Stretch Armstrong

I remember a toy my brother got for Christmas one year, not because he loved it so much, or because it was what he was begging for "just gotta have it mom" - no I remember it best because it was toy he let me play with too. Stretch Armstrong!
He was the best! No matter what you did to him, he always returned to his original formed muscle self. He didn't warp in the rain, break from dropping, and Stretch could withstand the worst punishment imagined. L. would take one arm and I would take another and L. would try to climb as many stairs up to the second floor before one of us gave out. His limit was 13 stairs - whatta record.
Our neighbor twins L & J. would race on their bikes down the street, moving farther and farther apart from each other as Stretch was suspended between them, doing his job, stretching to beat the band. L. would be on one sidewalk and J. would be on the other and Stretch Armstrong would be thinner than anything fully crossing the street. And we all stood back in a form of awe.
We thought it was the coolest thing.
Me opening a bedroom window on the second floor with L. outside on the ground level and I'd lower stretch by a string until L. grabbed him and then we'd see if Stretch could make it to the second floor stretch - He always did! Stretch was beyond belief. And even though these exercises were extreme, he never lost his integrity or his shape. he was ready for the next torturous creative idea another kid would have.
One day, my brother L. put Stretch in the freezer, as an experiment, to challenge the conditions of his stretchiness - what will happen now?
Well, the next stretching exercise was an eye-opening one for us. Fresh from the deep freeze, Stretch Armstrong, ruler of this physical stretch space of our neighborhood, simply snapped open - his arm came right off. And out oozed this maple-syrup looking gunk - none of us wanted to touch it, it was Stretch Armstrong blood, you know. It was gory, disgusting and disappointing. No duct tape was going to fix this problem, no stapling or gluing. Stretch Armstrong as we knew him as gone.
Though we replaced Stretch Armstrong, we never played with him in the reckless abandon we had done before, it didn't seem right to ignore the fact that there were physical boundaries that could not be overlooked. We stretched this new Stretch Armstrong, but not to test his limits, we knew what could break him and we didn't want to see it again.
Stretch Armstrong is present in my mind right now because I have felt the pull of the imperative this week. This week brought three funerals, and each circumstance brought a new way to pull, to stretch our time management, office management, program management, family management. Stretched to the limit, and I made some mistakes which I could not correct. I needed help (thank you so much Tom and Sue - really where would I have been without you?!) Many miles to travel for spiritual and emotional counsel to others. Finding the sheet music to the perfect key of The Lord's Prayer. (Dave needed it in D, not Ab or C or Eb - the ones I had. No he needed D. So D he got! Whew!) My husband and I also had an Advisory Board meeting this week, a very important one, not to be missed. Christmas applications. A meal for 25. And T. had two hockey practices. He also had review for Tenderfoot and Second class ranks for his scouting (and achieved them both). A. and N. have a Fall festival Friday and need costumes. Cub Scouts, brownies and Juniors added in.
The week was reduced to the imperatives: what absolutely has to be accomplished? What can wait? Will we die because we had cereal for dinner or left-overs for breakfast? And the laundry gave me the biggest freedom - everyone's closet had 7 matched outfits, they might not have been the favorites, but they were clean.
The stretchiness of my flexibility would have been like that Stretch Armstrong from the freezer if I didn't have the words of God protecting this week...Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip - He who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber or sleep.
The LORD watches over you - the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life. the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
With God in charge of all the areas ministry will bring our way, we can encountner the "Stretch Armstrong parts" and survive. None could have happened without the help of neighbors, friends, staff, congregation, family - and God had placed them all right there, right then, and lubricated the circumstances with His grace, His understanding.
Now, I may need a St. Bernard to come and find my ailing body beneath this mountain avalanche of dirty clothing - there's no avoiding it anymore. Tonight's job may be about 20 loads. Glad I have a Low Carb Monster in the fridge...I keep a spare exactly for these type of occasions.
Enjoy your evening as you walk with the Master and stretch your envelope of faith and devotion under His care and guidance.

Place and Time

Another trip to the emergency room this week (an endless revolving door it seems) this time for my youngest son N. During recess, he found himself solidly in the wrong place at the wrong time, underneath the basketball hoop waiting for a rebound. A taller boy with a little higher jump reached the ball before N. and came down hard with his elbow directly at N. eye. An accident, to be sure, but a gash, blood, pain. I was already planning on being at the school within half an hour, N. and K. had dentist appointments in the afternoon, released early from school. As I am travelling to get them both (two different schools) the nurse from N. school calls.

Now, this nurse and I have become friends, in constant contact last year because of the daily medical attention given for T. and his daily glucose checks, insulin shots and then the more intensive role as he became an insulin pump wearer. There are only a few people in my life that I spoke with every single day, and she was one of them. As T. finished his school year, it was the end of elementary school for him-he was now a middle school student. It was a natural progression, an expected one, and one which brought great results.

And one lonely one-the nurse and I didn't have that same daily contact anymore. She is exclusively assigned to the elementary school, not the middle school. We hadn't had a chance to talk ever since school began, which from a mom point of view is exactly what you want. Two of my children were at her assigned school and neither had as much broke a fever or pulled a hangnail.

A different time. A different place.

Hearing her voice on the phone didn't bring the instantaneous sense of fear that T. was in a blood sugar coma, or registered a glucose reading over 500. But I was confused why she needed me, none of my other children have needed her expertise, something must be wrong. While she is explaining the accident, the wound to prepare me so I won't freak out when I see this beautiful boy with a bloody eye, the actions she took to containing the bleeding, her reassurance and patient manner were still present.

A different child. A different situation.

Yet our connection had remained the same - I'm so glad she was there. Her attention helped stop the bleeding long enough to be able to fulfill this dentist appointment and then go the er for stitches. The men in my life seem to be collecting these "character scars", I'm done with the collection, thank you very much.

The wrong place at the wrong time...have you ever found yourself there? Flip the perspective - have you found yourself in the exact right place at the exact right time?

Are you there right now, with God leading you through events that only He knew about? You being the one that received the vented anger from someone else's wrong actions, but able to share compassion, understanding.. You helping repair the affects of a broken heart from someone else's carelessness or callousness. You picking up the pieces so carelessly strewn about. You correcting wrongs. You drawing up blueprints. You killing rats and cockroaches. You cleaning up the stained areas. You wiping away tears.

The place and time chosen by God, and He has prepared you for it by the things He has brought you through.

Esther's story in the Old Testament carries many messages, but none of them more poignant to me than these verses when she was facing a devestating situation requiring courage and strength. "Do not think that you will escape this evil within the king's house, more than anyone else, more than any other Jew. For if you do not engage right now, there will be safety and peace brought from another source, it will not be from you; but you and all you hold dear will be destroyed; and who knows that you have not been brought to this place in time for a such a time as this?" Esther 4:13-14 Have you found that God has brought you to this place, this time, step by step, experience by experience? Do you hear the echoed words through the centuries reaching out to you from the pages of the Living Word and holding you still in the presence of God? Do you know you are in your place for such a time as this? Lovingly prepared, specifically detailed, ready because God has been at work for a very long time. I praise God for His provision, for His character molding within my life, celebrating the person I was, the person I am and the person I will be because of God's providential will.

I'm at my mom's house tonight, with everyone tucked snug in their "grandma" beds and the coolness of the evening seeping in through a slightly opened window. As I try to close the frame (it's only 40 degrees outside tonight) I am captivated by the night sky. I love the stars, and I trace the different constellations everytime I can. The first one I always look for is Orion, with his three star belt. He's been with me forever it seems, on long walks when I needed a study break, casting romantic charm on a loving embrace, calming my moods when "I needed some air" to keep me from saying the things which might hurt or disappoint. I don't step outside to get away from other people, but frequently to collect my thoughts and speak with my God-given friend Orion. I don't feel alone or misunderstood when on a clear night I can find him, sometimes on his head, sometimes rotated around because of the motion of the night sky. The constant routine, this predictable placement of stars reminds me at the core of my understanding, "God knows, God has always been here, You have never been alone."

Starry night and sweet dreams.

Loving every minute!

Dave and I can't believe sometimes how blessed we are to have four children! We love being with them, making new friends with them and doing all all sorts of "kid things" with them. This week in the adult world was Christmas applications, full of meetings - Army and community, property bids, DHQ conferences, budget and statistical closings and openings - e.g lots of work, lots of people, numerous phone calls, a slew of details, not much laughing, horsing around or fun.

But to the kid world, this week was a bonanza!

Our family had two birthdays this past week, one for Nate(8) and one for Ty(12), 8 days apart. We are flying high on birthday cake, which counts as a healthy breakfast because it has eggs and butter and milk! Special Guest Day is a classroom visiting opportunity for Abby, Nate and Kate. Their chosen special guest comes to school for about 1 hour with them and they have their selected activities with them, share a poem they wrote just for them, show new projects in the works - and dad got a chance to see them all. Dave was each of their special guest, and the time set aside was in the beginning of the day (his busiest and most demanding part of any day). When he arrived at the office after these special day visits he was literally shining, so happy from the kids surprise that it was him stopping by, not me. It was like an innoculation to a demanding day - "Nothing bad can happen to me today, my boy thinks I'm as strong as Superman, he said so with this picture he drew of me and got an 'Awesome' from the teacher who asked me if I really did wear a cape." Three different Special Guest Day visits, three different days, what joy!

Abby's Girl Scout Troop was completing a float for the Homecoming Parade which was last night. She had a ball stapling and wrapping and getting everything ready with her new friends, and then last night being on the float and throwing candy at what turned out to be the entire town of Perkins Township. A perfect fall night, the streets were lined with row after row of parents, children, grandparents...it was so exciting! I think the parents, alumni and other adults have as much fun, if not more, than the high schoolers when it comes to Homecoming! It was a riot.

Soccer games this morning: Abby 2 goals and 1 period goalie, Nate 4 goals and 1 period goalie and Kate with 4 goals and a full body sacrifice to prevent a score from a kid who I swear was in 4th grade (but that's just this mom's point of view!) Tyler's hockey game this afternoon brought 2 goals 2 minutes in the penaly box, 2 assists and one amazing check - we're on cloud nine! From cheering on the sidelines in the cold crisp morning to cheering on the sidelines at the ice rink, I feel so proud to be their mom, watching them grow and do the best they can.

Kate just helped me with emergency first aid cause I just sliced my hand open in the stupidest of ways - after I threw away the top of the can from tomato soup, I threw more trash away and pressed it down to make more room - youch, what a fool! Around my entire pinky finger, ugh the blood. So I can't do dishes for a few days, was it worth it?!.

The sun is setting earlier each night, but I don't feel I have lost a minute of shine'cause my kids just light me up!

Living in the Spaces

Living in the Spaces

The printed words are
Kept within the margins:
Aligned together into sentences
Which carry deep thought and care.
They speak of love, true deep love.
And yet to focus on the spaces
Between each idea, each word
Giving these ideas room
To breathe,
To grow,
To attach –
The spaces for the words leave room for me
Leave room for thoughts of God,
Leave room for transformation:
Living in the spaces brings power.

The stars in the sky are
Caught within their constellations:
Aligned together into formations
Predictable and dependable.
They evoke constancy, reliability
Orion is always there for me, wearing his favorite belt.
And yet to focus on the spaces
Between each constellation, each star
Giving these stars room
To shine,
To connect,
To revolve –
The spaces for the stars leave room for me,
Leave room for thoughts of God,
Leave room for transformation:
Living in the spaces bring power.


Thank you LORD for your divinely prepared spaces which insulate all the activity I encounter. You reach to me through the day from these spaces, helping me practice Your presence. Thank you for who You are, the Creator and Sustainer of this divine space each day.

“I am convinced of this: I would have given up long ago if I had not seen the LORD of the hope in the land of the living.” Psalm 27:13

jsi

The Bulletin

Friday is always a day of pulling things together, every Friday the church building is my baby. We worship in a building which is 5 miles away from where we have our church office, so this other building, this place where we worship needs someone to step in, dust, adjust the temperature and such. Friday is the day I have set aside to make sure all the arrangements for Sunday’s worship is in order: clean building, current periodicals, Bibles, songbooks, trash taken from the chapel, all resources needed for the coming Sunday’s worship made available, Children’s Five lesson and object lessons in order.. My husband and I alternate weeks for preaching, this week is mine, so today I was spending extra time with my sermon in this freshly vacuumed chapel, relishing the restored order, the clean fragrance of Murphy’s Oil Soap, Woolite Carpet Shampoo and Lemon Pledge. Ahhh!

As you can imagine, this effort can take a few hours if you want it done properly (clean bathrooms are important, don’t forget). Straight. In line. It is a routine that is not menial or oppressive: it has been a restorative well in which I spend hours with God, talking to Him, listening to Him. No blaring music, no quick shortcuts to make it “less time or less of a burden”. You couldn’t wrestle this time away from me if you tried. (Granted, it would be pure heaven to have a janitor, someone dedicated to keeping things clean – but that reality is not in our deck of cards.)

My favorite task of all of these Friday things is preparing the bulletin: Scripture and sermon complemented by hymns which speak God’s character and doctrine, praise music for worship, prayer and celebration, chosen tunes for the hymns are the right ones – that the music fits with the chosen melody – no one wants a train wreck in congregational singing! And within the bulletin preparation this week that I was absolutely and completely wrapped by God’s presence.

The encounters of this week have been intense – and I cannot avoid the fact that I was quite angry because of the absolute void of remorse from those where very wrong. We had expressed our anger to a select few, the details were far to complicated to just blurt it all out. I thought I had released how I felt, that things were fine, until this bulletin preparation. The first item to correlate is the Call to Worship, quite formulaic: beginning with Psalm 150 and proceeding backwards, i.e.149,148, each successive week. It fits in well with our speaking calendar, and you just can’t go wrong when you walk in the Living Word of God. Last week was Psalm 84 so following the formula this week – Psalm 83. Simple.

My oldest daughter A. is the Call to Worship reader – nothing touches me deeper than hearing the Word of God spoken by the voice of a child. She can be very dramatic in her emphasis – she is spiritually “getting it” and it shows in her reading. I try to keep her in mind when choosing the verses of the Psalm (some psalms are quite long! And who wants to trip over words like Philistia and Zalmunna?!.) So I am reading Psalm 83, and found myself struck still.

Identifying with the Word of God, aligning it to this awful situation, God took this anger I hadn’t let go of and spoke clearly “I AM in charge; you cannot see their heart like I can. I have not been silent to them.” The Psalm written as a prayer it was aggressive, angry, calling God to do a mighty work. It convicted me of the anger I was feeling, by the end of the reading , my heart was praying “love them, please love them they need you so much.”
God works through the rough parts of life, the challenges and defenses, and reminds us as we draw close to Him, He in turn draws close to us. So, as I leave the chapel, neat and tidy, paperwork in its place, I smooth out the bulletin and breathe thank you to God who carries me tenderly.
I know no one will be alerted that anything has happened as this week’s service begins with Psalm 82. But the seismograph of my heart rejoices that God removes burdens from our soul.

In Mint Condition

These past 9 weeks have carried more than Sunday and Wednesday worship meetings. We have been in a large variety of worship, some planned and executyed by us, many by others. All of the meetings have been well prepared, unified in theme, using multi-media opportunities with very good speakers. So much time has been dedicated into bringing together so many of these worship avenues, many miles travelled, publishers, year long wait list for itinerary and schedules...

...and my deepest blessing has been the reading of God's Word in each occassion.


Opening my Bible brings a fragrance to my day.
I am thirsty, so thirsty for what God has to say.
I'm not embarrassed: I haven't heard everything the preachers have said (sorry Dave)
But I have heard God speaking so clearly.
The deepest blessing has been His Word, His Living Word
Speaking to my heart, unmistakable.

Mint Condition

Pages that are worn, torn;
Soft, pliable leather disclosing
Pressure marks, stress marks:
The journey of my life.
Tracks of tears upon thin onion paper -
The ridges, the uneven texture
Left in their wake.
These pages are not ruined-
These pages are in mint condition,
They are priceless.

This page here, a broken heart.
Another one, a love restored.
A grief filled week.
A change of heart.
I have never been more sorry.
Forgiveness.
I do.
Courage.
I AM.
Be holy.
Broken communication.
Passion.
Anger.
Patience.
A birth, a death, the cycle of life.
Complete, don't compete.
Aha...illumination.
Transformation.
Integrity.
Growing more fruit.
Pruning bad habits.
These pages are in mint condition,
They are priceless.

These pages carry the evidence:
Taking, breaking a heart of stone
Providing open heart surgery
On the patient.
Recovery found
Within the pages of your precious Word.
These pages are in mint condition,
They are priceless.

Not dusty pages.
Not brand new pages,
Still stuck together
From its original printing day.
No, look closely and see them
Filled with dates
From the calendar of my heart,
Names used generously:
Faces from the past,
Dreams of the future.
Their voices call to me,
But they are not the voice I long to hear...

Speak to me Lord, through Your Word
From my Bible, in mint condition.

Ali Babba and His Treasure Cave

Everyone needs a sick day. Yesterday was a sick day for my youngest son N. (8 on Sunday) who has had a penchant for jumping off of all things higher than 4 feet. In one of his jumping escapades recently, he lost his shoe (those pesky. slippery things!) and landed on his unprotected foot flat. He didn't twist his ankle or show signs of a broken bone, but pain was present. So yesterday, instead of heading to the school bus, he and I visited the ER for xrays and examination...what a nice morning we had (if you look past the pain thing!) Nothing broken, but a deep bruise which will be a pain for a few days.
Waiting for our nurse, we watched It's The Race of Your Life Charlie Brown on a small tv and I have to admit that I had forgotten that my kiddos haven't seen these gentle predictable stories like I have. When I was young there were only 5 channels (2 were PBS) and it was a special night to have cartoons. My children have cartoon access so easily these days, but many of the cable cartoons I don't like and we don't watch. (I find I say no more than I say yes, but the kids know the reasons why I say yes, so they begin evaluating themselves. And I will always say yes to Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry!) But Charlie Brown, there's a guy with a story. Boy in lap, arms embraced we sat through what could have been an excruciating ER wait oblivious to the world. N. opened up to me in a way he hasn't done in a while, just because he could feel I was thoroughly focused on him. We giggled at jokes, talked about friends, he shared what he expected for his birthday, talked about his new teacher, he told me a few things he's been worried about - I felt like I was Ali Babba and had said "Open Sesame" and the cave with ultimate treasure was discovered.
He wasn't competing with his younger and older brothers and sisters, angry about losing a game(again), correcting anyone's obvious faux pas about the true colors of the characters of the Power Rangers or how many legs a centipede really does have. He was the funny, observant, sharp-witted thoughtful boy that I seem to see so easily. I have learned more about the confusing and sometimes unknowable species known as grown men from the life of insight I have gained from my young boys. I don't want it to sound demeaning, I feel its been an act of grace from God to see the development of the male mind - it contains features that can be so foreign to a female such as myself!
After the ER visit we shared a happy meal and off to school for him. The hours that I lost were extremely inconvenient and totally restructured my day: I may not be able to finish some of this until Tuesday. But I wouldn't dream of passing up the Cave of Treasures for anything in the world. I feel so rich and blessed...
And no amount of hopeful thought pattern is going to change the reality that is plain and clear...I'm sick as a dog and there is no sick day for mom. I've been navigating these past 9 days with a head cold the size of Brazil doing the mambo and cha cha in my head. Christmas is coming and the corps responsibilities are getting demanding, kettles is just around the corner. Advisory Board meetings, (6:30 a.m.) and this is my Sunday to preach, and I need a voice to be able to speak that doesn't sound like its trapped in an airplane hanger. Since the weather has turned cold there are more people who need utility assistance, the community needs my husband's and my presence more than before especially in light of court appearances - there isn't a break . So I'll be popping Alka Seltzer cold medicine, Halls Methalyptus and hot tea and chicken soup - what a cocktail!
Enjoy your day today!

The Metronome

I'm sitting in our study and it shares a wall with our front room, "my pretty room." It's a small, informal version of a parlor. No food is permitted in mom's pretty room. You're not allowed to dump your coat or book bag there. No shoes will be left there, no toy remains in the pretty room. Its a collected space in the front of the house that is carefully managed. A quiet spot, my thinking spot, a sacred praying spot with very few things - a favorite Bible, letters, french horn, music stand, couch, chair, coffee table victrola and piano.
The piano is the largest piece of furniture there and it gets alot of attention. Right now A. is seated on the bench, working through a lesson piece, struggling with her reminder of the metronome, as I comiserate with her on the other side of the wall.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
"This is the tempo, play within these boundaries," is speaks steadily.
Annoyingly.
It has frustrated her to tears because without the boundaries, she feels her music is so much more beautiful (and easier to play!)

"I hate this metronome...it always tells me I'm wrong," she moans.
"You can do it, try a little slower."
"Why do rules make everything hard?"

Why indeed.

Rules and boundaries are important to our lives and God has placed some very striking ones in place for us. Not to kill our fun but to protect and nurture His character in us. Paul guides in Colossians 3 about the matters of holy living. "Since then, you have been raised with Christ set your hearts on things above, not on this world. Set your minds on things above." Think about God's influence on your life. Think about how God is working through your life situation. Your circumstance. How would God be glorified through what yoyu would say or do? Colossians 3 further advises to take off terrible habits and hurtful practices - anger, rage, lying, slander.

Yet the promise comes next...

The guardrails are placed over a believers heart and sinful actions are weeded out, removed. But we are not left naked, vulnerable, exposed. The boundaries have a promise to fulfill.

Verse 12 "Therefore, as God's chosen people, HOLY and dearly loved, clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Cover it all with love."

God has a closet full of appropriate spiritual clothes for us to wear, if we dare to trust Him to empower us to be able to do it. Live within the boundaries of Scripture - the free and dynamic life is captured within the boundaries of living with His compassion, His humility, His Holy character.

Set your heart on things above - Lord make us holy. Empower us with the spiritual stamina it takes to practice, practice, practice.




The Metronome

Fingers moving, hands together
Slowly getting faster.
Right hand alone, that sounds fine.
But add the left - disaster.
Layered within the key of Bb
“Hmmm…this etude feels like combat.”
Starting, stopping, halting : missed my Eb
All to the tick of the metronome.

Left.
Left.
Left, right, left.
I left my wife and forty eight kids
Home in the kitchen
Making a sandwich
I left.
Left.
Left, right, left…

“But its too hard, I just can’t do it
I tell you its impossible!
I’ll never get these rhythms straight,
My arms, they’re not octave crossable.
There’s too many notes, too much to do
I could cover this with crazy glue
And mail it off to Timbuktu with that
Crummy, bummy, such a dummy hated metronome!”

Left.
Left.
Left right left.
I left my wife and forty eight kids
Home in the kitchen
With no gingerbread
Left.
Left.
I Left, right left…

“Must I work to keep it steady?
If I don’t practice, who will know?
It never sounds like music when
I have to keep it fast or slow?
Music sounds best when its free
Allowed to be all it can be
I’m not alone, it’s not just me
Who hates that pesky metronome.”

Left.
Left.
Left, right, left.
I left my wife and forty eight kids
Home in the kitchen
Doing the dishes
I left.
Left.
Left, right, left…

Love Has the Power

This is a neat simple science project, which can be used for a Children’s five or youth illustration.  Easy as 1,2,3 all you need is 3 days of waiting, 2 chicken eggs and a large glass of white vinegar (man, I’m hearing Christmas music in my head…I want five golden rings!)

Allow three days from beginning to end.
Place one chicken egg, fresh not boiled, and submerge it in a glass of white vinegar.  Retain the additional egg for comparison.
You should be able to see through the glass to view the contents.  Place in a careful spot where it won’t be bothered, heated or frozen.  Do not place in the refrigerator.  Sitting on a counter is fine.
Allow the egg to remain within the glass for three days.
On the third day, compare the two eggs, egg without vinegar bath has hard, inflexible shell.  Egg with vinegar bath is inflated, larger, rubbery, flexible, squeezable.  

But don’t squeeze too hard – both eggs are fragile.  If you are a dramatic sort, you could show how easily both eggs can be broken.

Moral – Life is fragile, love is gentle but powerful

The vinegar slowly but gently acts as an abrasive on the shell of the egg, removing the hard spots, the thicknesses, the brittle places and creates a flexible strength which still contains the contents.
And egg, a heart; vinegar – God’s love

Love is like that in our hearts – it smooths out the rough patches, removes grudges, slowly devours anger and hurt and brings trust and forgiveness.  It takes away the brittleness and replaces it with flexibility

I Corinthians 13:4-7, “Love is patient, love is kind.It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.”

Is there someone in your life who needs a Divine helping of love, a love that comes from the unconditional well of grace and mercy?  Take them to the well, draw it out and drink with them.  God’s love never fails!

Love Has The Power

Brittle hearts, brittle lives,
Immovable.
Fractured trust, blatant lies,
Unproveable.
Lives broken down because of fear and pride,
Isolated and lonely, huddled inside
Of a place they’ve created for shelter – security
And cynically stated, “ I’m safe in maturity.
I don’t need anyone, people bring pain…
I’m fine and complete, there is nothing to gain
From a newness, a friendship, a bothersome try
Hello is useless, it always leads to goodbye.”

“Will anyone ever come and look for me?
Will anyone stop avoiding, rejecting me?
I need something more,
Can you tell me there’s more
To this life, this today, this empty right now?
I’m searching for something, to find it, uncertain how.
A solution to this painful, silent ache, has to be
Because me is so much lonelier than we.”

Love has the power you need.

Generous hearts, caring lives –
We have to be moveable.
Restored trust, forgiven lies –
Love is tangible, proveable.
Love has the power to make fragile parts flexible;
Love has the power to make honest trust accessible.
Love has the power to fills in the cracks
Of the fissures in your heart, where there are visible tracks –
Someone has walked carelessly all over your heart.
There is love for you, tender love, God knows every part
Of the distance and actions that kept you away:
God looks in you and sees treasure and pleasure today.

God’s love has the power you need.

jsi

Showdown at the OK Coral

Showdown at the O.K. Coral

Well, its official, the teacher strike is over; what a mess!  This has been a trip for over a  year now.  The teachers announced at this time last year that there would be a strike if negotiation was not commenced.  They even said it would be on the first day of school.  We have only lived here 15 months, but I heard them say that then, I remembered it, I knew it was an important part of the horizon of planning, but obviously many on our education board did not.  They seemed aghast, surprised at the audacity that the teacher’s union would even think about action, about strike.

And the truth of the matter was, no one was listening to anyone.  Both sides failed in their very public adventure of  ”rightness”.  Everyone kept their own agenda, own concerns, disregarding anyone and everyone.

The adults in this matter may have had the power, but they failed in the deepest level of education – they all abandoned the children.  Its so frustrating to sit and watch grown adults and management facilities fail at the most important lesson taught to children – how to communicate.  There is a combination of pressure and release with compromise.  Concession when wrong is influential.  Trust and follow-through are critical to nurturing trust and follow-though.  Power is a privilege and brings obligation and responsibility.

I did send my children to school for day 1 and 2, in good faith that the substitutes and security and planning measures were enforced to the best care for the children.  Police investigation and background checks proved that this was naïve and foolish.  The background checks that were used in hiring were unbelievably lax, not wide in scope, and certainly not complying with the typical check which is used for the educational system.  After 8 firings and 18 releases of this temporary workforce on day 2 because of terrible indiscretion, my children did not return to school.  And would not return until I had my pre-scheduled teacher in each of their four classrooms.

I drew a line in the sand.  

And as I stood back from that line, I noticed my hands were shaking and slightly sweaty.  “What have I done?  This has the potential of lasting until Christmas.”  I was not on strike, I was not going without my salary or any union supplement; I was not arguing with a brick wall the way each side was; I didn’t present a full-fledged home schooling proposal and curriculum for my four.  Yet still I was nervous.

I was nervous because my children truly enjoy school, and mom drawing a line in the sand was taking away an order and process to their world.  Mom got hot and now they had to pay.  And the explanation given to them needed to be fairly vague – the indiscretions which led to the uproar for many parents was the criminally sexual and stalking nature.  “There are people in the world who don’t protect kids the same way I do,” were my words to my 6 year old.  But my nearly 12 year old reads the paper, he knows the real thing.  And I asked him please not talk about it with the young ones, not at dinner, just with the parents.  (He felt so encouraged to be considered “an adult” in this matter)  Someone else’s careless decisions had placed our precious treasures in dangers path, and provided a structured place and time to fuel that danger.  

There are many things I need to teach my children, and I only have a short time to be able to do it, but this type of knowledge carries a darkness with it, and it pains me to know they will be aware of it someday.  The depth of sin which is present in this world is powerful – it claims many people and rules their hearts.  It is a reality of our society, it is present in my town.  But why does it have to be knowledge kids get in elementary school?

In Jessieland, where all things are rosy and positive, caring, generous and compassionate, they would never need to encounter it.  But we don’t live in Jessieland (to my dismay) and I need to be walking with them, hand in hand, through the darkness, and steps at a time defining that darkness.

I pray a blessing on them each day as they leave for school, “The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn His face toward you and give you peace.”  Number 6:25  Be with them every step of their day, Lord.

Walking through a dirty world in white, not avoiding the dirt but knowing that God has sealed us with a “scotch guard” to stains the dirt could make – praise God for His son Jesus and His redeeming sacrifice.

For the Record

For the Record

Quotations and words of wisdom from this weekend

“I wouldn’t want to be a worm on this hook.”  Kiley, at the fishing spot
“Does the tooth fairy come when you are camping?”  Kate with a tooth hanging by a thread
“Your hair looks so pretty in the sunset, mom”  Nathan ( a future romantic)
“If you slip in the showerhouse on the wet floor, you could sue the owners.”  Tyler (future lawyer)
“You attend OSU for a few years, but you play in the band for life.”  OSU Marching Band alumni, 90 years old, preparing to march in Sept. 2 game
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion “Your God reigns.”  Isaiah 52:7
“Do you really need cheese in a grilled cheese sandwich?”  Caleb at campfire
“You can tell a lot about a person by examining their ipod playlist.  Who they are, happy, sad, aggravated, mad, carefree…its all there.”  Jessie examining ipod
“Boys are all so weird!”  Erica from How to Eat Fried Worms
“No doubt about it, that’s a water moccasin.  Fishing is done, right now.”  Jim at Indian                                                             Lake
“The only things you need in a tool box are a hammer, a Philips screwdriver, a flat head screwdriver, WD40 and duct tape.  Everything that’s broken will get fixed or hid by all these things.  What more could you need?”  Ron at campsite
“Do people really arrange marriages for girls at age 10??  Abby, age 9
“Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these?  He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls them each by name.  Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.”  Isaiah 40:26
“Strong men take care of themselves.  Stronger men take care of others.”  Ben, the father bull from Barnyard
“Who is Ernesto and why is everyone mad at him?”  Abby, with rainslicker and umbrella
“Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, dead at 44 from a deep sea accident with adult sting ray during filming.”  All Irwins around the world mourn at his passing.
“Jesus bids us shine with a clear pure light, like a little candle burning in the night;  in the world is darkness, so we must shine you in your small corner and I in mine.”  Red songbook #841
“I never fall asleep in these kinds of chairs…they are too uncomfortable for snoozing…zzzzzzz”  Dave at campfire
“We are free to be at peace with ourselves and others, and also with nature.”  Thomas Merton
“Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth, love one another deeply.  I Peter 1:22
“I underestimated the amount I would change just because I loved someone so much.”  Tammy on marriage
Have you not seen?  Have you not heard?  The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary and His understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”  Isaiah 40:28-29

Wishing you a day full of joy

In the Fire

One of the things I miss most about a PA house we lived in was the ability to have a fire circle. It had started being a mistake, a children's pool which stayed too long in one place and the grass beneath burned out, wouldn't grow back. (My fault) So instead of a glaring mistake, we chose a glaring solution - a fire circle. 20 cinderblocks and we had perfection - our own firecircle. We were able to burn everyday without permit, and frequently when one of us got home before the other, one thoughtful chore was to prepare the ring for the evening fire. Some in the winter (not many) mostly in the other 3 seasons, but joy remembered then. Sitting in the evening with neighbors, children, or as a chance for couple time for the two of us, this fire circle touched on something in common for us - not that we are pyromaniacs, but we enjoy a good controlled burn. N. taught himself to ride a 2 wheeler bike by firelight. A. sang her first solo, T. crafted his story-teller imagination. K. learned the art of marshmallow toasting. Setting it up to last as long as needed - a 4 hour fire is constructed differently than a 1 hour fire.
This year our summer camping has included several fires, and I'm chopping wood today for this weekend. Burn, baby, burn.

"God reveals deep and hidden things; He knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells within Him." Daniel 2:22

"Weren't there three men that werre tied up and threw into the fire?" " Yes," the reply. "Look I see four men walking around in the fire, unbound and unharmed, and the forth looks like a son of the gods."
Daniel 3:24-25

In the Fire

“Another log?” A simple request.
“Yes, thank you. You’re the best!”
The fire grows and radiates heat,
Claiming this new fuel, providing retreat.
Burning for hours, it fends off the dark -
The cold, the unseen, undefined and stark
Maintaining glowing coals with their light and heat.
Closer to the fire we sit, safe, complete.

But within that fire, the action is great
In the fire, the movement changes its rate.
The fire is alive, pulsing with power,
Consuming the wood there, intent to devour
“Watch out, be careful, protect yourself there;
Keep your distance, even farther, always beware.”
Too close to the fire will be a mistake
Stay away, error brings pain, it won’t be fake.”

God is still in the fire

Life is messy – quite messy no doubt,
Hearts looking for cover, a simple way out
Of the mess of the problems bad choices have brought.
Out of the conflicts, the wrongness of thought.
“It feels all consuming, it’s hot inside here,
To confront, to correct – the problems are too near!
I must get away, I’m not needed for this!”
The knots are too tight – I just want to reminisce.”

God is still in the fire

Reminisce of a simpler time, long ago.
Protection was there, it was easy and slow.
I could think my own thoughts, no interruptions there.
All things were good, and right and fair.
People meant what they said, they said what they meant.
Trust was given, received, returned – it was cement.
Life was easy, small problems, simple solutions
Avoiding the realm of pain and confusion.

God is still in the fire

But God doesn’t stay away from the knots tightly bound,
He challenges me to step into this fire, look around.
“These knots, they’re not yours, but untie them we may.
They need our attention, yours and Mine, walk this way.
Walk in white, be pure as I call you to be.
Love me with undivided heart, you will see
That I AM in the fire, even now,
I do not abandon a conflict, I vow
To make things right, I AM here, plain to see
And I call you and move you to work patiently.

I AM still in the fire.

The power to confront, and still dignity give –
God is still in the fire.
The power to correct, a right way to live –
God is still in the fire.
“What are you gonna do about it?” God says earnestly -
“Come here, step into the fire with Me.
Set your mind on things above-
Let your conduct be worthy of Christ’s love –
You’re not alone in here, we are hand in glove.
I AM still in the fire.”

Many Hands Make Light Work

Many Hands Make Light Work

When I keep the tv on I usually enjoy a cooking channel, or PBS with greats such as Julia Child. Always some new task to be able to learn – different ways to slice a mango, how to make an angel food cake, techniques for a chewy cookie, best parings for meat and vegetables. I love it! (And if that makes me a dweeb, then I’m guilty as charged) I’m a foodie! But there is one show which just makes me sit down with my calculator and compute. $40.00 a day with Rachel Ray. Her objective is to show how affordable international travel can be, how a person can spend a measly $40.00 a day and have beautiful, filling, exquisite, gourmet banquet of food from so many parts of the world.
“$40.00 a day, my foot…I can feed my family of 6 breakfast, lunch and dinner with a bedtime snack for less than $15. That’s’ the show I want – Budget Gourmet – stretch that dollar and make it last; have your dinner , healthy and fast.”

I’ve enjoyed cooking since I was a young girl, and when I got to 7th grade, I became the dinner person for the house. Home from school, homework and dinner – my brother got other chores. Sometimes we’d have a good meal, sometimes it was more done than it should be, sometimes underdone and needed more expert attention – it was truly Culinary Chemistry. But I developed a regular list of menus, things we liked, tried and true meals to rely upon. Spaghetti and meatballs, eggs over easy and hashbrowns, baked chicken and rice, stuffed peppers. Since my brother was diabetic, there were specific ways to prepare the food, things to avoid, eliminate, other things to help include to make dinner satisfying and healthy.

When I’d have dinner at a friend’s house, I found myself swapping recipes with their mom and dad. At a large gathering, I’d be talking with the caterer, “How did you do this? Mine always gets lumpy, yours is perfect.” Me and grandmas of all shapes and sizes were like peas in a pod, talking and sharing about the preparation of food. My cookbook is a hodge podge of family, friends, neighbors, aunts, uncles, grandparents. There are regional delicacies we make and we have though we don’t live near there anymore _ pierogies – and holiday staples which help us celebrate and remember – latkes – and standards which are comforting – shepherd’s pie. (that’s for dinner tonight.)

I make an awesome cheesecake (and regretfully I have a figure that shows it! I have been perfecting more eggplant terrines and vegetable casseroles and the kids are enjoying a larger variety of veggies, more than their standards of broccoli/corn/carrots/green beans/cauliflower. ) The day I can persuade them to eat a tomato I will be proclaiming the veggie cheer with the loudest of voices! Every meal has a salad, without question, just no ‘maters on the plate. Oh well, high hopes for better days.

Here are some pictures of kitchen help…yeah the kids cook with me. T.A.N. K. all have their jobs and stations. No one is jumping up and down with enthusiasm for the dishwashing job while we are cooking, but its essential to a working kitchen – I just may need that pot again! K. is not qualified for the paring knife yet, but someday soon. She is an awesome potato peeler/carrot scrubber/salad maker. And the minimal mess they could make is clean-up-able in less than four minutes (Except for N. and his cake batter-helicopter impression. I was cleaning that off the ceiling the next day even.) They’ve been developing the pancake flip, the eggshell separation, the brulee of crème brulee (our favorite dessert), the dynamics of meringue, the variety of stir fry, the layers of lasagna, the differences between sauté and braising – its so exciting!. And they love the food they make!

Now I just need to help A. with her coffee preparation, and give her some more tips about keeping the grounds out of the brew.
Dinner’s cooking and my mouth is watering, so gotta go!

Sweetness

“Mom, I’m 42.” The voice was not familiar to me, but the information set off the alarm bells as if it was said straight to me. An afternoon away had provided our family with a chance to swim in Lake Erie at a sand beach (not easy to find in Northwest OH, most of the beaches are pebble or just plain rocks. Rough on the tender toes!) His voice, and message, caught my attention immediately. To the seat directly next to us, this mom reached into her cooler and delivered the necessary elements – juice and crackers. A diabetic child in the family…I could relate.
Earlier in the morning, Ty’s glucose level had been in the 40s as well. Everything gets put on hold and delayed as we attend to it. Quite low, he needs something sweet and something with protein. Ty has been a Type I diabetic since kindergarten and his diagnoses felt like a door got slammed on our fingers, but it was also a door opening. It opened a door to an incredible level of family health.
Now they don’t eat as many vegetables as I want them to, and they desire more twinkies than I’m going to allow, but I am pleased with my kid’s acclimation with fruit and veggies and that they’ll even let me put them on their pizza!
Our afternoon with this new friend found a chance to speak to someone “who knows” without explanation – the all night anxiety because of a accidental double injection and hourly blood checks, the rapid weight loss and unexplained weight gain which happens with insulin, the expense which happens at the grocery store when “fun food” may be more affordable but nutritionally catastrophic to a diabetic, the family adjustment which happens with feeding everyone on a diabetic diet, the penalty of an inaccurate injection, the vocabulary of ‘capillaries’ ‘A1C’ and ‘DKN’.
And we were each having our preparation session for when our diabetic boys returned to school next week. We know how sweet of disposition the boys can have, but it’s the sweetness of their blood which can drive any school official bananas! There’s so much to get ready, and truthfully, I don’t want to see them go. I know there are some who identify with me – I love getting my kids back with me for the summer. Sure it’s a hassle of time, energy and patience (let alone cleanliness and order) and any work I get accomplished comes with interruptions, but it’s a joy to me to have my children with me. Especially when it comes to helping Ty manage his diabetes. The food he eats, the exercise he gets, I know all of it. When school starts, it will be a nurse and teachers who help keep an eye of all these details, and they are responsible for so many more young ones as well.
January saw a realm of freedom for my son with the beginning of use of an insulin pump, and he has loved it since day 1. It has provided him an opportunity of discretion and control he has craved, and permitted for time fluctuations for meals and insulin delivery. It also saw an element of expertise and power for him – none of the school nurses or teachers or front office workers had ever seen or dealt with a pump before. Ty was the expert, they took their cues from him. Yesterday’s orientation has only bolstered his confidence with the new procedures he will encounter at his middle school. I love that they are excited about school and the learning environment waiting for them there.
Now, if I could only keep him from growing out of his shoes we’ll be in business. (The boy is now a ½ size larger than mine and isn’t a teenager yet. HELP)

A Divine Scope of Hope

A Divine Scope of Hope

I can’t shake it, I just feel blue.  Everyone in the family is healthy (as well as can be expected), wealthy (but then again, could always use a few more dollars, who wouldn’t?!.) and wise (some are more feather-headed than others, but that comes with the territory!)  My dearheart greets me with a kiss, sweet and affectionate, and talks with me plainly and earnestly.  Yet, I feel like I’ve been encountering bad news from every side, pressing in on my spirit, suffocating me, not releasing a situation or event before another wave crashes in, submerging my heart again.

It’s not a loss of self esteem or an undefined depression, it’s not related to hormonal changes or severe criticism but it is something which has lasted longer than usual.  Not dissolved into tears, or explosively angry, not openly pessimistic but I have detected a cynicism which is not welcome by me.   Everyone has their days, you know the ones, when you don’t quite feel like yourself.  You are able to follow through the motions of your obligations and responsibilities, but there is a lower level of passion or enthusiasm connected with what you do.  They are generally unbelievably brief for me, rarely if ever lasting more than ½ a day, but this is different.

Like Christopher Robin leafing through his storybook following the forewarning of a storm, I sing with him and Winnie the Pooh, “I’m just a little black rain cloud…”

Teachers on strike as of August 28.  The newspaper (man do I hate the newspaper anymore!) alerting us of our school administration’s negotiation breakdown with the teacher’s contract.  Strike announced since been without a teacher’s contract for a year and a freeze on the contract for three years prior.  Alert notice taken and substitutes put on call for such planned strike to take effect on school day #1.  Whattamess!  And these entities have spent the last 6 weeks refusing to talk with each other because of what they “might say” so they have spent this precious summer avoiding the important stuff of contract talks on listing agenda which will be appropriate or inappropriate to talk about.

Burial of three area servicemen who sacrificed their lives in this current war, none of them over the age of 25.  Their honor and duty has preserved my freedom - yet their time on earth was far too short, this area missing the impact of their leadership and character.

It’s a challenge to be the vein of encouragement for such a small congregation.  More people in church has its own level of encouragement.

An area youth hockey coach has been arraigned for child pornography and internet solicitation of a minor.  Several counts.  Several months in a researched sting.  He would have been my son’s coach one day in the future.

I have a heavy heart for our community and for our contact in it.  When pouring ourselves into the vessel of reaching and needy lives, I need a divine scope of hope.  Echoing the words of the psalmist David, Psalm 27:13, I say with him, “I am convinced of this - I would have given up long ago if I had not seen the Lord of hope in the land of the living.”

A divine dose of hope.  A protection from the Holy Spirit.  An inspired and loving guidance – holy hearts are requesting your strength, Lord.  Imbue us with Your hope.

The Melody

The Melody

It wraps around my heart
With silky thread,
Clinging, ever so slightly.
This melody

It spins around my memory,
Capturing brief glimpses
Of what was,
This sentimental and melancholy melody.

It moves silently,
Yet arrives and defines
Today - what is,
This impassioned and lively melody.

Its gossamer boundaries
Clouding, but not preventing my view of
What has not yet come to pass,
This hopeful yet tentative melody.

This melody from the soul,
Everywhere I turn it
Captures my attention.

If I want to be anybody,
The someone God intended;
If I’m going to be
Encapsulated within His will
I need to stay awake and pay attention.

Pay attention to this rhythm
Pay attention to this meter
Pay attention to this conversation
Of give and take,
This melody,
This blessed and sacred melody
Christ in me – the hope of glory.

jsi

Secret keepers

There are many times in our lives we find ourselves being secret keepers. For friends. Relatives. Congregation. It is an awesome responsibility to be one who carries a secret. You know the part, not to blab! There are all kinds of secrets, and sometimes we are entrusted with the opportunities to carry a burden with someone. To be a silent support, "I know that you know that I know" or to be a release valve of confidence to help provide encouragement and courage for another who will need to share their dreaded secret. Sometimes, its a secret keeping that has a time limit - "I won't say anything until this appointed time, and if you don't I will". Sometimes our secrets are incredible, some are discouraging, but all of them require us to examine ourselves and see, what do we become when we carry a secret?
Are you someone who just can't hold it in - "Don't tell me, I can't keep it", or are you able to "put it in the vault?" Are you like a little gnat fly, buzzing aound, 'I know something I can't tell" or are you a tower of strength and security?
Some secrets I can't keep - my husband always knows what he is going to get for Christmas, always, not because he found it, but because I told him. When I knew I was pregnant, it wasn't information I could keep to myself because it was so present in my eyes (tears and joy). Confidential matters need confidential hearts, not loose lips.
How are you as a secret keeper?




I
have
a secret
I can’t tell ,
Yet as time goes
I cannot help but dwell
On the hidden, unexposed
Truth that I know. It sits and
It multiplies strength as it grows.
Try to forget it, no thing brings peace!
To tell just one heart, this clamoring may cease.
But what of this unadvertised, subterranean truth
If I release private thoughts, could it be so uncouth?
To have a someone, a trusted confidant and friend help
Share the burden, to protect and defend this classified, covert
Serendipitous thing. What could I do? Who could I bring to this
Circle of confidence, trusted, subdued, who will be just as careful and
Strong and true? Who is this hero, to share, strength renew – it is you?!.

whew

The Creation of Adam

“The Creation of Adam” by artist Michaelangelo Buonarroti
This is one of the panels depicting the Genesis creation account painted in fresco in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by Michaelangelo. One of the most famous portraits in Western art, this view is centered upon two hands – to the right the hand of God and to the left the hand of Adam. Inspired by the medieval hymn called Veni, Creator Spiritus, Michaelangelo painted this from the lyrics, asking the “finger of the paternal right hand to give the faithful speech, love and strength.”
This panel is an artistic rendering of the Scripture, not literal, but this rendering has very powerful and symbolic meanings. But it is the hands that capture me, inspire me, hold me. The focal point of the entire panel is the near contact between the fingers of the Creator God and those of Adam. God’s reaching hand – strong, vibrant, active, muscular. Adam’s inanimate hand – weak, not alive, inactive, limp.
There are several inches between these two hands, when examining up close to the surface of the ceiling fresco, but the visual perspective a person receives when examining from the floor is that the distance is minute, miniscule, a split hair apart.
It takes my breath away to contemplate God’s creative action.
Ruach. The breath of God.
Ruach – the creative breath of God, imparted to man, his creation made in His image.“God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created them.” Genesis 1:27.
“The LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostril the breath of life. (ruach). Genesis 2:7
As I transfer myself into the portrait in Adam’s place, God reaching down to me with strength and I reach up to him with weakness I comprehend my inadequacy. Anything I am able to do I because of ruach, God’s breath of life in me. My reaching to Him is inadequate, unable to bridge the full distance. But He reaches to me, covering the distance, crossing the line of separation, giving me life daily. Reaching me, finding me, saving me, keeping me. Ruach, His breath in me, transmitting His character to me, a believer who reaches for Him. I cannot be like Him without His creative action in me.
Lord, breathe in my life, transform my heart, purify my intentions, make me holy.
Just breathe.

Memories of the heart

Memory makers on vacation
Remembering everything we needed and leaving at 5:00 a.m.
Making the trip from Ohio to Maine in 1 day - first time that has happened in more than a decade!  When you don't have diapers to change, it makes such a difference. 
Fitting in a smaller size summer clothes...sorry, I need to go clothes shopping, be back later!
Swimsuits everyday, ocean and pool
Getting help with sunscreen from youngest daughter and then having crazy sunburn from spots she missed.
Sunsets on the beach with the love of my life...what did I ever do to deserve a man like him?
Painting watercolors on the beach
Old friendships revitalized, new friendships kindled
No newspapers from home
Body surfing the perfect wave
Being a mermaid on the beach, buried in sand
Sand bocce
Finishing one knitting project and beginning another - new yarn!
All the clawmeat from the lobster in one movement - it was a thing of beauty!
Tickets for Boston Red Sox/Cleveland Indians game Monday night - close game Indians ahead through the 9th and a walk off homerun from the best in the game David Ortiz!  Whattagame!
Cookie Pizza
Four part harmony congregational singing - and not being the loudest voice
Holding hands with my 11 year old son, so inspired by the man he will be.
Soccer hair for the girls, no new hair style for five days
Everyone's blond highlights make my gorgeous brunetteness look even more out of place
Happy exhaustion at the end of each day
Blue ribbon at the Monmouth Fair for 32' 4" frying pan toss - a thing of beauty
Five U2 recordings from the library for the trip - like they were singing just for me
Two perfect parking spaces in lower Manhatten - and you thought they were extinct!
Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island visit with ferry ride to the islands
Empire State building visit and being scared to death by King Kong
The perfect New York hot dog
Yankees loss
School clothes for the whole gang
A fully loaded digital camera memory card, a smile on my face and a mountain of laundry - how do I let this happen to me everytime?  And the truth is in the cliche - there is no place like home.

The natives are restless

We live ½ mile away from the township schools – one of the elementary, the middle and high school.  They are positioned very close to each, sort of like the north-south-east sections of a compass.  And unifying them all is the large area of prepared turf used for the soccer, baseball, track and football fields.  And the stadium and bleachers bring it all together in a dramatic central focal point.  Here is where the action has been all summer, constantly busy with different teams, concerts, festivals, outside competitions.  It seems as busy as if there are still full classes going on and the full student body is on campus, even though it has been summer break.
And now is the preparation for the sacred time of OH high school rituals – football camp and marching band practice.  We live close enough that in the early evening, we get serenaded by the high school band – quite good by the way.  The music program in our neck of the woods is very carefully developed and nurtured for teenage participation in the large marching band during the high school years.
     Were you ever in marching band in high school?  I must say – I love marching band!  I watch most college football games to get a glimpse of the band, love the halftime shows, LOVE THE BAND!  I went to a high school which had a highly structured band, but only marched 120 people during the season.  You didn’t have to be in marching band to be in the band program, and since I worked at camp in the summer (needing the cash) I wasn’t home for the late July/ August practices – I am a musician which didn’t march.  I was in the wind ensemble and orchestra during marching band season, but I was at as many practices as I could be – all my friends were there!  I went to every home game, knew all the cheers, knew the songs, hung out in the band section, and brought hot chocolate when it got cold.  Wore my school colors on Fridays and knew all four verses to our alma mater – “Close beside Cuyahoga’s waters, on this hallowed ground…”  Band fan extraordinaire!
I would leave home and walk toward school on Thursday night, living a mile away, and be beaconed to practice by the percussion squads – the drum beats, rudiments  and drills.   Strange how so much of my past memories of can be tied up so strongly with marching band practice.  High and college were filled with marching band, for I was studying music education, and you can’t get away from marching band – it’s a must-do.  And I did my student teaching within the Stow area schools, and got to participate in helping fifth graders learn how to hold a clarinet, help the middle school students play together as an ensemble, but the piece de resistance – the high school marching band.
The band director was an OSU alumni, and brought from Ohio State the signature move of the band – Script Ohio.  At OSU (B.D.B.I.T.L. – the Best …  Band In The Land)), while playing their particular march, the entire band, in formation of a long line, plays follow the leader, spelling out Ohio in script – it’s a thing a beauty to behold.  The simplicity, the power, ah!  And the final person, the focal point is the dot on the I, as a sousaphone player struts high step out the length of the field to take his place of honor and stardom – wait for it, here it come – TADA!  The dot on the I is a special privilege.
Well, script Stow is a different story and I can’t help cracking up now, even as I type, even as this was nearly 20 years ago now for me.  Chosen march, check; band in formation, straight line, check; marching single file, check; but then as you see the name of the school spelled before you – Slow.  WHAT?!.  Yep, there it is Slow, and you know to wait for something else, the finishing squad, that will focus your attention to their place of honor.  A squad of six, usually seniors, a privilege – and they bring their squad across the field as they cross the l and make it a t – Script Stow.
You may not find it as funny as I do, but as I listen to the drums of the restless natives, I am transported back to a time which was simpler.  As I walk down the street to watch the marching band practice, I am more centered and calm as I am connected to something in me which is primal to who I am.

Spending a little time learning how to add a photo to my profile. It always seems to take me a while, to get through small interuptions, but I think after followig all the instructions, I may have have got it. Now I'm going to figure out how to add a member to my site. Good luck!

Half a league, half a league, half a league onward

Alfred Tennyson was so inspired in 1854 by a book review he read in the newspaper about the charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean war that it took just a few minutes to write this epic poem. Does it praise the courage of soldiers in battle fighting for what they believe is right? Does is expose and mourn the horrors and meaninglessness of war? Each reading can bring out a different outcome to whoever is reading it. I’ve attached a portion today.
Half a league half a league Half a league onward 
All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred: 
Forward, the Light Brigade
Charge for the guns' he said
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
 
'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
Some one had blunder'd: 
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
 
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd; 
Storm'd at with shot & shell,
Boldly they rode & well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell 
Rode the six hundred.

Inspiring to me, these rhythmic lines, pulsing forward, they must be heard out loud, dramatically provided. But the sounds are too real for me – “why?” you ask? There is actual cannon fire in my backyard. You see, I live in an alcove between three corn fields, acres and acres of the golden vegetable growing in the hot summer sun. These neighbor farmers use a pneumatic powered cannon to shoot loud sound into the air ( no ammo) to keep the crows away. They set it and forget it, and have them programmed for about every 5 minutes. Yet like I said, three corn fields. It sounds like a proverbial war zone without the casualties or missiles or gunfire.
Yet, I still can’t get the picture of Alfalfa reciting this poem out of my mine, you know, when he firecrackers in his back pocket and someone was lighting them with the sun and a magnifying glass..
Cannon to the right of them (blammity blam blam)
Cannon to the left of them (blammity blam blam)
Cannon in front of them volleyed and thundered (running and yelling and exploding everywhere.)
So we are at home, with cannon to the right of us, cannon to the left of us, cannon in front…

Growing II

This is a burn pile we have at our Columbus Ave. corps, most of which has been put there by us and our four children, Tyler, Abby, Nate and Kate. It has more than doubled in this past week - what a fire we are gonna have!

Don't they look precious!

My husband and I are not alone in the effort to grow things here – I have several young ones helping me. As mom, I am not the one who does it all, and I cannot apologize about it. I do not feel the Bible tells me that mom will work into a frenzy to put everything away, cut, mulch, burn, mow, weed, dust everything, vacuum, wash, sort, polish – all on her own. I do feel, however, that the Bible is very specific about my role as loving authority in these young lives. “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6

As the authority within their lives, I cannot shun the responsibility to train them in how to work – and for these 14 months, it has meant to work hard. Now, in all honesty, this has also meant many jobs have taken sooooooooo much longer than if I would have done it myself. Frequently, I needed to follow-up their attempts to “help” and finish it properly. Or fix things. Or begin a whole other job the cleaning effort has created.. But as I do, I need to remind myself, “This is for their own good. This is for them. I love them too much to not let them know how to do this.”


We as parents are not raising boys and girls – we are raising men and women. Men and women who will not live with us their whole lives. They are going to live on their own, and maybe have the gracious privilege to be married. They are gong to combine their lives with other people, who may have been raised a different way, who approach work in a different way.
Far from breaking child labor laws, we have induced within our young family that work is part of what God created us for, and there is always more to do. Though a reluctant work force at times, they are definitely becoming a true help. Some of these jobs literally could not have been done without them. We have been able to accomplish big tasks, cooperating and complementing strength…that is before the “you’re such a snot head” word fights start and then its all over.
No other authority in their life is going to be as much in love with them as their family – no boss, no supervisor, no colleague, no policeman, no judge, no county commissioner. It is a responsibility squarely placed in front of the parents to help a child meet authority and not buckle under its weight, hide from its gaze or run from its boundaries. I am on my knees regularly before God to be guided by His authority to exercise a loving, firm, nurturing, reliable authority for them. My growing saplings, precious young ones…
my T.A.N.K.

Work gloves in hand, we set out to do the job that needs to be done. I have needed these gloves alot recently; they are protective for my hands in light of the large amount of landscaping we have needed to manage on several of our properties. They are filthy, beat up, but they have done their job - my hands are free of scrapes, blisters, thorns, tears. (They are also free of the beautiful nails I had. I waited so long to try to grow them again, and not to be vain or shallow, but they looked mahvahlous! But when heavy labor starts, no torn nail is a reason to stop - its a reason to trim. So, now they are short, again until next time.)
Grass seed growing at such a hot time for the year - risky business. Have you ever tried to grow new in the oppressive heat of July and August? You know all you have to do - be vigilent! Straw for protection from heat and birds, but still these areas of the lawn need extra care, extra water. Soon the lawn will be restored from the heavy trauma it has endured. (I'm not the only one, see skylight05 on xanga, same goes)

Everything seems out to get these new signs of growth - they are fighting against the odds - trying to break through and survive. Can I identify - sure enough! Our corps has seen Dave and I and others planting seeds of the the love of God and covering them with prayer and actively trying to nurture and cultivate new growth. New growth in times of high heat and over-exposure - a matter of deep prayer.

Is your day in need of protection? - turn to God in prayer. In need for the coolness of encouragement? - God is there. Muscles weary from the things you needed to do to prepare and protect those seeds God gave you? He restores your strength and takes up the tools with you. Drink in His presence, allow Him to quench your parched life. The heavy trauma that has been endured will not be the final story, there is new growth coming...a promise from God in the land of hopeful hearts.


Home sweet home