greet time.
8. His teeth don't have sweaters on any more. They tend to be shinier and whiter, and his dentist doesn't scold him so heartily as he used to. Okay, occasionally he forgets to brush, but far less than he used to.
9. He cares more about wearing impressive types of clothes that have some structure and lack ragged edges, rather than the ratty comfortable ones. At least, usually. Well, at least when he predicts the possibility of seeing girls.
10. When he goes to friends' houses who have sisters, all the above benefits go into full implementation, whereas this used to be the least likely incentive for soap and sudsiness.
Sigh. I don't know if this is a good trend, since in some ways, he's safer not liking girls until he's of marriageable age, but it does keep him cleaner and tamer for the present in peaceful and pleasant ways. My mom used to say that "it's an ill wind that brings no one any good," meaning even bad things have benefit for someone, somewhere. And the wind is sweeter, these days. I like this change, myself, even if we do have far more discussion, prayer and teaching before we are through with these subjects of girls, personal hygiene, and appearance.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
How to tell if You Have a Red Robin Server Living at Your House
I thought it might be helpful to present a few ways to identify whether or not you have a Red Robin server living at your house. We have concluded that we do. Here's how you can tell:
1. The laundry smells like hamburger grease and is fraught with long black apron strings and an occasional glimpse of a Red Robin logo.
2. The server has no desire to go anywhere noisy after work, but needs a couple of hours to mellow out before she goes to bed.
3. The entry way is covered with greasy shoe prints.
4. The server talks in her sleep, "You want another order of fries?" or "Can I bring you a refill of freckled lemonade?" or singing, "I don't know, but I've been told, someone here is gettin' old..."
5. You get panicked phone calls, asking whether the server is there, because they need her stat to fill in for someone.
6. When she gets off work and goes to the grocery store on the way home, she greets other customers with an over-enthusiastic "Hi, I'll be your server, my name is..." and trails off when she realizes the truth of where she is.
7. When the family sits down at the table, the server forgets to sit down, stands hovering nearby, and tries to dip into pockets of her short black apron, though she's not wearing one.
8. You find occasional Red Robin coasters on the kitchen counter.
9. There's a lack of pens and note pads in the house.
10. There's no demand for hamburgers, french fries, or onion rings at dinner; the farther from ground beef, the better.
11. When someone sings the actual "Happy Birthday" song at home, rather than the Red Robin variations, a confused look comes over the server's face.
If you see these symptoms around your house, consider the possibility that you indeed have a Red Robin server in your midst. Don't worry about it, there are benefits: Their pay is good; they learn to multitask; and they know how to serve others, and how to celebrate. And they have the Red Robin menu memorized.
1. The laundry smells like hamburger grease and is fraught with long black apron strings and an occasional glimpse of a Red Robin logo.
2. The server has no desire to go anywhere noisy after work, but needs a couple of hours to mellow out before she goes to bed.
3. The entry way is covered with greasy shoe prints.
4. The server talks in her sleep, "You want another order of fries?" or "Can I bring you a refill of freckled lemonade?" or singing, "I don't know, but I've been told, someone here is gettin' old..."
5. You get panicked phone calls, asking whether the server is there, because they need her stat to fill in for someone.
6. When she gets off work and goes to the grocery store on the way home, she greets other customers with an over-enthusiastic "Hi, I'll be your server, my name is..." and trails off when she realizes the truth of where she is.
7. When the family sits down at the table, the server forgets to sit down, stands hovering nearby, and tries to dip into pockets of her short black apron, though she's not wearing one.
8. You find occasional Red Robin coasters on the kitchen counter.
9. There's a lack of pens and note pads in the house.
10. There's no demand for hamburgers, french fries, or onion rings at dinner; the farther from ground beef, the better.
11. When someone sings the actual "Happy Birthday" song at home, rather than the Red Robin variations, a confused look comes over the server's face.
If you see these symptoms around your house, consider the possibility that you indeed have a Red Robin server in your midst. Don't worry about it, there are benefits: Their pay is good; they learn to multitask; and they know how to serve others, and how to celebrate. And they have the Red Robin menu memorized.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Does Feasting on God's Word Really Make an Impact?
We read one Psalm per day, Tim and I; we started a few months ago, I think. Well, it's our first time through Psalms together, and not Tim's favorite part of our Bible reading. So we discussed how Scripture is something like eating meals, that the next day you might not remember what you had, but your body knows whether or not you had it. If you went a week without meals, your body would be starving for it. When we read the Scriptures, the impact they make in our spirits might or might not be noticeable to us right away, but eventually it would be evident in our lives.
So I asked Tim to remind me which Psalm we were reading, and he said, "Psalm 98." And that's where I started reading to him, "O sing to the LORD a new song," I read. And Tim interrupted me, looking confused, "No, we already..." and then he stopped with a questioning look. I saw what confused him right away. "No, Tim, Psalm 96 starts out almost the same, 'Sing to the LORD a new song.'" His face cleared up, and he saw the significance of what had just happened. The Psalms had made an impact already, without him realizing it. We had read Psalm 96 two days previously, and he still readily remembered the first line. The first line of our reading yesterday brought it to the forefront immediately even though he isn't too fond of the Psalms. Is God not faithful? Is His Scripture not powerful!
Isaiah 55:10-11 "For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there without watering the earth and making it bear and sprout, and furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; it will not return to Me empty, without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it."
New American Standard Bible (NASB) Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation
So I asked Tim to remind me which Psalm we were reading, and he said, "Psalm 98." And that's where I started reading to him, "O sing to the LORD a new song," I read. And Tim interrupted me, looking confused, "No, we already..." and then he stopped with a questioning look. I saw what confused him right away. "No, Tim, Psalm 96 starts out almost the same, 'Sing to the LORD a new song.'" His face cleared up, and he saw the significance of what had just happened. The Psalms had made an impact already, without him realizing it. We had read Psalm 96 two days previously, and he still readily remembered the first line. The first line of our reading yesterday brought it to the forefront immediately even though he isn't too fond of the Psalms. Is God not faithful? Is His Scripture not powerful!
Isaiah 55:10-11 "For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there without watering the earth and making it bear and sprout, and furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; it will not return to Me empty, without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it."
New American Standard Bible (NASB) Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation
Monday, December 01, 2008
Well, Mom...
This afternoon a huge nasty big black fly has been flying around energetically, never landing so I can cream him out of existence...I have to wait until he tires himself out. And he's so chubby it will either work against him, or supply the fuel he needs to outlast me.
So I was showing Tim as the big black dot whipped its way through the kitchen. I said, "It's weird. If you get houseflies this time of year, they generally are small, and slow. But not this one, it's big and energetic. And it isn't like we've been going in and out, opening doors to let flies in. I don't know where he came from."
Tim gave me a look with a twinkle in his eye, and said, "Well, Mom, when two flies love each other a lot..." Thankfully he didn't go on.
Aaagh. For more hatred and marital discord between flies...
So I was showing Tim as the big black dot whipped its way through the kitchen. I said, "It's weird. If you get houseflies this time of year, they generally are small, and slow. But not this one, it's big and energetic. And it isn't like we've been going in and out, opening doors to let flies in. I don't know where he came from."
Tim gave me a look with a twinkle in his eye, and said, "Well, Mom, when two flies love each other a lot..." Thankfully he didn't go on.
Aaagh. For more hatred and marital discord between flies...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Faith is Foundational to Family!
Today Pastor Ken preached about Ephesians 6, regarding the armor of God. In the context, he showed, it reflects Paul's concern for protection of the Church. He at one point said that the Church was Paul's primary concern, in contrast with how some people think it would be family, or individuals. We are to bear the armor of God as part of the protection of the Church, though it doesn't mean the other would not be true and commendable as well. I would say protection of the Church results in protection of the family.
I can testify to that! Our family would not exist were it not for the faith; I wonder at so many families that function, however dysfunctionally, without Christ, and how much better and safer their lives would be with faith at the center, with a solid church as their primary support.
I remember working at Boeing and hearing the verse, "The prayer of a righteous man availeth much" (James 5:16). I remember walking quite a ways from my work area, to a man I hardly knew--but I knew he was a Christian. I asked him to pray for our family, and I recited the verse to him. I then went back to my seat. That was shortly before I was a believer. Shortly after that, I came to faith.
Shortly after that, thanks to the recommendation of the woman in charge of our women's retreat with our church (which was the first church we attended, but I only came to Christ shortly before we changed churches, and my husband was not a believer there), I prayed that God would take the burden I was dealing with, trouble with my mother-in-law, and help me, because I could not understand what was going on.
The next day, in discussion with my in-laws, who (unbeknownst to me) my husband had invited over, we reached an impasse at all efforts to come to some agreement to work things out. I remember thinking that the only solutions in my hand were divorce or suicide. (I was only a brand-new Christian at this point.) Within minutes of that, I found out that my mother-in-law had been diagnosed two years previously with Alzheimers. I was the first in the family that my secretive father-in-law told, because it had affected our family in the worst way. Knowing that enabled me to understand so much, and excuse my mother-in-law for the hostility that I could attribute to her disease--I could forgive her, even though it still took a long time to fully do so. So faith saved our marriage and family at that point. Praise God!
A few years later I was pregnant and had gone in for an ultrasound, and left on a trip. While we were in Portland, I called the doctor who had been frantically trying to get a hold of me. She told me there over the phone that she thought I had an "ectopic" pregnancy and that I should terminate it, or could bleed to death--this, even though I thought I'd found a pro-life doctor. I wasn't about to. Any time I thought of doing so, I was disturbed. Whenever I thought there was no way I could do that, I had complete peace. I read through Psalm 139 many times in those days. Two weeks later another ultrasound revealed that it wasn't ectopic after all. It was a very tough pregnancy over all, and we weren't sure he would make it to birth, but our church was praying for our baby. Our ten-year-old son Tim is a testimony that faith is primary to family. Faith in Christ certainly was crucial in bringing him into our family unscathed.
As we drove home we discussed these things. Tim didn't realize that our marriage had been saved because of our faith; then he was reminded of his beginnings, and he thanked me for sparing his life--though it wasn't me, it was only by God's grace that his life was spared. Who knows how many of our family's stories of God's provision and protection he has not heard, or was too young to remember? I'm going to have to go over them with him again, and make sure he knows how our family can personally testify in so many ways to God's infinite goodness!
The Church is our family, in the most eternal sense and in many temporal ways as well. The Church is crucial to family and individual health. If the Church had not been protected over the last 2,000 years, but had succumbed to Satan's schemes, I would have made some horrible decisions. Our family would not be a unit any more; I might not be here; Tim would certainly not be here. Bearing the armor of God is for protection of the Church. Protection of the Church is family protection; it is self-protection. It is God's will, above all that, and in part, we might assume, because of all that.
I can testify to that! Our family would not exist were it not for the faith; I wonder at so many families that function, however dysfunctionally, without Christ, and how much better and safer their lives would be with faith at the center, with a solid church as their primary support.
I remember working at Boeing and hearing the verse, "The prayer of a righteous man availeth much" (James 5:16). I remember walking quite a ways from my work area, to a man I hardly knew--but I knew he was a Christian. I asked him to pray for our family, and I recited the verse to him. I then went back to my seat. That was shortly before I was a believer. Shortly after that, I came to faith.
Shortly after that, thanks to the recommendation of the woman in charge of our women's retreat with our church (which was the first church we attended, but I only came to Christ shortly before we changed churches, and my husband was not a believer there), I prayed that God would take the burden I was dealing with, trouble with my mother-in-law, and help me, because I could not understand what was going on.
The next day, in discussion with my in-laws, who (unbeknownst to me) my husband had invited over, we reached an impasse at all efforts to come to some agreement to work things out. I remember thinking that the only solutions in my hand were divorce or suicide. (I was only a brand-new Christian at this point.) Within minutes of that, I found out that my mother-in-law had been diagnosed two years previously with Alzheimers. I was the first in the family that my secretive father-in-law told, because it had affected our family in the worst way. Knowing that enabled me to understand so much, and excuse my mother-in-law for the hostility that I could attribute to her disease--I could forgive her, even though it still took a long time to fully do so. So faith saved our marriage and family at that point. Praise God!
A few years later I was pregnant and had gone in for an ultrasound, and left on a trip. While we were in Portland, I called the doctor who had been frantically trying to get a hold of me. She told me there over the phone that she thought I had an "ectopic" pregnancy and that I should terminate it, or could bleed to death--this, even though I thought I'd found a pro-life doctor. I wasn't about to. Any time I thought of doing so, I was disturbed. Whenever I thought there was no way I could do that, I had complete peace. I read through Psalm 139 many times in those days. Two weeks later another ultrasound revealed that it wasn't ectopic after all. It was a very tough pregnancy over all, and we weren't sure he would make it to birth, but our church was praying for our baby. Our ten-year-old son Tim is a testimony that faith is primary to family. Faith in Christ certainly was crucial in bringing him into our family unscathed.
As we drove home we discussed these things. Tim didn't realize that our marriage had been saved because of our faith; then he was reminded of his beginnings, and he thanked me for sparing his life--though it wasn't me, it was only by God's grace that his life was spared. Who knows how many of our family's stories of God's provision and protection he has not heard, or was too young to remember? I'm going to have to go over them with him again, and make sure he knows how our family can personally testify in so many ways to God's infinite goodness!
The Church is our family, in the most eternal sense and in many temporal ways as well. The Church is crucial to family and individual health. If the Church had not been protected over the last 2,000 years, but had succumbed to Satan's schemes, I would have made some horrible decisions. Our family would not be a unit any more; I might not be here; Tim would certainly not be here. Bearing the armor of God is for protection of the Church. Protection of the Church is family protection; it is self-protection. It is God's will, above all that, and in part, we might assume, because of all that.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A Funny Recollection
Since I can't think of anything current to blog about...I don't know why, suddenly I'm just coming up dry...I want to tell a funny recollection from back when I guess I could say things were for the moment more interesting.
Last August (nearly a year back) when we were dropping Katie off at her college in California, we met up with another family we know from our previous church, and had dinner with them at the Keg and Platter there. (Now, that previous church was then already our previous church as of May or June of that year.) We talked about a great many things, and were having a great time. But we as a family were not sure whether they as a family knew that we had left their church. It isn't an enormous church, just a few hundred there, but there are two services, and besides, this family had close family friends who were all excited about their daughter's engagement and I think it had them all distracted. We didn't know of any tactful way to broach the subject, and so we just didn't bring it up. What do you do, change the subject from all the various distractions at the college and say, "By the way, did you know that we left the church many months ago?" We didn't want them choking on their steak, after all. It really was fairly amusing, considering that we tend to be at church every Sunday--more faithfully than most of the pastors we've ever known--because we hardly travel, at all. Yes, now you wonder why I have so little to blog about? Yes. That may be it.
And there was another funny thing. Somehow Tim talked us into allowing him to order a mocha-flavored dessert. Let me note to you now, sugar and caffeine in a 9-year-old boy is not a good idea. I know that now. He ate the dessert without much attention and fanfare, but that was not the end of it. Something got him giggling, and he laughed, and laughed, and wasn't stopping. Now don't dismiss that, it wasn't that he didn't want to stop. We kept dropping our conversation, remarking on Tim's giggling, starting up again, and then stopping again. Finally we realized he was doing something akin to hyperventilating, and he just couldn't stop. He was in pain. We didn't have a paper bag for him to breathe into, so we gave him a paper napkin to put over his face, holding it there and breathing through it. It worked. He stopped his giggling and for the rest of the night, he was sufficiently sober and sane. I don't think he slept well that night, though.
Well, months later...Katie was talking down at college to a group of students there, and the subject of our church change came up. For the moment she forgot that one of the students was a member of that family, and would definitely find it significant. So word got back to his family, and there it was, at least September or October, and finally this unintentional secret was out. Ha! Yes, I thought it was pretty amusing, at least once I concluded that they really hadn't known all that time.
The mother came to me later and told me that she had taken it personally that I hadn't told her. I told her how we were stymied as to how to bring it up, and she understood. I told her that if I'd known, I would have gone to her first thing and told her, and she would have gone, "Why are you telling me about it?" And she agreed that that, too, would have been the case. Sometimes you just can't satisfy a person, no matter how you do it.
Last August (nearly a year back) when we were dropping Katie off at her college in California, we met up with another family we know from our previous church, and had dinner with them at the Keg and Platter there. (Now, that previous church was then already our previous church as of May or June of that year.) We talked about a great many things, and were having a great time. But we as a family were not sure whether they as a family knew that we had left their church. It isn't an enormous church, just a few hundred there, but there are two services, and besides, this family had close family friends who were all excited about their daughter's engagement and I think it had them all distracted. We didn't know of any tactful way to broach the subject, and so we just didn't bring it up. What do you do, change the subject from all the various distractions at the college and say, "By the way, did you know that we left the church many months ago?" We didn't want them choking on their steak, after all. It really was fairly amusing, considering that we tend to be at church every Sunday--more faithfully than most of the pastors we've ever known--because we hardly travel, at all. Yes, now you wonder why I have so little to blog about? Yes. That may be it.
And there was another funny thing. Somehow Tim talked us into allowing him to order a mocha-flavored dessert. Let me note to you now, sugar and caffeine in a 9-year-old boy is not a good idea. I know that now. He ate the dessert without much attention and fanfare, but that was not the end of it. Something got him giggling, and he laughed, and laughed, and wasn't stopping. Now don't dismiss that, it wasn't that he didn't want to stop. We kept dropping our conversation, remarking on Tim's giggling, starting up again, and then stopping again. Finally we realized he was doing something akin to hyperventilating, and he just couldn't stop. He was in pain. We didn't have a paper bag for him to breathe into, so we gave him a paper napkin to put over his face, holding it there and breathing through it. It worked. He stopped his giggling and for the rest of the night, he was sufficiently sober and sane. I don't think he slept well that night, though.
Well, months later...Katie was talking down at college to a group of students there, and the subject of our church change came up. For the moment she forgot that one of the students was a member of that family, and would definitely find it significant. So word got back to his family, and there it was, at least September or October, and finally this unintentional secret was out. Ha! Yes, I thought it was pretty amusing, at least once I concluded that they really hadn't known all that time.
The mother came to me later and told me that she had taken it personally that I hadn't told her. I told her how we were stymied as to how to bring it up, and she understood. I told her that if I'd known, I would have gone to her first thing and told her, and she would have gone, "Why are you telling me about it?" And she agreed that that, too, would have been the case. Sometimes you just can't satisfy a person, no matter how you do it.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friendship, Fellowship and Gladness
For the last couple of months, our Pastor Ken and his wife Kit have been on an overdue, much-deserved and needed Sabbatical. They did not go far, only to Alki. It was just a time to get away and reflect and redirect their ministry back into line with what God's priorities are for them. I hope it is very restorative and refreshing.
One of the things that Kit mentioned that she would find encouraging was the hope that someone would draw their son Jay into mealtimes during their absence. This seemed just in line with the very things that we would want to do. Jay is a far quieter sort than we are. When a person is quiet, I tend to be mystified by them, intrigued to know what they are quietly thinking. I respect the person of fewer words; I can't imitate their quiet nature at length, because I become downcast if I am quiet too long. The Bible has great things to say about the quiet person, and not so great about the person of many words. I guess this should incline the talkative person to be careful in their choice of words, and as time goes on, I am improving in this, but I have a long way to go.
Anyway, Jay has been coming over here most Sundays. A couple of times we have had another person too, but most of the time it has just been him. It has been great to get to know him, to see him become more relaxed around us. I think he has become a bit readier to speak around us, to know what to say. We have all come to really enjoy his visits more every time.
Jay never declines to play games when he comes to visit. (For some reason this has surprised me; I'm not one to think of playing games, but we've done it more consistently when he's here than any time previous.) We've played Mexican train dominoes, Scattergories, Nerts and Dutch Blitz. Maybe some other games too, but I don't remember. It seems that games bring out the competitor in me, to my shame. I get pretty intense during the games; Katie does, too, making all sorts of snide sideways comments in my direction (I never make any in hers, do I?) and making all sorts of funny noises as she looks for an available outlet toward a winning hand. Jay quietly works at his game and just observes us with patient interest as we compete and ever more patience as we laugh hysterically, uncontrollably, if we win. (He says his father suffers that same tendency. Our pastor? Shocking!)
And we learn wonderful little things about the history of the church we're attending, about their family, about life in Granite Falls. Jay learns funny little things about our family, like how Tim looks like a little bear in his fleece pajamas, and how readily our meats go up in flames on the barbecue or our rice goes up in smoke on the stove, or our defenses flare during game time, or my Erma Bombeck style of housekeeping. We learn how patient he is with all our faults, how easygoing and kind; he learns how passionate we are about every little thing.
Though it appears we are opposites, I think we are getting along well together. I hope this pattern of visits will become a regular aspect of our lives, that there is no reason for it to stop just because his family will be back together. Pretty neat how a quiet single guy and a crazy family can come together in friendship and faith and fun, and it all works out for good. God has blessed this time of fellowship! And we are glad.
One of the things that Kit mentioned that she would find encouraging was the hope that someone would draw their son Jay into mealtimes during their absence. This seemed just in line with the very things that we would want to do. Jay is a far quieter sort than we are. When a person is quiet, I tend to be mystified by them, intrigued to know what they are quietly thinking. I respect the person of fewer words; I can't imitate their quiet nature at length, because I become downcast if I am quiet too long. The Bible has great things to say about the quiet person, and not so great about the person of many words. I guess this should incline the talkative person to be careful in their choice of words, and as time goes on, I am improving in this, but I have a long way to go.
Anyway, Jay has been coming over here most Sundays. A couple of times we have had another person too, but most of the time it has just been him. It has been great to get to know him, to see him become more relaxed around us. I think he has become a bit readier to speak around us, to know what to say. We have all come to really enjoy his visits more every time.
Jay never declines to play games when he comes to visit. (For some reason this has surprised me; I'm not one to think of playing games, but we've done it more consistently when he's here than any time previous.) We've played Mexican train dominoes, Scattergories, Nerts and Dutch Blitz. Maybe some other games too, but I don't remember. It seems that games bring out the competitor in me, to my shame. I get pretty intense during the games; Katie does, too, making all sorts of snide sideways comments in my direction (I never make any in hers, do I?) and making all sorts of funny noises as she looks for an available outlet toward a winning hand. Jay quietly works at his game and just observes us with patient interest as we compete and ever more patience as we laugh hysterically, uncontrollably, if we win. (He says his father suffers that same tendency. Our pastor? Shocking!)
And we learn wonderful little things about the history of the church we're attending, about their family, about life in Granite Falls. Jay learns funny little things about our family, like how Tim looks like a little bear in his fleece pajamas, and how readily our meats go up in flames on the barbecue or our rice goes up in smoke on the stove, or our defenses flare during game time, or my Erma Bombeck style of housekeeping. We learn how patient he is with all our faults, how easygoing and kind; he learns how passionate we are about every little thing.
Though it appears we are opposites, I think we are getting along well together. I hope this pattern of visits will become a regular aspect of our lives, that there is no reason for it to stop just because his family will be back together. Pretty neat how a quiet single guy and a crazy family can come together in friendship and faith and fun, and it all works out for good. God has blessed this time of fellowship! And we are glad.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
25 Years is a Long Stretch! So...What Has Changed?
Twenty-five years have passed since Gary and I got married on June 18, 1983. Things have changed...differently than the casual observer might think. I'm a bit (never mind how much a bit is) heavier...my hands and face are more wrinkled and I have some gray hair...our wedding presents are now antiques. (That's scary!) There are two more people in the house. Where did they come from? Oh, yes, I remember now. They grew on us! Ha! And my ankle hurts, and it didn't do that back a bunch of years.
Other than that, what's the difference? Oh, yes, new life! I'm alive! I was dead then and didn't know it. I remember that feeling of inadequacy, that huge hole in my middle. I remember that so well, and never thought it would subside. For a while it got worse! And now it's gone.
I know how to fix up things around the house. And I don't think I'd be as afraid to try a new job if I had one; I don't worry about what people think of me; I don't feel alone; my life is no longer meaningless; now, though, work is not my life; my life revolves around important things, things that matter eternally, like family life, and faith.
Still, aside from all that? I still feel like that 23-year-old, basically. There are a lot of things, I think, that haven't changed. Well, maybe. Well, maybe not. It's better! It's really good. Life is really good. God is really great! Other than aches and weight, I'm not just like when I was 23, I'm happier, more confident, more joyful, at peace, and I didn't even have a clue what joy and peace were back then.
How has Gary changed? In many ways, he too is still the same person he was; yet, he's changed of course too. Well, he has a work history in sales,and he will tell you all about it if you ask! He loves his work. He's a dad who takes pride in his kids. He values family life big-time. The church where his dad pastored back then, he called a "social club." And he didn't attend church back then. I don't think he'd call the one we attend now anything like just a social club!
Back then we lived in Portland, and hadn't really become part of a community. Now, having lived in the Puget Sound area most of these years, we have a huge community of friends, of sisters and brothers in Christ, who we love and cherish. I can't imagine having been without them all these years--and with every year it's only gotten better!
We've gone through some tough times, but God has brought us through them, and through those times, we have learned things about God and ourselves, and about what other people go through, that we never would have learned otherwise. God is truly great. What more can I say? I can only praise God for His goodness in our lives, for what He has done, for all that He has done to help us through these 25 years!
Other than that, what's the difference? Oh, yes, new life! I'm alive! I was dead then and didn't know it. I remember that feeling of inadequacy, that huge hole in my middle. I remember that so well, and never thought it would subside. For a while it got worse! And now it's gone.
I know how to fix up things around the house. And I don't think I'd be as afraid to try a new job if I had one; I don't worry about what people think of me; I don't feel alone; my life is no longer meaningless; now, though, work is not my life; my life revolves around important things, things that matter eternally, like family life, and faith.
Still, aside from all that? I still feel like that 23-year-old, basically. There are a lot of things, I think, that haven't changed. Well, maybe. Well, maybe not. It's better! It's really good. Life is really good. God is really great! Other than aches and weight, I'm not just like when I was 23, I'm happier, more confident, more joyful, at peace, and I didn't even have a clue what joy and peace were back then.
How has Gary changed? In many ways, he too is still the same person he was; yet, he's changed of course too. Well, he has a work history in sales,and he will tell you all about it if you ask! He loves his work. He's a dad who takes pride in his kids. He values family life big-time. The church where his dad pastored back then, he called a "social club." And he didn't attend church back then. I don't think he'd call the one we attend now anything like just a social club!
Back then we lived in Portland, and hadn't really become part of a community. Now, having lived in the Puget Sound area most of these years, we have a huge community of friends, of sisters and brothers in Christ, who we love and cherish. I can't imagine having been without them all these years--and with every year it's only gotten better!
We've gone through some tough times, but God has brought us through them, and through those times, we have learned things about God and ourselves, and about what other people go through, that we never would have learned otherwise. God is truly great. What more can I say? I can only praise God for His goodness in our lives, for what He has done, for all that He has done to help us through these 25 years!
Monday, June 09, 2008
She's Back Home; Now What?
Katie came home from college and got rested up for the first couple of weeks, applying for jobs and doing various little things adjusting back to life in Washington. Then she went down to California for a wedding, and I think she got a little shot of the peer-life that she's been enjoying in the college realm. On the way home from the airport, she started saying how quickly she connected not only at the wedding, but that Sunday with the congregation at the church down there (even her friend remarked on how quickly she connected with people there); and she described how lonely she is up here. Aaagh.
I understand how great it must be to be a young woman in a college environment; all the more for a girl who was homeschooled and dealt with some degree of loneliness or isolation much of the time growing up. A Christian college dorm can't help being an "in the salt-shaker" kind of habitat. She's made lots of Christian friends, all varying levels and varieties of wonderful. I know to an extent what that is like when I go to church, experiencing it maybe for a few hours, or maybe off at a women's retreat, but to live in it, I have just never experienced it--never knew to miss it! Never stayed in a dorm; the only time I shared an apartment with a girl friend, neither of us were Christians, and actually it didn't work out that well. Still, when I come home from a women's retreat, I'm actually relieved to get back to life as usual, back to the regular routine; the ongoing excitement of dorm life would probably kill me!
We changed churches a few months before Katie left for college, and between that change and then changing to a church near her college, then back again to our new church, it's short-circuited her connecting with either congregation all that well. That disconnect creates all the more adjustment back to everyday home life. We're just the same 3 other family members every morning, and no doubt we are so much different in our level of energy or affirmation or activity than what she's used to at college.
So I see what used to be our adult-oriented daughter becoming so much more peer-oriented. I would have balked at that during the years that we were homeschooling, for family strength and character-building reasons. Now, though, it's not entirely unhealthy. It's time for her to stretch her wings and start flying into her own world a bit, from the safety of her home environment. The peer influence in elementary to high-school years has a way of causing more of an emotional separation from parents that is premature, undermining authority and bringing the children to strive for an independence for which they aren't prepared, but she's 20 now, and those priorities have changed in importance, and will all the more as she ventures further into adulthood.
Still, the fact that she so struggles when she leaves the peer life and comes home to us is disheartening a bit, when we're not used to feeling so inadequate for her perceived needs. She's hooked on a level of social interaction that there's no way that we can provide or imitate; it's a sensory deprivation that is a relief during the short visits on holidays; but for the summer months, that relief turns into feelings of boredom and isolation. I know when she gets a job, that will help, but in the meantime, it's a struggle.
Knowing what she's experiencing now, would I regret her having gone and returning with this disenchantment? Never. I don't exactly know what to do with her now that she's home, but I'm glad she's gained the friends she has, the new perspective, the confidence, the input of someone other than her old mother...even if her impression of home life has become a bit faded and dull. When she needs the safety and support, we're here; when she doesn't so much, she's free to explore the many great possibilities that will be opening up to her. Maybe if being at home doesn't fully suit her, she'll be working harder to achieve her independence, and maybe that will be a healthy thing.
I understand how great it must be to be a young woman in a college environment; all the more for a girl who was homeschooled and dealt with some degree of loneliness or isolation much of the time growing up. A Christian college dorm can't help being an "in the salt-shaker" kind of habitat. She's made lots of Christian friends, all varying levels and varieties of wonderful. I know to an extent what that is like when I go to church, experiencing it maybe for a few hours, or maybe off at a women's retreat, but to live in it, I have just never experienced it--never knew to miss it! Never stayed in a dorm; the only time I shared an apartment with a girl friend, neither of us were Christians, and actually it didn't work out that well. Still, when I come home from a women's retreat, I'm actually relieved to get back to life as usual, back to the regular routine; the ongoing excitement of dorm life would probably kill me!
We changed churches a few months before Katie left for college, and between that change and then changing to a church near her college, then back again to our new church, it's short-circuited her connecting with either congregation all that well. That disconnect creates all the more adjustment back to everyday home life. We're just the same 3 other family members every morning, and no doubt we are so much different in our level of energy or affirmation or activity than what she's used to at college.
So I see what used to be our adult-oriented daughter becoming so much more peer-oriented. I would have balked at that during the years that we were homeschooling, for family strength and character-building reasons. Now, though, it's not entirely unhealthy. It's time for her to stretch her wings and start flying into her own world a bit, from the safety of her home environment. The peer influence in elementary to high-school years has a way of causing more of an emotional separation from parents that is premature, undermining authority and bringing the children to strive for an independence for which they aren't prepared, but she's 20 now, and those priorities have changed in importance, and will all the more as she ventures further into adulthood.
Still, the fact that she so struggles when she leaves the peer life and comes home to us is disheartening a bit, when we're not used to feeling so inadequate for her perceived needs. She's hooked on a level of social interaction that there's no way that we can provide or imitate; it's a sensory deprivation that is a relief during the short visits on holidays; but for the summer months, that relief turns into feelings of boredom and isolation. I know when she gets a job, that will help, but in the meantime, it's a struggle.
Knowing what she's experiencing now, would I regret her having gone and returning with this disenchantment? Never. I don't exactly know what to do with her now that she's home, but I'm glad she's gained the friends she has, the new perspective, the confidence, the input of someone other than her old mother...even if her impression of home life has become a bit faded and dull. When she needs the safety and support, we're here; when she doesn't so much, she's free to explore the many great possibilities that will be opening up to her. Maybe if being at home doesn't fully suit her, she'll be working harder to achieve her independence, and maybe that will be a healthy thing.
Friday, April 04, 2008
God Provides Infectious Encouragement
Gary has been telling people all week that he's going down to see Katie--officially for a job interview, and that may be a huge blessing in and of itself, if it turns out to be the job for him, but visiting Katie is definitely the highlight. Imagine, of all the cities in the United States, of all the airports serving those cities, the one that he's called to fly into for a job interview is the same one that Katie flies in and out of to school--Burbank, California. Because of that, he arranged it so that he can stay overnight; the company who called him down is also paying for a rental car for the duration of his visit. Is God not good? We know it! Gary was so excited in anticipation, that in true Gary style, he told the checker at Costco all about it as she rang up our purchase last night. When I told Katie that, she was all the more delighted--at his delight.
Tonight Gary called our home phone. He was giving me a rundown of how the day went with Katie. He had already told me some about the interview (which so far left him undecided if they should offer him the job), but this time he was just bubbling over with the day's events afterward. While he was talking, Katie called my cell phone. He told me to call him back later, and when I answered Katie, she started bubbling over with all the same news as Gary, from her own perspective. She said even this afternoon and all it contained was like a mini-vacation, and she felt so refreshed. It was hard to tell who was happiest!
It's amazing how infectious a little bit of encouragement becomes. Gary's encouraged, which encourages Katie, and their both being encouraged at the same time becomes a delight for me to hear. I got to share it with my friends Lanae and Scott, and they thought it was pretty neat as well. How good God is, to provide for such a wonderful afternoon and give Gary and Katie a great pick-me-up when both had been working so hard at their various challenges! He is good and merciful and kind; "The Lord is my strength and my song, and He has become my salvation." Psalm 118:14.
Tonight Gary called our home phone. He was giving me a rundown of how the day went with Katie. He had already told me some about the interview (which so far left him undecided if they should offer him the job), but this time he was just bubbling over with the day's events afterward. While he was talking, Katie called my cell phone. He told me to call him back later, and when I answered Katie, she started bubbling over with all the same news as Gary, from her own perspective. She said even this afternoon and all it contained was like a mini-vacation, and she felt so refreshed. It was hard to tell who was happiest!
It's amazing how infectious a little bit of encouragement becomes. Gary's encouraged, which encourages Katie, and their both being encouraged at the same time becomes a delight for me to hear. I got to share it with my friends Lanae and Scott, and they thought it was pretty neat as well. How good God is, to provide for such a wonderful afternoon and give Gary and Katie a great pick-me-up when both had been working so hard at their various challenges! He is good and merciful and kind; "The Lord is my strength and my song, and He has become my salvation." Psalm 118:14.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
God is Good, and His Mercy Prevails Over our Plans
Sometimes it is in verbalizing something that I come to realize the truth of it. (I guess what I mean is that I think while I am yet speaking or writing, rather than beforehand--not always the best habit, but it's often how my thoughts come together.) My brother and I e-mail back and forth sometimes, usually in a flurry for a few days, then nothing for weeks. It happened this way after Easter. I like to hear from him; he's the only one in my family that is so communicative. It isn't that we share faith, or much in the way of interests. Sometimes our sense of humor has similarities, and of course we know the family we were raised in, but that might be most of what we have in common.
So when he e-mailed me after Easter and told me of the Easter egg hunt he provided for his three teenage girls, as if it were a burden while I know he actually loved doing it (it was probably his idea, not his daughters'), I e-mailed him back about our strange yet perfect Easter. I don't think I realized just how perfect it was, how wonderfully God had known our needs more than we had ourselves, but in the writing of it, it became clear. Our God is good!
I think of Easter primarily as a day of remembering God's goodness, in Jesus' resurrection that assures ours; it is the greatest goodness, an intrinsic trait of God that manifested itself so powerfully and visibly in Jesus' rising from the dead. It is a goodness to which much of the world is tragically blind, and yet God in His abundant grace still provided it while all of us were still blind and dead in our transgressions. And God showed His goodness to us this Easter Sunday, not in causing us to celebrate it in the traditional way that we would have, but in the way that He Himself prescribed for us that day, in rest.
I had been busy for the previous week doing all sorts of cooking and having people over. Our daughter Katie was home from college and various people had called saying that they wanted to see her. She also wanted to get together with her friends from college a few times during that week (and I protested the irony in this, that she comes home to be with family and runs off to be with her college friends, but I am truly glad for the strength of these friendships). Altogether it was one of the busier weeks I've had in a while, of people coming by and Katie going places. Since Katie doesn't drive, there was more driving than usual. This is fine. I enjoy having her in town, and enabling her to catch up on rest, on homework, and on social life, which is for the most part the focus of her time when she is home. I joke that when she comes home she goes from sensory overload to sensory deprivation, but she is becoming so adept at the overload aspect that during this break she didn't allow herself to really enjoy the quiet as much as she did at Christmas break. But I digress.
Besides the added busyness of increased hospitality and providing for Katie's needs, I was also preparing for Easter. We had made arrangements for a family with five children (other than one on a trip) to come over for the afternoon after church. In my usual way, I prepared lots of food: ham, a potato dish, carrots, cole slaw, green bean casserole, and a pineapple upside-down cake. All of this in huge quantity to feed the masses. Also a bunch of bags of Easter candy for our usual pagan aspect of the day, an Easter egg hunt. I was glad that now we have a refrigerator in the garage, and I could put this food out there in an orderly way, rather than in the soggy and doubtful nature of coolers on the deck. Not only had I prepared this Easter dinner, but a couple of pull-aparts for a brunch at church, and then Sunday morning, I prepared a rice dish for this as well.
We enjoyed the church morning, and after that the brunch potluck, but just as it started we received some daunting news: the family we had invited had two members who were feeling sick. The flu has been going around the area, and it is a ghastly bug that hangs on and leaves a person with bronchial problems for a while--and I was picturing this as what they had. A horrible picture, especially with so many little ones. The other aspect was the picture of the refrigerator at home, so full of so many big dishes loaded with food. What could we do? We made plans to call another family on the way home, a family with seven children who could probably plow their way through most of the food we had on hand and who would enjoy an Easter egg hunt.
We called that family, but they couldn't come either; their goats were having kids, and needed attending for that time. Later I found out they had ten new kid goats. Glad it's them and not me! We went home still pondering who could come over. Once we got home, though, and walked through the door, a wave of exhaustion came over me. Not just a wave, rather, a flood. The lack of friends, of children running through the house was a mercy, a blessing, a rest. God is good. Three of us slept, Tim watched movies, and we had a restful afternoon, not even eating our Easter dinner, but finishing off some leftovers instead.
It also turned out that the family who came down sick had only a short-lived, light bug and recovered pretty much by the next day, so though they were sick for that time, it isn't as though our rest came at such a great cost to them as we thought. As it was, Katie came down with a sore throat a couple of nights later; maybe our mutual isolations were another mercy; it's good we didn't all join our germs together for a big germ-fest and get each other all the more bombarded while we were all so weak.
The next night, we had another family over who were already scheduled to come, and we had our Easter dinner a day late. It was wonderful to serve a big dinner with a huge rest between the day of making it and the day of serving it. I could not have (or rather would not have) planned it that way, but God in His wisdom and great love planned us a strange Easter that we didn't have the wisdom to plan on our own. God is good, and I love Him.
So when he e-mailed me after Easter and told me of the Easter egg hunt he provided for his three teenage girls, as if it were a burden while I know he actually loved doing it (it was probably his idea, not his daughters'), I e-mailed him back about our strange yet perfect Easter. I don't think I realized just how perfect it was, how wonderfully God had known our needs more than we had ourselves, but in the writing of it, it became clear. Our God is good!
I think of Easter primarily as a day of remembering God's goodness, in Jesus' resurrection that assures ours; it is the greatest goodness, an intrinsic trait of God that manifested itself so powerfully and visibly in Jesus' rising from the dead. It is a goodness to which much of the world is tragically blind, and yet God in His abundant grace still provided it while all of us were still blind and dead in our transgressions. And God showed His goodness to us this Easter Sunday, not in causing us to celebrate it in the traditional way that we would have, but in the way that He Himself prescribed for us that day, in rest.
I had been busy for the previous week doing all sorts of cooking and having people over. Our daughter Katie was home from college and various people had called saying that they wanted to see her. She also wanted to get together with her friends from college a few times during that week (and I protested the irony in this, that she comes home to be with family and runs off to be with her college friends, but I am truly glad for the strength of these friendships). Altogether it was one of the busier weeks I've had in a while, of people coming by and Katie going places. Since Katie doesn't drive, there was more driving than usual. This is fine. I enjoy having her in town, and enabling her to catch up on rest, on homework, and on social life, which is for the most part the focus of her time when she is home. I joke that when she comes home she goes from sensory overload to sensory deprivation, but she is becoming so adept at the overload aspect that during this break she didn't allow herself to really enjoy the quiet as much as she did at Christmas break. But I digress.
Besides the added busyness of increased hospitality and providing for Katie's needs, I was also preparing for Easter. We had made arrangements for a family with five children (other than one on a trip) to come over for the afternoon after church. In my usual way, I prepared lots of food: ham, a potato dish, carrots, cole slaw, green bean casserole, and a pineapple upside-down cake. All of this in huge quantity to feed the masses. Also a bunch of bags of Easter candy for our usual pagan aspect of the day, an Easter egg hunt. I was glad that now we have a refrigerator in the garage, and I could put this food out there in an orderly way, rather than in the soggy and doubtful nature of coolers on the deck. Not only had I prepared this Easter dinner, but a couple of pull-aparts for a brunch at church, and then Sunday morning, I prepared a rice dish for this as well.
We enjoyed the church morning, and after that the brunch potluck, but just as it started we received some daunting news: the family we had invited had two members who were feeling sick. The flu has been going around the area, and it is a ghastly bug that hangs on and leaves a person with bronchial problems for a while--and I was picturing this as what they had. A horrible picture, especially with so many little ones. The other aspect was the picture of the refrigerator at home, so full of so many big dishes loaded with food. What could we do? We made plans to call another family on the way home, a family with seven children who could probably plow their way through most of the food we had on hand and who would enjoy an Easter egg hunt.
We called that family, but they couldn't come either; their goats were having kids, and needed attending for that time. Later I found out they had ten new kid goats. Glad it's them and not me! We went home still pondering who could come over. Once we got home, though, and walked through the door, a wave of exhaustion came over me. Not just a wave, rather, a flood. The lack of friends, of children running through the house was a mercy, a blessing, a rest. God is good. Three of us slept, Tim watched movies, and we had a restful afternoon, not even eating our Easter dinner, but finishing off some leftovers instead.
It also turned out that the family who came down sick had only a short-lived, light bug and recovered pretty much by the next day, so though they were sick for that time, it isn't as though our rest came at such a great cost to them as we thought. As it was, Katie came down with a sore throat a couple of nights later; maybe our mutual isolations were another mercy; it's good we didn't all join our germs together for a big germ-fest and get each other all the more bombarded while we were all so weak.
The next night, we had another family over who were already scheduled to come, and we had our Easter dinner a day late. It was wonderful to serve a big dinner with a huge rest between the day of making it and the day of serving it. I could not have (or rather would not have) planned it that way, but God in His wisdom and great love planned us a strange Easter that we didn't have the wisdom to plan on our own. God is good, and I love Him.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Cold, Sand, and Anemones...by Flashlight
Barnacles and sea slugs, anemones and shrimpy bugs...okay, so I'm not a poet. Still, these animals are on my mind! We were nose-to-er...who-knows-what with them last night. Gary found a blurb in the newspaper promoting the WSU Beach Watchers starlight beach walk in the extreme minus tide. It's not typical for Gary to pick up on those types of things, but this time he did with great enthusiasm, asking everyone he could whether they'd want to go along. We only got one taker, Richard, a friend of Tim's.
Richard was admonished by his mom not to go swimming...she said he would if she didn't tell him not to. He was wearing the full-height rubber boots, and had his head lamp so he wouldn't have to carry a flashlight. Ready to go! I promised her we'd keep track of him and not let him get washed away.
It didn't take long after we'd arrived for the boys to head off apart from us. We walked in the wrong direction looking for them, so when we turned around and finally found them I was a bit perplexed to see them in water up to near the top of their boots. It took three times telling them to get out of the water for them to get all the way back onto the sand, hesitating like toddlers would because they were loathe to leave it. I could envision them losing their footing and falling in, and me being responsible for the resultant hypothermia. After a thorough explanation of why they needed to stay with us, we continued and saw everything we could find of what the sand and pilings were willing to share with us.
There wasn't as much sea life as we might have hoped, since it's not a beach full of very big rocks, but we looked at those things we could find and talked with the volunteers who were so happy to share what they knew of the animals. I told them the things I remembered seeing at Coos Bay when I was at a camp there, the pycnopodia and the gumboot chiton (I always think of footballs when I see them), little octopi and ceramic crabs. When I told them that some of the students at our camp had been talked into putting their tongues on the anemones, they laughed. I guess they knew the resultant numb tongue; they were too kind to ask any of us to do the same. (That was one of the few occasions in my youth that I exhibited any wisdom, was in not trying that little experiment. I guess I've always valued my power of speech a little more than I might.)
Strangely enough, there were anemones that appeared to be fastened not to rock, but to the dense sand deposits in the area, among the sea grasses that grew there. All of these anemones were tiny, whereas on the rocks they grow to quite a bit larger. I think it shows that this sand was an unfavorable place for an animal intended for the solid grounding that only a rock can give--either the stress of being less-fastened kept them small, or after reaching a certain size, I imagine they might be too big for the sand to hold them any longer, and they would wash away before maturity. It was the only place that my mind could imagine to connect with life in Christ. We are intended for life on the Rock. The shifting sands will keep us small and we will not withstand the storms, but lose our footing and be washed away.
Even though the fauna of the area was limited, I think the boys enjoyed it. Perhaps they would have been happy with the outing even if we hadn't found anything; just getting out and poking around in a cold, messy area by flashlight in the dark of the night was right up their alley. Seeing a few critters that weren't native to their neighborhood habitats was just a bonus. Still, next time (and I hope there will be a next time soon, it was very much fun), I think we will go to Mukilteo Beach where the sea life is said to be much more plentiful.
I wish we were more prone to get away and do these things! Viewing more aspects of God's creation brings a greater awareness and appreciation of His wonderful works. Besides the fact that it's just plain fun.
Richard was admonished by his mom not to go swimming...she said he would if she didn't tell him not to. He was wearing the full-height rubber boots, and had his head lamp so he wouldn't have to carry a flashlight. Ready to go! I promised her we'd keep track of him and not let him get washed away.
It didn't take long after we'd arrived for the boys to head off apart from us. We walked in the wrong direction looking for them, so when we turned around and finally found them I was a bit perplexed to see them in water up to near the top of their boots. It took three times telling them to get out of the water for them to get all the way back onto the sand, hesitating like toddlers would because they were loathe to leave it. I could envision them losing their footing and falling in, and me being responsible for the resultant hypothermia. After a thorough explanation of why they needed to stay with us, we continued and saw everything we could find of what the sand and pilings were willing to share with us.
There wasn't as much sea life as we might have hoped, since it's not a beach full of very big rocks, but we looked at those things we could find and talked with the volunteers who were so happy to share what they knew of the animals. I told them the things I remembered seeing at Coos Bay when I was at a camp there, the pycnopodia and the gumboot chiton (I always think of footballs when I see them), little octopi and ceramic crabs. When I told them that some of the students at our camp had been talked into putting their tongues on the anemones, they laughed. I guess they knew the resultant numb tongue; they were too kind to ask any of us to do the same. (That was one of the few occasions in my youth that I exhibited any wisdom, was in not trying that little experiment. I guess I've always valued my power of speech a little more than I might.)
Strangely enough, there were anemones that appeared to be fastened not to rock, but to the dense sand deposits in the area, among the sea grasses that grew there. All of these anemones were tiny, whereas on the rocks they grow to quite a bit larger. I think it shows that this sand was an unfavorable place for an animal intended for the solid grounding that only a rock can give--either the stress of being less-fastened kept them small, or after reaching a certain size, I imagine they might be too big for the sand to hold them any longer, and they would wash away before maturity. It was the only place that my mind could imagine to connect with life in Christ. We are intended for life on the Rock. The shifting sands will keep us small and we will not withstand the storms, but lose our footing and be washed away.
Even though the fauna of the area was limited, I think the boys enjoyed it. Perhaps they would have been happy with the outing even if we hadn't found anything; just getting out and poking around in a cold, messy area by flashlight in the dark of the night was right up their alley. Seeing a few critters that weren't native to their neighborhood habitats was just a bonus. Still, next time (and I hope there will be a next time soon, it was very much fun), I think we will go to Mukilteo Beach where the sea life is said to be much more plentiful.
I wish we were more prone to get away and do these things! Viewing more aspects of God's creation brings a greater awareness and appreciation of His wonderful works. Besides the fact that it's just plain fun.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Tim Turns Ten
Today our house is surrounded by a number of wild, crazy males bearing arms. Well, they're 9- to 12-year-old males bearing Nerf guns and toy light sabres. Last year, I planned out Tim's birthday party in detail, to the point that I had gathered enough game ideas that I was sure that I could keep them busy for the duration of the time that they were here. As I went along it got more and more frustrating trying to keep the attention of the boys so that I could tell them what came next. It was increasingly evident that they didn't want to play games, and so to my surprise, what they chose instead was to go down into our basement and play on our foosball game table. They went down and for the remainder of the time kept themselves perfectly happy just hanging out together.
So this year, we didn't plan any games. Tim and I cleaned the basement (you have no idea what that means unless you've seen the "before" picture--suffice it to say, we're getting rid of about 5 bins of toys and accumulation), and I planned food...lots of food! And the boys couldn't be happier. We left the Nerf guns and light sabres, yoyos, bongo drums, and jenga blocks in easy reach, and put out the card table to fill with food. The boys played on the foosball table for a brief time, and then went to Nerf guns--first inside, then when they got too warm they went outside. They kept themselves busy for quite a while, then came in for cake.
I think they enjoyed themselves--they kept thanking me, whereas I thanked them in return. What's a party without guests? They made it. I love seeing Tim get older; life gets easier, and I think that's a nice return on the work of raising him to this point. In spite of the fairly wide age range, and the fact that not all of them knew each other to start with, they were all relating well all the way through. I am blessed! God is great. He keeps showing me, even though I already know it.
So this year, we didn't plan any games. Tim and I cleaned the basement (you have no idea what that means unless you've seen the "before" picture--suffice it to say, we're getting rid of about 5 bins of toys and accumulation), and I planned food...lots of food! And the boys couldn't be happier. We left the Nerf guns and light sabres, yoyos, bongo drums, and jenga blocks in easy reach, and put out the card table to fill with food. The boys played on the foosball table for a brief time, and then went to Nerf guns--first inside, then when they got too warm they went outside. They kept themselves busy for quite a while, then came in for cake.
I think they enjoyed themselves--they kept thanking me, whereas I thanked them in return. What's a party without guests? They made it. I love seeing Tim get older; life gets easier, and I think that's a nice return on the work of raising him to this point. In spite of the fairly wide age range, and the fact that not all of them knew each other to start with, they were all relating well all the way through. I am blessed! God is great. He keeps showing me, even though I already know it.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
The Missing Parts of my Testimony!
Just today I realized that my testimony (how God brought me to know Him) has much more than I've written in my profile to the right on the screen. The most interesting part is missing!
Still, some of it is beyond words--such as the hopelessness I felt, the emptiness that was an almost physical sensation like a huge hole in my middle. There was a time in high school when I was pondering suicide, seeing that my life seemed to have no significance and I could not pull myself out of its meaninglessness. As I recall, all that saved me at that time was that my sister noticed my increasing listlessness and said that things would improve. I'm not sure why I believed her; but I went on to get married at age 23 and have our first child at 27...and start sinking into hopelessness again at 29.
Nothing was going right in our life, and I had tried fixing things myself: tried getting along with my mother-in-law (who we later found out was coming down with Alzheimers, which makes many of its patients contentious); doing my best for my colicky daughter (it probably wasn't colic, she was almost two, but it was like it), who woke up every night at 2:00 a.m.; keeping up with repairs on our house--I remember spending a month of evenings using a heat gun and scraper to peel the marine paint that was layers thick and checkering on our front porch, and fixing a wobbly leg on our table using a drill and dowel and glue. I fixed appliances and electric outlets; I was constantly overwhelmed with things to do after work, and it seemed that nothing put a dent in the things that needed doing. No trying to hold my tongue helped my relationship with relatives, no economizing helped our ever-increasing money problems. I was constantly exhausted, overwhelmed with allergies and problems, and could hardly think straight with all these struggles.
Maybe I was obnoxious toward family, but I don't remember being so. I do remember carrying all my complaints about my mother-in-law to work, and looking back I picture myself with all sorts of sore thumbs sticking out from every direction. I was a mess, and lots of Christians started trying to help me. One invited me to a Bible study. I didn't understand anything they said there, but afterward, I asked, "Why are there bumper stickers that say that Jesus is alive? He died on the cross!" The man directing the study asked if I'd heard of the resurrection (Jesus died on the cross, but He rose from the dead after three days; His tomb was empty even though there were Roman guards posted there). Since I wasn't sure, he explained it to me. Well, I asked, "So didn't Jesus die again? I don't see Him walking around today." The man was patient. "Have you ever heard of the Ascension?" (Jesus appeared to over 500 people, and as His disciples watched, He rose to heaven and is seated now at the right hand of the Father in heaven, alive today.) I thought about this. A person couldn't live on earth 2,000 years, but in heaven, I figured it was possible. Well, I didn't come to any quick conclusions that day, but an important step was made. I hadn't known Jesus was alive. I couldn't worship a dead man, but Jesus wasn't dead after all.
Katie had been waking up every 2:00 a.m. for most of her life. Suddenly she started sleeping through the night. I didn't; she had me conditioned, and I woke up at 2:00 a.m. with nothing to do but think. I thought about the various things people had said. I had a vague notion that Christianity somehow started with a transaction, and that I had to give up my life to get something meaningful that Jesus had for me. That was honestly about all that I knew about it, and I don't know how I knew that much.
So I thought about my life, and in a rather systematic fashion, I assessed how much of my life was worth keeping. There wasn't much I wouldn't give up at that time. Katie was my biggest hesitation, but she was often colicky and quite difficult (anyone who knows her now would wonder at that, but we have witnesses who would testify!). Besides, I remember figuring, I might have her as a friend until she was 13, but from what I'd heard, that would be about the end of it. Still, I had my doubts that He was going to demand Katie as part of this mysterious exchange; I honestly didn't know what the exchange consisted of at all. I was desperate, but I went to sleep.
The next night, again, Katie slept, and I woke up at 2:00 a.m. like I was supposed to. This is the strangest part: We need to flash back to when I was about 14 and my brother was going to college at Portland State University. He'd come home from his day's schooling and tell my mom in a mocking tone about someone who'd stand on the street corner and shout out a Bible verse. I don't remember ever having thought about that up until this time, the verses were somewhere latent in my brain, but this night my brother's mocking voice came to my mind, mocking salvation verses: "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved." Various verses went through my mind, but the mocking was getting to me. I asked God to make the mocking go away, and everything went silent. I went to sleep again.
The third night, Katie slept, I awoke, and I thought about the previous two nights. I was overwhelmed, desperate, and exhausted. I didn't know what Jesus had in store for me. I don't know what I thought He was going to do with my life, but I guess I thought I was going to lose anything significant that I had. The picture that was in my mind was of taking a step off of a cliff into darkness. Finally, I took that step. I surrendered to Christ, and I had no idea what that meant, except that I guess I thought He would rescue me. I didn't realize that the conventional way is to acknowledge in prayer that you're a sinner and that you need a Savior. Still, I knew I was in all ways inadequate; I knew I needed something He had but I wasn't sure what. I knew very little! I went to sleep, and I'm not sure that the next day I even took note of having done anything significant in the wee hours of the night before.
God was gracious to accept my exchange, and what He first gave me was an insatiable desire to know His word, but I couldn't while I was a working mom. He made it very clear that I had to quit work, even though Gary was working part-time and looking for full-time work at the time. I did so, and I remember just starting to feel the peace that came with His salvation.
It's funny, many of the things (but not all of them) that brought me to that desperate point were lifted almost immediately: I was diagnosed as severely anemic, and three days of triple iron doses transformed my energy level; Katie suddenly turned sweet and compliant (I think it was because she was at home, where she wanted to be); 1 1/2 years later Gary got a full-time job. We started attending a church that taught the Bible at about our level (ignorant beginner).
Not everything got better. Gary's mom of course remained sick; still, she was diagnosed, which reduced her influence in the family and that made things much easier. There are other things that have never been "solved" either, but that isn't the point.
The fact is, even if any of my earthly struggles hadn't improved, the exchange would have been worth making. God has given me peace, joy, contentment, the ability to love and forgive like I never had before. Besides that, I know that I can look forward to a future hope of heaven with Him. That alone is worth anything a person could give to get there--and yet all you can give is your heart, your love for Him, your obedience to Him (that comes out of your love for Him and He makes it much easier than it sounds!). Nothing could make me go back. Praise be to God, Hallelujah! Amen!
Still, some of it is beyond words--such as the hopelessness I felt, the emptiness that was an almost physical sensation like a huge hole in my middle. There was a time in high school when I was pondering suicide, seeing that my life seemed to have no significance and I could not pull myself out of its meaninglessness. As I recall, all that saved me at that time was that my sister noticed my increasing listlessness and said that things would improve. I'm not sure why I believed her; but I went on to get married at age 23 and have our first child at 27...and start sinking into hopelessness again at 29.
Nothing was going right in our life, and I had tried fixing things myself: tried getting along with my mother-in-law (who we later found out was coming down with Alzheimers, which makes many of its patients contentious); doing my best for my colicky daughter (it probably wasn't colic, she was almost two, but it was like it), who woke up every night at 2:00 a.m.; keeping up with repairs on our house--I remember spending a month of evenings using a heat gun and scraper to peel the marine paint that was layers thick and checkering on our front porch, and fixing a wobbly leg on our table using a drill and dowel and glue. I fixed appliances and electric outlets; I was constantly overwhelmed with things to do after work, and it seemed that nothing put a dent in the things that needed doing. No trying to hold my tongue helped my relationship with relatives, no economizing helped our ever-increasing money problems. I was constantly exhausted, overwhelmed with allergies and problems, and could hardly think straight with all these struggles.
Maybe I was obnoxious toward family, but I don't remember being so. I do remember carrying all my complaints about my mother-in-law to work, and looking back I picture myself with all sorts of sore thumbs sticking out from every direction. I was a mess, and lots of Christians started trying to help me. One invited me to a Bible study. I didn't understand anything they said there, but afterward, I asked, "Why are there bumper stickers that say that Jesus is alive? He died on the cross!" The man directing the study asked if I'd heard of the resurrection (Jesus died on the cross, but He rose from the dead after three days; His tomb was empty even though there were Roman guards posted there). Since I wasn't sure, he explained it to me. Well, I asked, "So didn't Jesus die again? I don't see Him walking around today." The man was patient. "Have you ever heard of the Ascension?" (Jesus appeared to over 500 people, and as His disciples watched, He rose to heaven and is seated now at the right hand of the Father in heaven, alive today.) I thought about this. A person couldn't live on earth 2,000 years, but in heaven, I figured it was possible. Well, I didn't come to any quick conclusions that day, but an important step was made. I hadn't known Jesus was alive. I couldn't worship a dead man, but Jesus wasn't dead after all.
Katie had been waking up every 2:00 a.m. for most of her life. Suddenly she started sleeping through the night. I didn't; she had me conditioned, and I woke up at 2:00 a.m. with nothing to do but think. I thought about the various things people had said. I had a vague notion that Christianity somehow started with a transaction, and that I had to give up my life to get something meaningful that Jesus had for me. That was honestly about all that I knew about it, and I don't know how I knew that much.
So I thought about my life, and in a rather systematic fashion, I assessed how much of my life was worth keeping. There wasn't much I wouldn't give up at that time. Katie was my biggest hesitation, but she was often colicky and quite difficult (anyone who knows her now would wonder at that, but we have witnesses who would testify!). Besides, I remember figuring, I might have her as a friend until she was 13, but from what I'd heard, that would be about the end of it. Still, I had my doubts that He was going to demand Katie as part of this mysterious exchange; I honestly didn't know what the exchange consisted of at all. I was desperate, but I went to sleep.
The next night, again, Katie slept, and I woke up at 2:00 a.m. like I was supposed to. This is the strangest part: We need to flash back to when I was about 14 and my brother was going to college at Portland State University. He'd come home from his day's schooling and tell my mom in a mocking tone about someone who'd stand on the street corner and shout out a Bible verse. I don't remember ever having thought about that up until this time, the verses were somewhere latent in my brain, but this night my brother's mocking voice came to my mind, mocking salvation verses: "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved." Various verses went through my mind, but the mocking was getting to me. I asked God to make the mocking go away, and everything went silent. I went to sleep again.
The third night, Katie slept, I awoke, and I thought about the previous two nights. I was overwhelmed, desperate, and exhausted. I didn't know what Jesus had in store for me. I don't know what I thought He was going to do with my life, but I guess I thought I was going to lose anything significant that I had. The picture that was in my mind was of taking a step off of a cliff into darkness. Finally, I took that step. I surrendered to Christ, and I had no idea what that meant, except that I guess I thought He would rescue me. I didn't realize that the conventional way is to acknowledge in prayer that you're a sinner and that you need a Savior. Still, I knew I was in all ways inadequate; I knew I needed something He had but I wasn't sure what. I knew very little! I went to sleep, and I'm not sure that the next day I even took note of having done anything significant in the wee hours of the night before.
God was gracious to accept my exchange, and what He first gave me was an insatiable desire to know His word, but I couldn't while I was a working mom. He made it very clear that I had to quit work, even though Gary was working part-time and looking for full-time work at the time. I did so, and I remember just starting to feel the peace that came with His salvation.
It's funny, many of the things (but not all of them) that brought me to that desperate point were lifted almost immediately: I was diagnosed as severely anemic, and three days of triple iron doses transformed my energy level; Katie suddenly turned sweet and compliant (I think it was because she was at home, where she wanted to be); 1 1/2 years later Gary got a full-time job. We started attending a church that taught the Bible at about our level (ignorant beginner).
Not everything got better. Gary's mom of course remained sick; still, she was diagnosed, which reduced her influence in the family and that made things much easier. There are other things that have never been "solved" either, but that isn't the point.
The fact is, even if any of my earthly struggles hadn't improved, the exchange would have been worth making. God has given me peace, joy, contentment, the ability to love and forgive like I never had before. Besides that, I know that I can look forward to a future hope of heaven with Him. That alone is worth anything a person could give to get there--and yet all you can give is your heart, your love for Him, your obedience to Him (that comes out of your love for Him and He makes it much easier than it sounds!). Nothing could make me go back. Praise be to God, Hallelujah! Amen!
Friday, January 25, 2008
My Memory of My Father
My friend Lanae watched Tim yesterday--took him to music class along with her boys, and took him home to play with them afterward. We often trade off doing this, and I needed the afternoon, so next week is my turn. Anyway, when I came to pick him up we sat down and got talking. The talk turned to how much we remembered our dads--hers died when she was 11, mine died when I was 10. Funny, neither she nor I could remember their faces apart from pictures. All the stranger when I realize neither her boys nor Tim are yet 10, and they would probably be in the same condition if they lost one of their parents. I tend to think of Tim as so much older than I was at the time, and assume that of course he would remember us...and that's also strange.
Lanae and I both remember strange things. My dad was the strongest element in our family, in terms of running the show and holding us all to the consistent, precise, stated family rules and not letting any of us vary from the Jones program, all of which fell apart when he died. I know my dad and I got along well (but I don't remember how that manifested itself), I remember the dinnertime grace he used to say, I know of an actor whose voice sounds like his did, I remember that he thought we should send our tv programming to the Russians in order to win the Cold War. He loved steak and ice cream and eggs; he smoked and drank and I'm not sure what his beliefs were, but I think he was kind of impacted by a Catholic nun we knew. He was fastidious and kept his desk and his tools in their exact assigned order (and I learned not to touch anything in his desk or he would know it, no matter how carefully I put it back). He was conservative and I never knew until after he died that my mom is liberal--they must have agreed not to discuss it, because they never argued (my mom clams up if she doesn't agree--that's how she expresses it, unlike most of our family). He loved to spend money, though we never had any until I was 6, when his father died and he came into a trust from his mom.
I know he loved the "Cheaper by the Dozen" book on which the movies are loosely based, and he would have loved to have 12 kids--there were six of us. He probably would have had us homeschool if it were available at the time and especially if my mom had been willing (but she wouldn't have). He loved the outdoors so we went camping or on picnics even in the rain and wind; he loved tools and old cars, he made things, he barbecued, and he took thousands of pictures--only a few of which I have.
I don't remember many interactions between us, though. I remember the probably only time he ever spanked me, he immediately acted troubled about having done so (strange, since spanking all the older kids came perfectly natural to him). I remember him bringing a few presents home from outings on days other than special occasions, just because he wanted to. He and my mom used to go to coffee or lunch pretty much every day in the final few years of his life. And that is about all I remember.
When he died, the whole family's dynamics changed. My mom went to work probably about the time my little brother Greg started off to school, and my older brothers and sisters started being less family-focused and more outwardly social, the older ones dating, getting jobs, and doing typical teen things. I was generally at home, and as I recall I became more aware of being alone--with my little brother most of the time, but very much alone. The funny thing is, I don't remember much of that time at all--how my brother got to and from school (he was 7 years younger than I, and I never went with him), who watched him if I stayed after school (which hardly ever happened, if I remember right). I think if I asked Greg, maybe he could fill me in, but I don't think either of us were very happy with the setup.
The thing is, Lanae is very much like me in her memories of her father--she remembers the layout of his apartment (he and her mom had divorced), but not his face except in photos. She remembers weird little details, but not the overall picture; she too was alone at home most of the time in her remaining growing years, but doesn't remember the specifics of how she and her mom dealt with it. It must be something about the age.
She and I both felt impacted inwardly, socially messed up by being alone so much of our growing years. I remember that vividly, the painful feeling of not measuring up, of feeling that everyone else had it all together and that I never would. (It's a good thing in a way, because otherwise I might never have known my need for Christ!) I know what I've been like, and if God hasn't made me normal (whatever that is), at least He's made it so it doesn't matter; if my focus is on Him, and if He loves me, what does it matter how socially inept I might be, as long as I do my best? Lanae, in spite of having had this same awful inadequate feeling as well, seems so normal from everything I've seen. She does a fantastic job raising her three sons in spite of the fact that her husband's in the military and much of the parenting she does all on her own. God is great and gracious--and He restores the years the locusts have eaten. I know, in spite of a heightened awareness of my many inadequacies, so much more, how He is all my adequacy. Hallelujah!
It shows how man looks so readily at the outer appearance. We often don't know from observing a person on the outside what is really going on inside, or what their history is: what they've dealt with, what's changing, where they are as we see them today, how far they have come to get to where they are now, and how much more they have yet to go through. God does, and He does so entirely in love and compassion. He cares, our hurts are His hurts, and He is our Healer and Restorer, our Heavenly Father. Lanae and I both now have a Father, a perfect Father, who knows us and loves us and will never leave us nor forsake us. Already He has done a great amount of restoration. When we are done, we will be perfect as well; we will be like Him. Hallelujah, Amen!
Lanae and I both remember strange things. My dad was the strongest element in our family, in terms of running the show and holding us all to the consistent, precise, stated family rules and not letting any of us vary from the Jones program, all of which fell apart when he died. I know my dad and I got along well (but I don't remember how that manifested itself), I remember the dinnertime grace he used to say, I know of an actor whose voice sounds like his did, I remember that he thought we should send our tv programming to the Russians in order to win the Cold War. He loved steak and ice cream and eggs; he smoked and drank and I'm not sure what his beliefs were, but I think he was kind of impacted by a Catholic nun we knew. He was fastidious and kept his desk and his tools in their exact assigned order (and I learned not to touch anything in his desk or he would know it, no matter how carefully I put it back). He was conservative and I never knew until after he died that my mom is liberal--they must have agreed not to discuss it, because they never argued (my mom clams up if she doesn't agree--that's how she expresses it, unlike most of our family). He loved to spend money, though we never had any until I was 6, when his father died and he came into a trust from his mom.
I know he loved the "Cheaper by the Dozen" book on which the movies are loosely based, and he would have loved to have 12 kids--there were six of us. He probably would have had us homeschool if it were available at the time and especially if my mom had been willing (but she wouldn't have). He loved the outdoors so we went camping or on picnics even in the rain and wind; he loved tools and old cars, he made things, he barbecued, and he took thousands of pictures--only a few of which I have.
I don't remember many interactions between us, though. I remember the probably only time he ever spanked me, he immediately acted troubled about having done so (strange, since spanking all the older kids came perfectly natural to him). I remember him bringing a few presents home from outings on days other than special occasions, just because he wanted to. He and my mom used to go to coffee or lunch pretty much every day in the final few years of his life. And that is about all I remember.
When he died, the whole family's dynamics changed. My mom went to work probably about the time my little brother Greg started off to school, and my older brothers and sisters started being less family-focused and more outwardly social, the older ones dating, getting jobs, and doing typical teen things. I was generally at home, and as I recall I became more aware of being alone--with my little brother most of the time, but very much alone. The funny thing is, I don't remember much of that time at all--how my brother got to and from school (he was 7 years younger than I, and I never went with him), who watched him if I stayed after school (which hardly ever happened, if I remember right). I think if I asked Greg, maybe he could fill me in, but I don't think either of us were very happy with the setup.
The thing is, Lanae is very much like me in her memories of her father--she remembers the layout of his apartment (he and her mom had divorced), but not his face except in photos. She remembers weird little details, but not the overall picture; she too was alone at home most of the time in her remaining growing years, but doesn't remember the specifics of how she and her mom dealt with it. It must be something about the age.
She and I both felt impacted inwardly, socially messed up by being alone so much of our growing years. I remember that vividly, the painful feeling of not measuring up, of feeling that everyone else had it all together and that I never would. (It's a good thing in a way, because otherwise I might never have known my need for Christ!) I know what I've been like, and if God hasn't made me normal (whatever that is), at least He's made it so it doesn't matter; if my focus is on Him, and if He loves me, what does it matter how socially inept I might be, as long as I do my best? Lanae, in spite of having had this same awful inadequate feeling as well, seems so normal from everything I've seen. She does a fantastic job raising her three sons in spite of the fact that her husband's in the military and much of the parenting she does all on her own. God is great and gracious--and He restores the years the locusts have eaten. I know, in spite of a heightened awareness of my many inadequacies, so much more, how He is all my adequacy. Hallelujah!
It shows how man looks so readily at the outer appearance. We often don't know from observing a person on the outside what is really going on inside, or what their history is: what they've dealt with, what's changing, where they are as we see them today, how far they have come to get to where they are now, and how much more they have yet to go through. God does, and He does so entirely in love and compassion. He cares, our hurts are His hurts, and He is our Healer and Restorer, our Heavenly Father. Lanae and I both now have a Father, a perfect Father, who knows us and loves us and will never leave us nor forsake us. Already He has done a great amount of restoration. When we are done, we will be perfect as well; we will be like Him. Hallelujah, Amen!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Air-Soft Pellet Guns, BB-Guns and a Shocking Pastor
On the way home from our Ephesians study, Tim was talking about air-soft pellet guns, because they are his latest obsession, especially considering that he has a birthday looming and he also just received an appallingly extravagant $20 for having taken care of a neighbor dog for one day. Our neighbor boys have for years been obsessed with playing air-soft gun wars to the point that there's hardly a square foot of our yard that I can imagine is free of 10 or 20 of these pellets. Tim has been finding that many of his friends have the guns, and whether he has one seems to be the first question he's asked by them when he visits. I have come to use as my main argument, much to Tim's chagrined exasperation, "You'll shoot your eye out with it." This is a bit of education I received from a movie lent to us, "The Christmas Story," a silly movie where this is a mother's everlasting response to the kid's desire for a bb-gun.
Tim was commenting on how much weaker air-soft pellet guns are than bb-guns, and how boys can be hurt pretty badly by bbs. In response I said, "The only person I ever knew to have shot anyone was a pastor." The pastor at a church we attended about 10 years ago had told as some sermon illustration how as a kid he had shot his neighbor girl in the stomach using a bb-gun. I neglected to tell Tim all the details that we had been given, but I told him that the pastor had shot the girl in the stomach with a bb-gun. "Why did he do that?" Tim asked. I said, "Well, maybe the girl was a little like (insert name of a neighbor girl who, true to her character, at one time has hit Tim with a baseball bat)." This made perfect sense to Tim. "Did the neighbors sue him?" I said I didn't think so, but they weren't very happy with him. Tim sounded more and more incredulous as the story progressed. "Did you know him when he did it?" I had to laugh. "Oh, no, he was a kid when it happened." One small missing detail that made all the difference...
Tim was commenting on how much weaker air-soft pellet guns are than bb-guns, and how boys can be hurt pretty badly by bbs. In response I said, "The only person I ever knew to have shot anyone was a pastor." The pastor at a church we attended about 10 years ago had told as some sermon illustration how as a kid he had shot his neighbor girl in the stomach using a bb-gun. I neglected to tell Tim all the details that we had been given, but I told him that the pastor had shot the girl in the stomach with a bb-gun. "Why did he do that?" Tim asked. I said, "Well, maybe the girl was a little like (insert name of a neighbor girl who, true to her character, at one time has hit Tim with a baseball bat)." This made perfect sense to Tim. "Did the neighbors sue him?" I said I didn't think so, but they weren't very happy with him. Tim sounded more and more incredulous as the story progressed. "Did you know him when he did it?" I had to laugh. "Oh, no, he was a kid when it happened." One small missing detail that made all the difference...
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Beauty of Church, and Change
The other night as I was getting Tim off to bed, as he was lying there winding down for the night, he was reflecting on our church. He sighed (he does that when he's content) and said how much he loves our ugly old church building. He loves that it's old. He loves how worn out it is. I've been thinking the same thing.
The building is cinder block and covered in about 20 coats of yellow paint. It was built about 60 years ago when the original structure burned down. The front steps are of concrete covered in indoor-outdoor "grass" type carpeting...and it's worn through to the concrete...and the concrete is worn to a rounded edge.
When our pastor was visiting our house one night, we showed him a plate that was given to us as a momento of our wedding. We were married in a very traditional chapel-type church in Hillsboro, Oregon, the Old Scotch Church, and the plate had a drawing of the church on it. Pastor Ken looked at the plate and with a wry smile, he said, "We couldn't really do that with our church." I suggested that we could, with a doily over it.
Last night when we were describing our church building to some friends over dessert and dominoes, their grown son said regarding the worn front steps, "That's a good thing." And it is. Those steps show the impact of every footstep that has gone in and out of that church over the years, a testimony to a long continuity (if a small congregation) of faithful believers. The church has remained tiny, and I think it's because of the visual lack of initial appeal in the outside of the building; but the tiny congregation is as sweet as any I've seen. Some friends of ours seemed to be pretty put off by the outward appearance, and that's fine.
We have plans to build a new facility, and it promises good things--the property that the church was given overlooks a beautiful small lake that you see driving into Granite Falls. It's a very appealing site (aside from the mosquitos, which loved the taste of my blood last summer). I can't help but dread a little bit the changes that will undoubtedly occur on the occasion of its opening. There will be a whole population of people who will no longer be put off by the building's appearance. A new building seems like it will unavoidably change the character of the church in general. We've seen a couple of times what is called the "new paint syndrome" of opening a new church building for a church that has already existed beforehand elsewhere, and the growth of the congregations as a result.
Yet who can complain? It is a good thing. It's God's provision for His purpose. If a person is put off by appearance, and conversely attracted by appearance, I'm sure that accomplishes something in sifting people according to the time and place and purpose that God has in mind. If the appearance of a new building is the cultural appeal that brings more people in to hear the gospel presented, so be it. Just so long as the biblical message of the church isn't weakened as a result in hopes of growing the numbers rather than strengthening the spirits of those who attend, who can argue?
That wasn't all that our Tim had to discuss about the church. Last night, after having talked with our friends and telling them about our church, Tim was pondering with pleasure the idea of coming to church this morning. I told him, "I hope the main thing you're looking forward to is the fact that we go to worship God, not that your friends are there." He understood that, and claimed that was in fact his primary reason, but he also went on to say, "I bet Pastor Ken has never said a swear word." I was surprised, partly because I thought he'd bring up something about the friends his age, but he is strongly impressed by the fact that the pastor has befriended him personally. I said that chances were that the pastor had in fact sworn before, that he is only human, after all. He said, "Well, you think he's pretty good." Yes, I respect, admire and will try to imitate the way that he lives out Christ in his life; I haven't found fault with him. Still, I don't make him out to be beyond what humans are capable of. It's easy to put leaders on a pedestal, and I've seen it done with very bad results before. We have to realize the human limitations of everyone, holding them accountable to the perfect standard of faith in Christ, but realizing that all fall short; it's not fair to anyone to expect them to be perfect.
So we look forward to Sundays, if you haven't noticed. It's solid teaching, there's a very sweet fellowship, and I treasure each time we're there. I walk up those worn concrete steps and open the heavy, battered wooden door with great anticipation. The character of the church may change with time, but as long as God is at the center of what goes on there, it's the way it should be.
Well, I stand corrected. I told Kit, Pastor Ken's wife, about Tim's comment, and she said, "He's right. I can vouch for that. I've never heard him swear, and he's never sworn. It isn't that he holds it back, it just isn't there." Well, there you are. I guess Tim could tell, somehow, in Pastor's gentle demeanor. That pedestal...it can be pretty hard to kick out of place sometimes!
The building is cinder block and covered in about 20 coats of yellow paint. It was built about 60 years ago when the original structure burned down. The front steps are of concrete covered in indoor-outdoor "grass" type carpeting...and it's worn through to the concrete...and the concrete is worn to a rounded edge.
When our pastor was visiting our house one night, we showed him a plate that was given to us as a momento of our wedding. We were married in a very traditional chapel-type church in Hillsboro, Oregon, the Old Scotch Church, and the plate had a drawing of the church on it. Pastor Ken looked at the plate and with a wry smile, he said, "We couldn't really do that with our church." I suggested that we could, with a doily over it.
Last night when we were describing our church building to some friends over dessert and dominoes, their grown son said regarding the worn front steps, "That's a good thing." And it is. Those steps show the impact of every footstep that has gone in and out of that church over the years, a testimony to a long continuity (if a small congregation) of faithful believers. The church has remained tiny, and I think it's because of the visual lack of initial appeal in the outside of the building; but the tiny congregation is as sweet as any I've seen. Some friends of ours seemed to be pretty put off by the outward appearance, and that's fine.
We have plans to build a new facility, and it promises good things--the property that the church was given overlooks a beautiful small lake that you see driving into Granite Falls. It's a very appealing site (aside from the mosquitos, which loved the taste of my blood last summer). I can't help but dread a little bit the changes that will undoubtedly occur on the occasion of its opening. There will be a whole population of people who will no longer be put off by the building's appearance. A new building seems like it will unavoidably change the character of the church in general. We've seen a couple of times what is called the "new paint syndrome" of opening a new church building for a church that has already existed beforehand elsewhere, and the growth of the congregations as a result.
Yet who can complain? It is a good thing. It's God's provision for His purpose. If a person is put off by appearance, and conversely attracted by appearance, I'm sure that accomplishes something in sifting people according to the time and place and purpose that God has in mind. If the appearance of a new building is the cultural appeal that brings more people in to hear the gospel presented, so be it. Just so long as the biblical message of the church isn't weakened as a result in hopes of growing the numbers rather than strengthening the spirits of those who attend, who can argue?
That wasn't all that our Tim had to discuss about the church. Last night, after having talked with our friends and telling them about our church, Tim was pondering with pleasure the idea of coming to church this morning. I told him, "I hope the main thing you're looking forward to is the fact that we go to worship God, not that your friends are there." He understood that, and claimed that was in fact his primary reason, but he also went on to say, "I bet Pastor Ken has never said a swear word." I was surprised, partly because I thought he'd bring up something about the friends his age, but he is strongly impressed by the fact that the pastor has befriended him personally. I said that chances were that the pastor had in fact sworn before, that he is only human, after all. He said, "Well, you think he's pretty good." Yes, I respect, admire and will try to imitate the way that he lives out Christ in his life; I haven't found fault with him. Still, I don't make him out to be beyond what humans are capable of. It's easy to put leaders on a pedestal, and I've seen it done with very bad results before. We have to realize the human limitations of everyone, holding them accountable to the perfect standard of faith in Christ, but realizing that all fall short; it's not fair to anyone to expect them to be perfect.
So we look forward to Sundays, if you haven't noticed. It's solid teaching, there's a very sweet fellowship, and I treasure each time we're there. I walk up those worn concrete steps and open the heavy, battered wooden door with great anticipation. The character of the church may change with time, but as long as God is at the center of what goes on there, it's the way it should be.
Well, I stand corrected. I told Kit, Pastor Ken's wife, about Tim's comment, and she said, "He's right. I can vouch for that. I've never heard him swear, and he's never sworn. It isn't that he holds it back, it just isn't there." Well, there you are. I guess Tim could tell, somehow, in Pastor's gentle demeanor. That pedestal...it can be pretty hard to kick out of place sometimes!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The Fun of Scrabble
Katie and Tim and I played Scrabble tonight. It was a sweet thing--we all had a great time trying to fit the words in the most advantageous spot possible. We're all a bit competitive and control freaks to boot. The greatest thing about it was that we all enjoyed each other's company; the next best thing was that they're becoming serious contenders. I'm having to get used to a new depth of competition. It's the first time I've lost that I remember...not that I have that great a memory. Katie won. Tim got almost as many points as I did.
I used to allow Tim to take twice the tiles I did in order to give him an advantage. It didn't take him long to refuse to take the extras. Then for a long time I had to help him create the words. That's becoming less frequent, too. I occasionally have to correct his spelling, but not that often any more. He's becoming more and more canny at the positioning of the words. I think Scrabble is a great game for evaluating a child's progress in word use and strategy. His progress is encouraging to me, too, since his vision has only recently been corrected to the point that reading comes more readily to him. I don't know how he came to do as well as he is, except by God's grace. His average score per turn was a bit over 13.
Katie's skills are a bit more developed. She looked in the dictionary and found a word, "kina," from Papua New Guinea. In our house, if it's in our dictionary and not an acronym, abbreviation, or proper name, you can use it. She also had more instances than the rest of us for using a letter to make two words simultaneously. She got an average score per turn of almost 17 points.
So I think we have a family trait of loving Scrabble, and we will use it for a family fun time as well as for honing our competitive skills. It's a good time. If you enjoy Scrabble, call us and come by, we'd love to have you come over to play it with us!
I used to allow Tim to take twice the tiles I did in order to give him an advantage. It didn't take him long to refuse to take the extras. Then for a long time I had to help him create the words. That's becoming less frequent, too. I occasionally have to correct his spelling, but not that often any more. He's becoming more and more canny at the positioning of the words. I think Scrabble is a great game for evaluating a child's progress in word use and strategy. His progress is encouraging to me, too, since his vision has only recently been corrected to the point that reading comes more readily to him. I don't know how he came to do as well as he is, except by God's grace. His average score per turn was a bit over 13.
Katie's skills are a bit more developed. She looked in the dictionary and found a word, "kina," from Papua New Guinea. In our house, if it's in our dictionary and not an acronym, abbreviation, or proper name, you can use it. She also had more instances than the rest of us for using a letter to make two words simultaneously. She got an average score per turn of almost 17 points.
So I think we have a family trait of loving Scrabble, and we will use it for a family fun time as well as for honing our competitive skills. It's a good time. If you enjoy Scrabble, call us and come by, we'd love to have you come over to play it with us!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Two Lefts don't Make a Right
This Christmas our neighbors Dean and Stacia came over for dinner--they're like an aunt and uncle to Katie and Tim. Tim especially has made lots of connections with them; Stacia works at her computer and watches out the window as Tim plays outside. Over the nearly five years we've been here, she's seen him dress up in myriad outfits imagining himself to be a soldier, spy, cowboy, animal--sometimes we're not too sure what he is. But he gets lots of laughs and attention from them as a result. They've also alerted us when the neighborhood got a bit threatening for Tim. He's one of the youngest kids out there; as a homeschooler (read: perceived as different) and with no siblings playing with him, he's vulnerable to attack from them whether individually or as a gang, and Stacia has saved his skin a number of times. They've also taken him to Denny's, to Boeing Family Days, and other outings.
Overall they're just extremely nice to both Tim and Katie; they spoil them rotten. When Katie came home from college for the Christmas break, Stacia had made a cute big sign on our door to welcome her home. So with it being Christmas, and them being over for dinner, they pulled out the presents they'd brought along for the kids. (My present, since I kept telling her not to buy me ANYthing, was The Incredible Mr. Limpet, a Don Knotts movie I'd given her after it failed to sell at our garage sale. Oh, goody. Really, Stacia. You shouldn't have.) Tim opened up a certificate from Dean for Best Buy--not $10, not even $25, but $50! Dean wanted to get him some games to play. Well, he was happy and thankful, in a "boy, that was nice" kind of way.
Well, that would have been more than enough (really, Dean), but you should have seen Tim's (chicken-pox-spotted) face, his shaking hands, his excitement welling up from his toes, when he opened a second package, this from Stacia. She and I had seen it during the after-Thanksgiving sales. Tim had been hounding, no, badgering, no, what is that superlative? Well it escapes me, but he wanted me to buy him this thing badly. I'd been telling him, no, the TV ads were deceitful, it wasn't going to work like in the ads, it wasn't worth the money, how could they think this mass-produced monstrosity could sell? Every time we were at a store that would carry them, he'd run over to that shelf and gaze at them. Stacia thought it was terribly funny and told me she was going to buy it for Tim and didn't care if it didn't work. No amount of talking could dissuade her. She'd heard about them, told me what they were really like, and then I had even less faith in them. What were these wonderful things? Potato-peeling gloves. Oh, the joy. You take a potato, cook it 5-6 minutes (anything can get a peel off a potato after that long), and take these gloves covered with fishtank rocks, and rub them all over the potato. The potato is practically guaranteed to be peeled within 8 seconds.
So why haven't we tried the gloves after a number of days have gone by? Well, maybe by now we would have. We can't. They're two left gloves! Ha. I told you, these things are never quite like they show in the ads.
Overall they're just extremely nice to both Tim and Katie; they spoil them rotten. When Katie came home from college for the Christmas break, Stacia had made a cute big sign on our door to welcome her home. So with it being Christmas, and them being over for dinner, they pulled out the presents they'd brought along for the kids. (My present, since I kept telling her not to buy me ANYthing, was The Incredible Mr. Limpet, a Don Knotts movie I'd given her after it failed to sell at our garage sale. Oh, goody. Really, Stacia. You shouldn't have.) Tim opened up a certificate from Dean for Best Buy--not $10, not even $25, but $50! Dean wanted to get him some games to play. Well, he was happy and thankful, in a "boy, that was nice" kind of way.
Well, that would have been more than enough (really, Dean), but you should have seen Tim's (chicken-pox-spotted) face, his shaking hands, his excitement welling up from his toes, when he opened a second package, this from Stacia. She and I had seen it during the after-Thanksgiving sales. Tim had been hounding, no, badgering, no, what is that superlative? Well it escapes me, but he wanted me to buy him this thing badly. I'd been telling him, no, the TV ads were deceitful, it wasn't going to work like in the ads, it wasn't worth the money, how could they think this mass-produced monstrosity could sell? Every time we were at a store that would carry them, he'd run over to that shelf and gaze at them. Stacia thought it was terribly funny and told me she was going to buy it for Tim and didn't care if it didn't work. No amount of talking could dissuade her. She'd heard about them, told me what they were really like, and then I had even less faith in them. What were these wonderful things? Potato-peeling gloves. Oh, the joy. You take a potato, cook it 5-6 minutes (anything can get a peel off a potato after that long), and take these gloves covered with fishtank rocks, and rub them all over the potato. The potato is practically guaranteed to be peeled within 8 seconds.
So why haven't we tried the gloves after a number of days have gone by? Well, maybe by now we would have. We can't. They're two left gloves! Ha. I told you, these things are never quite like they show in the ads.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
A Christmas recipe from me to you
Here's a present from me to you--my grandmother's shortbread recipe. It's a Christmas tradition in our family. When I took some to our dentist's office yesterday, our dentist broke his year-long diet to eat one (to the delight of his staff--they were tired of it I guess). Wow! So I share it with you because it's one of my favorite things, always reminding me of my grandmother who has been gone about 16 years. I miss her.
Nana's Scotch Shortbread
Very easy to make. (Don't be frightened by the soft dough--I roll it out on a cutting board and put it in the fridge until just before cutting the cookies out and putting them on the cookie sheet.)
1 c. butter (2 cubes)--never use margarine
1/2 c. powdered sugar
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. corn starch
Pinch salt
Mix thoroughly. Roll out about 1/4-1/2" thick (use a mixture of flour, powdered sugar and corn starch for flouring the board and rolling pin to avoid a floury taste). Cut in about 1" squares. Mark each square with rows of dots using the tines of a fork (I think this is actually to avoid air bubbles on the surface--but it's the traditional design. It's always reminded me of the windows of the apartment building my grandmother lived in.) Since it rolls out in a round shape, some of the cookies will be kind of triangular. The smaller cookies should go in the center of the cookie sheet, and the points of the triangles should be directed toward the center, because they cook first. The thickest and largest cookies should be those closest to the corners of the cookie sheet. These cookies don't spread much, so you can put them fairly close together. Bake 10-12 minutes until the outside corners of the edge cookies turn a little bit golden brown. Don't wait for them all to turn dark, that will be overbaking--they may be fairly white when you pull them out but shouldn't look moist. Store them in a cookie tin or other sealed container, at room temperature, and not with other cookies or they will absorb the flavors. They develop a mellow taste with time; I like them new or old.
Nana's Scotch Shortbread
Very easy to make. (Don't be frightened by the soft dough--I roll it out on a cutting board and put it in the fridge until just before cutting the cookies out and putting them on the cookie sheet.)
1 c. butter (2 cubes)--never use margarine
1/2 c. powdered sugar
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. corn starch
Pinch salt
Mix thoroughly. Roll out about 1/4-1/2" thick (use a mixture of flour, powdered sugar and corn starch for flouring the board and rolling pin to avoid a floury taste). Cut in about 1" squares. Mark each square with rows of dots using the tines of a fork (I think this is actually to avoid air bubbles on the surface--but it's the traditional design. It's always reminded me of the windows of the apartment building my grandmother lived in.) Since it rolls out in a round shape, some of the cookies will be kind of triangular. The smaller cookies should go in the center of the cookie sheet, and the points of the triangles should be directed toward the center, because they cook first. The thickest and largest cookies should be those closest to the corners of the cookie sheet. These cookies don't spread much, so you can put them fairly close together. Bake 10-12 minutes until the outside corners of the edge cookies turn a little bit golden brown. Don't wait for them all to turn dark, that will be overbaking--they may be fairly white when you pull them out but shouldn't look moist. Store them in a cookie tin or other sealed container, at room temperature, and not with other cookies or they will absorb the flavors. They develop a mellow taste with time; I like them new or old.
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