The Writing on the Wall

Not looking for Windmills

2012-02-15T08:01:00.002-05:00

Did you know the California Condor can fly hundreds of miles without flapping its wings? Neither did I but this is the sort of stuff my Dad knows. Lunch is never boring with my Dad. The condor is in a battle for its life with windmills, he went on to inform us. With very few condors in existence, there is a stiff penalty, even prison time, for anyone who kills a condor. The California windmills, harnessing safe wind power, are completely outside a Condor's natural warning radar. They are in danger of flying into them, not only leading to Condor Catastrophe, but on top of that, the windmill farmers will be thrown in jail. You would think a creature that could fly hundreds of miles without flapping a wing would know how to avoid such a scenario.

It's the same way I feel about movie stars dying young of drug overdose or alcohol poisoning. It just seems that with all those gifts of beauty, brains, and money out to wazoo, they could avoid such an obvious obstacle to health, happiness, and the pursuit of life. But that is not how the world works. It is not to the beautiful, the rich, the powerful, or even those who fly effortlessly without flapping a wing to which eternity or true contentment belongs. It is to those who recognize the One who holds the key to the door of eternity. Once you know Him, it's OBVIOUS, and we wonder how on earth we ever missed Him. (PS- I use capital letters here because this particular program won't allow italics. My daughter tells me that capital letters mean I am screaming, but that is not what I am doing. Please understand that if I had italics, I would use them. Thank you for allowing this non-profit interruption.)

"Don't they see the windmill?" I asked Dad,"It is so OBVIOUS!"
"They're just not looking for a windmill," he answered, "They are swooping down after prey and when they fly back into the sky, they don't look up."
Yes, I see. Even the obvious can be missed if we don't look up.

Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord,
the 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 nor 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.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

No Halfway Points

2012-02-14T08:23:00.001-05:00

It is Valentine's Day, which many people believe was named after St. Valentine, who was beheaded for defying evil Claudius the Cruel. However, this is a common mistake. It was actually celebrated to honor my mom, who was born Feb. 14, eighty years ago today, and exemplifies patient, gentle, love. In her honor, millions flock to florists and candy stores to remind their beloveds to be more like my Mom.

In honor of this momentous occasion, my brother and his wife Jenny are hosting a lavish home cooked meal for my parents. Unfortunately, my nephew, their son Anthony, has been puking for three days. He seems to be turning the corner after an ER visit to rehydrate him, but we are thinking 80 year olds, even saints, might not best celebrate by taking home three day puking germs.

So, John was home with his ailing son and couldn't ski with Asherel and me. We had planned it earlier, but the weather tossed up lake effect snow and hazardous driving. So we postponed it until last night. Greek Peak, the ski mountain just 40 minutes from my folks' home, is where my brother and my sister learned to ski. I would like to know why no one invited me. As an adult, learning to ski just 2 years ago, I absolutely love it and think I might have loved it more had I learned as a youth when bone breaking wasn't so ever present a hovering consideration. But for whatever reason, my siblings learned to ski...while I didn't. However, as Asherel and I rode the chairlift to the very top of the mountain, above us the red planet nestled among a cacophony of sparkling stars, the pine trees standing sentinel on either side of us, and the silence settling like a prayer all around us, I forgave them. Who could harbor any thought but gratitude in the presence of such beauty? Gratitude, and of course, pounding, absolute fear. My heart was galloping as we neared the mountain top. I had never skied down a whole mountain.

"Can we get off at the halfway point?" I had asked the chair lift manager.
"There is no halfway point."
"You have to go all the way to the top?"
"Yep."
"But there is an easy trail all the way down?"
"Oh yes."
"Is it clearly marked?"
"Yes."
"We won't miss it and end up on a black diamond run?"
"No, it is the main trail. Just stay on the main drag and you will be fine."
I wanted to gather more information, but Asherel was growing impatient.
"You worry a lot," she told me.

So it was all or nothing. I got on the chairlift and rode up up up to my fate.
My fear was not so much the skiing, as the view. I am afraid of heights and develop vertigo when I look over the edge of high places. What if I got vertigo at the top of the mountain? As it turned out, however, Greek Peak was perfect for beginners. The trail curved amid pine forests, and at least from the trail we skied, there was no plummeting, heart stopping vista of a wide open valley. It was the perfect challenge for my skiing skills, without being too scary, and we skied it several times before our legs told us it was time to go home.

All or nothing paid off. It often does. It is rarely worthwhile to go into any endeavor half-way. That seems a particularly appropriate message for Valentine's Day. Relationships rarely thrive when we don't give our all. It is true of human relationships and it is true of our relationship with God. He warns us that lukewarm devotion doesn't cut it. We must be willing to give up everything for Him, but paradoxically, we will gain eternity. It is harder than you think. It is like riding to the top of a mountain that you are certain will cause you to pass out in terror and discovering instead, that the subsequent ride down is ecstasy.

Happy Birthday, beloved Mom! May the joy of the day be like skiing without fear straight down a mountain while the stars and planets applaud.

Psalm 73:25
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

1 John 2: 15-17
Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in them. For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

a Rose is a Rose is a Rose....

2012-02-13T08:05:00.001-05:00

"That is a beautiful necklace!" cried the waitress, pointing at my neck while my parents, Asherel, and I settled into our seats in the diner.
"Thank you," I said, "My daughter made it."
She looked genuinely and appropriately impressed, "What is the material?"
"It's glass fusion."
"Really nice job," she said to Asherel, "Do you do other jewelry too?"
"Not much anymore, I used to make beads."
"I make beads!" said the waitress, "I make them out of rose petals."
You just never know what fascinating things you can learn if you are just nice to people, I thought.
"You make beads out of rose petals?" I asked.
"Yes, it is what they used to make rosaries out of," she said, "That's how rosary beads got their name."
I had never stopped to wonder how rosary beads got their name! I love this world full of interesting news!
"How do you make them hard?" I asked.
"You mush them all together, roll them, and in the old days they would dry them in the sun, but I bake them in the oven."

When I got home, I researched the origin of rosary beads. The use of rose petal beads arose in the 1920s, and there is no indication that it was the origin of the beads or the name. However she was correct in the process, and I didn't doubt that she did indeed make rose beads. The name rosary actually comes from a legend from the middle ages. A monk was reciting "hail Mary's" as a robber approached. The monk was tossing rose petals to the ground. The robber of course, repents of his evil intentions, and the Virgin Mary, who is also watching, gathers the rose petals and makes a rosary, or garland of roses for her head. Hence the beads which Catholics use to pray with became known as rosaries.

Gertrud Stein made roses famous again in her poetic line, "rose is a rose is a rose."
It was the equivalent of what so many teens say today, "Whatever." Or what I find myself saying often, "It is what it is." Take it or leave it, a rose will always be a rose. Some people will make them into beads to stay focused on their devotions to God, some will just smell their glorious scent passing by a garden, and some will never stop to smell them. No matter what the bystander does, the rose remains a rose. I thought how that applies to God as well. We can choose to worship Him, notice Him in passing, or walk by without any sense of His presence at all...but He is still there. He is still waiting in all His fullness, all His beauty, all His glory seeking to envelop us
with His magnificent bouquet of blessing if we will pause long enough to sniff.

Jeremiah 29:13
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Finding and Losing

2012-02-12T08:45:00.001-05:00

I awoke to snow this morning. Steady thick snow is falling right now. It is the first snow I have seen in a year so it is magical, beautiful, peaceful. It may ruin our plans today to go skiing. I am from NC. I am used to clear, safe streets to drive on to the ski mountain where not a drop of real snow lies. On the mountain, manmade icy granules pass as snow. But the roads are safe driving to and from, usually in balmy 50 degree weather.

This real snow poses a definite problem. I will have to drive on snowy roads to reach the ski mountain. Funny how the goal and the dilemma are presented by the same factor. Snow is both the desired haven and the treacherous liability. For all of you who have read my new book, you know that I am not a great snow driver, which led to the title story, and the day I met God driving a tow truck. So I don't want to drive in the snow, but I do want to ski in it. And it is the only time my brother will be able to ski with us.

We had had an extended discussion yesterday about how to construct our half day on the mountain. It is the cheaper night skiing rate/time, which goes from 4-9.
"But I am not a night person,John," I had warned, "And honestly, 4 hours of skiing is usually about all I can take."
"Let me explain how Jenny and I go skiing," said John, "We ski maybe 3 runs, then we go have 3 beers, then we ski another run or two and call it a night. We will be out of there by 8."
"Got it, I'll be the designated driver."
Normally when I ski, on the other hand, I don't take a break unless absolute necessity compels me to to. Once I start skiing, only exhaustion or a bursting bladder will induce me to come off the mountain. And I certainly would not mix one drop of alcohol with my already precarious skill level. I suspect John's ski style and mine are doomed to clash.

But now, we may not get to go unless the snow stops falling, because I won't drive on snowy roads. It reminds me of Paul's dilemma in following Jesus. He longs desperately to be with Jesus, in heaven, to adopt his new sonship and relationship and eternal joy with the heavenly Father. However, that same Father has for now called Paul to remain on earth, facing struggle, shipwreck, disease, persecution, torture, and prison. Fun fun fun! The goal is so tantalizing, but the way to reach it proscribed by the goal itself is filled with trauma and trial. The snow calls me, but has laced the path with its essence...snow....snow that often lies atop black ice where I can so easily lose my way.

Matthew 16:25
For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Do Not Fret

2012-02-11T07:57:00.001-05:00

Upon hearing of my despair about the computer glitch that showed me selling thousands of books at full price when they had actually "sold" on the free day, many friends, and even a stranger wrote to comfort and encourage me. Still, it was not easy to shake the feeling of betrayal at the hands of, if not the publisher, at least the computer that I have come to treat as a friend.

We were to drive yesterday morning from my son Matt's house in Virginia on to my folks in NY, but first, I went on an early morning run. I headed downhill, towards the river.

Matt lives in a tiny village along the Maury River. I headed towards the river as the fog still whispered on the surrounding mountain tops.

To my delight, there was a river walk that snaked alongside the Maury. Not another soul was out. The river gurgled and boiled in sections of white water. It's sputtering and splashing was the only sound besides my footfalls along the gravel path. At the turnaround point, I stood at the shore for a moment.

Sheer granite cliffsides rose from the opposite shore. The Blue Ridge mountains circled me

I had a little powwow session with God. I realized that when I started writing both my books, it was not to make money. It was to share my amazing experiences of God with others, most especially with people that might not otherwise read about Him. I felt it was something I was called to do, and my prayer was that He would be glorified. Somewhere along the line, I began to be hopeful that I could make money off this venture as well, but it was not my original primary intent. As I stood in the beautiful valley with the river gurgling and the mountains towering and the sun just beginning to stretch across the path, I remembered that purpose.

How easy it is to fret, to lose perspective. I don't know about you, but nothing returns me to a spirit of quiet worship and understanding better than being alone in a beautiful place. If only I were better at carrying those beautiful places within me!

"Thankyou Lord," I whispered, and noticed something silvery rise in the water and then slip away again with the current.

(NIV)Psalm 37:4-8

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. [5] Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: [6] He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. [7] Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. [8] Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret---it leads only to evil.

Easy Come, Easy Go

2012-02-10T07:53:00.001-05:00

It was fun being rich for a day. I drove to Virginia to spend the night with my son and new wife, and then today head on to my parents in NY. The whole drive, I was quietly enjoying the feeling of being a successful writer, having sold 13,300 copies of my new book. Granted 5,000 of those sales had been for free, but the rest had registered as full price sales a week after the free day. I was dreaming of life without so much struggle as my reputation as a writer bounded like deer overpopulating the forests. (Though I think now it is actually coyote that are overpopulating, but they don't bound so it is not quite as picturesque a simile.)

Matt, Karissa, and I attended the opening night of the Washington and Lee Mock Convention. Washington and Lee have been remarkably accurate, more than any one else, in predicting the Republican nominee each election cycle. We watched a debate between Ann Coulter and James Carville, followed by a speech by Huckabee. Coulter was great, even skinnier in person than on TV, which seems impossible. I am not sure how her legs support all that beautiful blond hair up on top of that skeletal frame. Carville was entertaining, but talks like he has a mouth full of marbles and rambles so far outside the point that most of the time, I had no idea what he was saying or why. Huckabee made me proud to be an American- an unbelievably inspiring speech. When he spoke about how a culture that refuses to embrace and protect the weakest of us is doomed, the crowd of college kids erupted in applause. That gave me hope for our country's future. Carville's rant that he wanted to see the government giving out more free on demand "after morning pills" to anyone who wanted them was met by me with horror, by silence from the crowd.

But I digress. Back to being rich. During the break, I checked my email. KDP, who publishes my ebook had written. I had wanted them to verify the amount of oodles of money I had made on my soaring sales Feb. 8. They wrote it had been a computer glitch. I did indeed "sell" 13,000 books, but all on the free days. It had taken a week for the computer glitch to work out....and the soaring sales I saw on
Feb. 8 had been made on the free day, Feb.2.

Karissa put her arm around me when my voice broke telling her and my son. I blinked and reread the email stunned. I had never lost so much money so quickly, not even on my most hedonistic spending spree. Both of them are in law school, and I asked if there was anything legally I could do. I could, but "discovery" lawyers would probably end up costing me $250,000 to find out if this was all true or not, far more than the amount I had thought I had made.

Why did God yank this rug out from under me, I wondered? I must have shown something to HIm that indicated I was not ready for fame and fortune. Wallowing in obscurity and struggle must be better for my soul for now. But boy, it sure is not as much fun.

Proverbs 28:6
Better the poor whose walk is blameless
than the rich whose ways are perverse.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Going Viral

2012-02-09T08:03:00.001-05:00

Alone! The house was quiet as I settled after dinner into the recliner, iPad on lap. Arvo was at his worship music practice, Asherel at the church youth group, and I was blessedly done with everything I had to do. I never expected what happened over the next 90 minutes.

I clicked on the sales reports of my new book. After my free promo, 5,000 books had flown off the shelves. Since then, at full price, it had been selling steadily but slowly. The old report from a few minutes ago was still on the screen. I refreshed the screen. What...? 500 new sales in 10 minutes? No, that couldn't be. I hit the refresh button again. 555 sales. I hit it again. 600. I took a deep breath and waited a few minutes, then hit it again. 1,000 books had sold in a span of a few minutes. First I started crying, and then I called my brother. He had told me when I first published that he was praying for 10,000 books to sell. I laughed, but was gratified by his faith in me...and in God.

"John...I think I'm going viral..."
"What? Why?"
"Listen, I just sold a thousand books...let me refresh the screen...1300....refresh again....1350.....refresh again.....1370....John, I am selling 20-50 books every couple of seconds!"
For the next half hour, I told John the raging total every few seconds. He was driving and had reached his destination but sat listening.
"Well," he said, "I prayed for a total of 10,000. You are going to reach that easy if this pace keeps up. Call me when you hit 10,000. I gotta go."
At 10,000 , a half hour later, I was on the phone with my sister Amy.
"10,000!" I screamed, "Gotta go, gotta call John! After all, he prayed for this!"
"John is my go-to prayer man now," said Amy, "Call him! Love you!"

After 90 furious, glorious minutes of sales, the sales suddenly slowed, and then trickled to just a few an hour. The viral surge appeared to have burnt out for now. I ended with over 13,250 books sold. Amazon listed me as one of the "hot new sellers" in the spirituality category, above some very well known authors. I was number nine on the hot new seller list this morning. It is a dangerous thing when a writer is so dumfounded as to be at a total loss for words.

Until I hear from the publisher, and see in writing what I earned, I won't spend any of my unexpected income. If it is real, at last I can give something meaningful to Hollow Creek Farm, whose help with our once vicious dog was the subject of my first book. There are other ministries I would love to give a little to, and now maybe, I can. But I am heading to my Mom's 80th birthday up north today. I do intend to take her and my dad out to a nice dinner. They taught me my first words and should help celebrate 13,000 people finding my words worth reading.

When I lay down last night, I couldn't sleep. I clasped my hands, with the bilateral rigid splints on my throbbing wrists, in prayer, and could not think of a thing to say to God except, "Thank you. For blessings above and beyond what I could ever imagine. Thank you."

Job 37:5
God's voice thunders in marvelous ways;
he does great things beyond our understanding.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Harsh Symbols

2012-02-08T08:11:00.001-05:00

I sat in traffic behind a minivan, or maybe it was an SUV, or maybe even a Hummer. I am pretty blind to car type. I would never make a good eye witness because those kinds of details escape me. I couldn't tell you its color either. But as I daydreamed at the traffic light, gazing at the car in front of me and not seeing, slowly it dawned on me that there was something strange about that car.

The back windshield wiper was completely snapped off, but the tiny stub that remained was flicking back and forth like a bobbed wagging dog tail. I watched the mesmerizing beat of the little wiper stub, and then it dawned on me to wonder:

why don't they turn it off?

It is not like it was doing anything useful. It couldn't. It couldn't even wipe a speck of dust off the window. So that set up a whole train of musings. Did the owners of the car know it was on? Were they also daydreaming? Did they even know it was broken? Did they think it was doing its job cleaning the window? Did they notice the window was still dirty? Since the stub was completely out of their vision, would they EVER notice it was on? Would it tick tock ineffectually for all eternity, while the owners went on their merry way till some day they drove through a deep and perilous mud puddle, splashing and completely obscuring their view out the back window, only to discover that they had no wiper and no way to clean the window?
So many horrible repercussions dashed through my mind that I almost got out of the car to warn them.

And then the light changed and they squealed away to their fate.

I sighed and travelled on, thinking of how often similar things like that occur spiritually. I pray, but become so quickly distracted, that within a moment of promising God my undying devotion, I am planning what carbohydrate to have with dinner. Or I think of someone in need and piously plot what I will do to help right after I finish my work, only to rationalize when my work is done, that I am too tired and too swamped with other needs to follow through on that grand idea. I read my Bible and my spirit is convicted of the need for change in my life, and then the same old ugly sin rears its head again, often before my Bible is closed. I am a broken windshield wiper, working furiously to no avail, going through all the right motions, but cleansing no part of my world.

"This is a rather harsh symbol," I mutter to God, as I drive home.
"That's because you are forgetting who powers your spiritual windshield," He whispers kindly.

Psalm 51: 1-2, 17
Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.

My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Freed!

2012-02-07T09:22:00.001-05:00

I found a way to beat the bitter cold while Asherel is in her agility class. I went into the warm building where the obedience classes take place. I was only planning to go in for a moment to use the rest room...but as I started to open the door to go back out into the windy, cold night, I paused.

"I don't need to be out there, anymore," I thought, "She is 14 now, and there are two leaders out there who know her well from our years with the club. I have faithfully stood in the bitter cold for three years watching Asherel and Honeybun train. I have done so willingly, wanting what is best for my dog and my child. But she is a capable young lady now and our dog is unlikely to revert to the vicious mess she was."

I crept to the bench alongside the back wall of the toasty training building. I settled down on the warm, inviting wood and shucked off my coat, my gloves, my scarf, my hat. I sighed deeply and watched the happy dogs in all the warm training rings.

There is a bad part of children growing up. As I so recently noted in a blog post when my new adorable grand nephew Gregory entered the world, babies are precious beyond belief. The mother has almost absolute control, and can protect the little ones and keep them nestled safely against her. Then they grow up. They develop minds that do not always march in lock step with their mother. They want to do new and sometimes dangerous things. They no longer think mothers' wisdom is really all it used to be. They skip blithely and blindly off into the cold, dark world....

The door opened with a blast of cold night air. I glanced out the door at the agility ring, under the field lights. I could see puffs of breath vaporizing in the cold air as the dogs and their owners ran in the winter chill. I saw Asherel listening to the teacher, and smiling. Then I saw her dash around the course with Honeybun streaming joyfully over the jumps, faster than I had ever seen her. There is a good part of children growing up, I thought, as I settled into my warm seat.

When I read the story of Hannah in the Bible, I am always saddened. She had prayed for years for a child, but remained childless. Then one day, God answered her prayer, and gave her Samuel. She kept Samuel and loved him till the day he was weaned, at which point she took him to the temple, and handed him over to the priest Eli. I don't think I could have done that. She was giving him up in service to the Lord as she had promised God. I want to rip out that page in the Bible. I don't get it. To have yearned so longingly, so desperately, and for such a long time for this gift from God, only to have to return it to Him! It seems so unfair. It breaks my maternal heart. Hannah was blessed with other children after Samuel, and I know that was a comfort, but as every mother knows, no child can replace another. They all capture a piece of the heart that cannot be filled by any other.

Yet God gave us the story of Hannah and her sacrifice for a purpose. All scripture has a purpose. Perhaps it was God's reminder that all of our children are just "on loan". All gifts of God are only for a season. Well, all except one notable exception. Salvation is eternal. It cannot be snatched away. It never has to be returned. It will never leave the desperate, longing soul standing all alone in the bitter cold.

And, even better, one day the legacy that Hannah gave her son, the legacy of faith, would bring that precious gift back to her. They would be standing together again in eternity. And in Heaven, there will be no dangers lurking on the paths that precious progeny might stroll, and no talking back. It will be all good, finally.

Psalm 116: 4-7, 16
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
"Lord, save me!" The Lord is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the unwary;
when I was brought low, he saved me. Return to your rest, my soul,
for the Lord has been good to you. Truly I am your servant, Lord;

I serve you just as my mother did;
you have freed me from my chains.

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

As a Mother Comforts her Child

2012-02-06T08:03:00.001-05:00

I have a hard time dragging myself away from Facebook. The new grand nephew Gregory takes my breath away. Fortunately, my sister the new Grandma is even more captivated than I am so she posts pictures about every 2-3 seconds. I have had a lot of fun drawing little Gregory on my iPad. I am too old to create a baby, but at least I can create a drawing of one.

Inevitably, given my melancholy nature, it makes me think of the days I can't return to when my own children were so tiny, so filled with all the promise of the universe, so utterly dependent on me. It was simultaneously the most terrifying and most exhilarating time of my life. I would have fought Darth Vader to protect those babies.

I still would.

I gaze at the pictures of Renee's new baby, and I drift into a coma of remembrance, and tenderness, and joy. I wish I could wrap my arms around the little seed of a mighty human, stretch them a thousand miles to touch his perfect fingers. And I wish I had many more arms that could leap time and space to stretch across other miles, caress the cheeks of my own dear children scattered in distant lands, and be able to whisper away their troubles and fears again.

And as in all things, I am reminded of God. God the Father. How He longs to comfort, to whisper away our fears. Still, so often I have run from Him, rather than to Him. And still, He reaches out infinite arms with mercy and forgiveness. He too would fight Darth Vader for His children. He too would die for them. In fact, He did.

Isaiah 66: 9-13
Do I bring to the moment of birth
and not give delivery?" says the Lord.
"Do I close up the womb
when I bring to delivery?" says your God. "Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her,
all you who love her;
rejoice greatly with her,
all you who mourn over her. For you will nurse and be satisfied
at her comforting breasts;
you will drink deeply
and delight in her overflowing abundance." For this is what the Lord says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;
you will nurse and be carried on her arm
and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

If I only Had a Brain....

2012-02-05T07:56:00.001-05:00

It has rained a lot this winter. No sooner do Asherel and I get real equipment for snowboarding...like helmets to protect all that valuable grey matter, than Winter decides to wimp out on us. However, all my ski equipment is packed in the van, ready for our trip up north to see my folks for Mom's 80th birthday bash. I packed cross country skis, alpine skis, parkas, hats, gloves, wool sweaters, poles, boots, ski totes, boot totes....The van is packed to the gills with winter fun.

Then I looked at the weather. Nice driving weather. Not a flake of snow in the forecast until you reach Alaska. Alaska is having the worst winter weather of its life, however. Snow is so deep and so pervasive that some villages have had to have ice cutters dredge paths for supply ships, and then use dog sleds to get it the rest of the way. Life is not fair nor its goodies even close to equally distributed.

As I was driving Asherel and her friend Josh to their volunteer work at a nearby farm, Josh asked, "Hey, if you could have anyone's brain transplanted in your head, whose would you choose?"
Now this was an interesting twist on the old question who would you be if you could be anyone on earth. With a brain transplant, you would retain all of you except your thoughts. You would still look like you, but you would think like....hmmmmm....who?

I could tell Asherel was stymied as well. We both fell silent.
"You know," I said, "I guess I really can't think of anyone I would rather think like. I guess I am pretty happy with my brain."
"Yeh...me too," said Asherel.
"I would keep my brain,"said Josh, "But make it better...super power it."

This came as a great revelation to me. When I look around at how much better everyone else on earth seems to be handling life than I do, I sometimes daydream about how everything would be so much better if only....

If only i had more money...
If only I had more patience....
If only I had more bathrooms....
If only I had more storage space....
If only my wrists didn't hurt when I tried to work on book #3....
If only someone famous would read book #1 and #2 and tell the world....
If only God answered every prayer exactly as I prayed it....
If only I knew how to be a better parent....a better wife....a better friend....
If only I had a better brain....
so many "if onlies".....

But when push comes to shove, I realized that if I had a brain transplant, where would all my thoughts go? If no one else thought like Vicky...the Vicky thread on the tapestry of life would be absent and all the threads that are held in place by the Vicky thread might unravel.

I thought of my new precious grand nephew, Gregory. If the Bible is true, and I believe it is, then that little prince of my sister's life was known by God even before He was born. His contribution to the kingdom may not be known by us as of yet, besides the unspeakable joy he brings with his advent, but it is known, has always been known by his Creator.

Isaiah 49: 1-6
Listen to me, you islands;
hear this, you distant nations:
Before I was born the Lord called me;
from my mother's womb he has spoken my name. He made my mouth like a sharpened sword,
in the shadow of his hand he hid me;
he made me into a polished arrow
and concealed me in his quiver. He said to me, "You are my servant,
Israel, in whom I will display my splendor." But I said, "I have labored in vain;
I have spent my strength for nothing at all.
Yet what is due me is in the Lord's hand,
and my reward is with my God." And now the Lord says—
he who formed me in the womb to be his servant
to bring Jacob back to him
and gather Israel to himself,
for I am honored in the eyes of the Lord
and my God has been my strength— he says:
"It is too small a thing for you to be my servant
to restore the tribes of Jacob
and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles,
that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth."

-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org

Soaring

2012-02-04T07:08:00.001-05:00

The new app that Amy had on her phone allowed us to see where she was on her trip to Arizona to be with her daughter as her grandson entered the world. It even allowed the distant viewer from across the globe to see how fast she was driving.
"Amy," I texted, "Let Jim drive! You are going 80! Your grandson will wait for you. You should show up alive!"
"80 is the speed limit," she texted.
I presume she was not driving 80 and texting. I hoped her husband was doing at least one of those tasks.

Renee was scheduled for her c section right as our Science Olympiad helicopter practice commenced. It was to be a three hour practice, since it might be the last time we could get the church with the high ceilings before the competition.
As our practice got underway, I got a text from Amy.
"She's going to OR!"

I watched our team, but honestly, I was distracted and worried. An hour went by and no text from Amy. Fortunately, the other parent helping me had been a labor and delivery nurse.
"It's been an hour," I lamented, "Do you think everything is ok?"
"It's fine," Rebecca assured me, "There is a lot going on right now."
The kids sent their helicopter soaring. And it did soar, all the way till it got stuck on a ledge. The patient security guard found a ladder and got it down for us.

Another text from Amy:
"7 pounds 14 oz!"
"He must be here!" I yelped, as I quickly texted back.
"Healthy?"
"Yes!"
"Renee doing well?"
"Yes!"
Our team snapped a rubber band and our best helicopter vanished into unsalvable smithereens.
"20 1/2 inches!" texted Amy.
And then the picture came. The helicopter team, Rebecca, and I gathered around my phone and gazed at the new little baby boy. Gregory.

Our next best helicopter was prepared for flight. The rubber band snapped and slashed a hole in the rotor.
"I guess practice is over?" asked the team.
Success and failure, all mingled in one day. Beginnings and endings. Triumphs and disappointments. The injured helicopters, along with the mortally wounded ones were packed back in their boxes. We headed home.

I sat up with my iPad on my lap till midnight, reading the facebook posts and looking at the pictures streaming in from Amy. I had fun drawing little Gregory on my iPad, and texting Amy as she drove back to her daughter's home late that evening. My bedtime is usually 9, but I knew I wouldn't sleep. I gazed at the picture of the little baby, with all the hopes and dreams of the world on his tiny shoulders.

When I finally did close my eyes that night, I saw helicopters whirling to the sun, rotors splashing rainbow glitter from heaven. And watching its flight was a new mother with a sleeping child nestled against her heart, beating in the rhythm of eternity.

Isaiah 49: 13-18
Shout for joy, you heavens;
rejoice, you earth;
burst into song, you mountains!
For the Lord comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.
But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me."
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me. Your children hasten back,
and those who laid you waste depart from you. Lift up your eyes and look around;
all your children gather and come to you.
As surely as I live," declares the Lord,
"you will wear them all as ornaments;
you will put them on, like a bride.

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Gentle towards One Another

2012-02-03T07:58:00.001-05:00

Asherel went to her riding lesson which we arranged on the spur of the moment since skiing got cancelled due to lack of winter. (It was 70 here in sunny Charlotte!) There was a new horse at the barn. I walked up to him and held my hand out for him to nuzzle, making clicking noises with my tongue. This usually draws horses to me like flies. This horse sniffed me briefly then walked slowly to the back wall of his stall. He turned his back on me, swatting his tail about.
"What is this all about?" I thought, feeling a little hurt. Horses usually like me.

My new book, God Drives a Tow Truck had an astonishing run yesterday during the free promo. 5030 books "sold" in the two day promo. If those had been paid for, I would be on a plane to Tahiti. Instead, I sat down to read the reviews. I got 6 five star reviews. They warmed the cockles of my heart, wherever that is. But why was my rating only 4 1/2 stars? Then I saw IT. WHAT!? My first negative review. 1 star. 1 star?

After pulling my head out of the toilet, I read the 1 star review. He claimed I wasn't an atheist at the beginning of the book like I had said I was in my promo blurb. He said he had grabbed it wanting to read about an atheist conversion, and this was hardly that. He didn't believe the stories in my book, and on top of it all, I had made an error in my time frame of events of when I started roller skating based on an editorial error (or lie....) He actually was correct on the editorial error. I had meant to say "ice skating" , not "roller skating" in the sentence he cited. He did not blast my writing, at least. Only the content was not what he thought it was.

I felt utterly deflated. Even worse than when the horse turned its back on me.
Welcome to book publishing. When you put yourself out there for all to see, someone is bound to hate you. Lesson to me: be gentle in your critique of others. You never know how discouragement might crush their spirit.

There was another review from another stranger. I noticed it after wallowing in the one star review. It said her dad had just passed away, and she had been comforted by my book. It reminded her that God is always there, even when we don't notice or know. She gave me five stars, and asked that I write more books.

When Asherel's lesson ended, I returned to the stall of the new horse.
I held out my hand and softly pet his muzzle. He stood for a moment and then walked back to the far end of his stall, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
"It's ok," I whispered, "Maybe once you get to know me, we can be friends."

Titus 3:1, 2
Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and always to be gentle toward everyone.

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Looking for a Shadow

2012-02-02T07:50:00.001-05:00

We had to cancel our homeschool ski trip today- rain and slush on the mountain, but had the deeply consoling celebration of Groundhog Day to comfort us. I once met a woman from Puxtawanawny, Pa., home of Puxtawanawny Phil, the weather forecasting groundhog.

"Wow, your town must be so fun on Groundhog day!"
"You cannot imagine," she told me, rolling her eyes.

Unlike Easter or Halloween which is steeped in pagan origins, Groundhog Day has Godly roots. It began as the Christian celebration of Candelmas, in which the priest gave out candles to his parishioners. The number of candles had to be determined that would last the whole remaining winter, so the priests turned to animal prognosticators. Back in those days, hedgehogs were used, but in modern celebrations, Groundhogs became the weather-creature of choice. This may be because groundhogs are diurnal, unlike the nocturnal hedgehog, thus more likely to see their shadow. Shadows are notoriously tough to spot at midnight. Tradition tells us that if the groundhog sees his shadow, there will be 6 more weeks of winter. If hedgehogs see their shadows, they have gotten up too early and go back to bed.

However, there is an even sadder, and more likely evolutionary reason why weather predicting was transferred from the hedgehog to the groundhog. The hedgehog has a disturbing propensity of sticking its head in leftover food containers and then getting stuck, unable to get the container off. Hedgehogs were dying in droves from starvation until Mcdonalds redesigned their McFlurry containers to be more hedgehog friendly. This is a true story! The paucity of hedgehogs may well have led to the abandonment of Hedgehog Day in favor of Groundhog Day.

I always try to find what God is trying to say to me in the common events or discoveries of my day. Sometimes I struggle to connect the dots, but this one was easy. You never know how you will be used of God. Your fame, your usefulness, your splendor in the sun may be but a moment. You may spend a whole winter hibernating, unaware of the purpose for which you have been called, and then, WHAM, you are pulled out of your hole and raised for one glorious moment for all the world to see where or even IF your living presence will cast its shadow. Always be ready for that moment! Prepare yourself for the call, whenever it may come, whatever it may be.

"You must be so thrilled to be from such a famous town," I told the lady from Puxtawanawny, Pa.
"Well, Groundhog Day is fun...but the rest of the year, blink and you will miss it."
"But Groundhog Day...that must be amazing!"
"Oh yes, for that one day we are the most famous place in America."

Isaiah 38:7, 8, 17-19
"'This is the Lord's sign to you that the Lord will do what he has promised: I will make the shadow cast by the sun go back the ten steps it has gone down on the stairway of Ahaz.'" So the sunlight went back the ten steps it had gone down.

Surely it was for my benefit
that I suffered such anguish.
In your love you kept me
from the pit of destruction;
you have put all my sins
behind your back. For the grave cannot praise you,
death cannot sing your praise;
those who go down to the pit
cannot hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living—they praise you,
as I am doing today;
parents tell their children
about your faithfulness.

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Washing Feet

2012-02-01T07:41:00.001-05:00

Lucky, our crazy terrier, is very concerned about Honeybun's bent over ear. Nearly every time he walks by her, he stops, looks at her, and then begins vigorously licking that ear. She sighs, closes her eyes, and waits till he tires of this game, and then when he leaves, she scratches her now tickled face with her paw. Lately, after he finishes washing her ear, he begins to lick all over her face. She endures this attention patiently, and then when he leaves, rubs away the tickle again with both paws. This is all the more remarkable on Lucky's part since when we first brought Honeybun home two...or is it now three (!) years ago, she tried to kill him...repeatedly.

Every time I watch Lucky in his gentle ministrations to the dog that once wanted to drink his blood, I cannot help but think about how Jesus washed his disciples feet. He was about to go to the cross to die for the sins of all mankind, including those disciples. It is a remarkable act of forgiveness, a remarkable symbol of the cleansing power of His atoning sacrifice.

"You're a nice dog, Lucky," I tell him. He looks at me and thumps his tail, then comes over and begins licking my toes.

John 13: 8-17
"No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet."
Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." "Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!" Jesus answered, "Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you." For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean. When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

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Sensitive

2012-01-31T07:30:00.001-05:00

The day dawned on my dread. It was the day of the dentist. Instead of chirping, the birds were singing scary music. I dragged myself through the despairing minutes, each tick tocking me closer to the time when I would be on the plastic covered crinkling chair, leaning back to my doom, sensitive teeth trembling.

I hate going to the dentist. I never have cavities and all I have to endure is the cleaning, but I have a few recessed areas where the nerve must be close to the surface because every time the hygienist comes near me with that little metal scraping tool, I am ready to divulge any state secret she would care to ask.
"Please, I'll tell you anything!!! Just don't touch my teeth!"
"Now now, Mrs. Kaseorg, you know we go through this every time. We have to touch your teeth and get off those stains...or worse things will happen."
"Worse? Like loosing poisonous snakes in my ear, cause that is the only thing worse that could happen."
"No, like even more invasive dental procedures. You don't want that, do you?" Her eyes glint with a hellish fire.
"Now open wide....hmmm, you don't drink coffee, do you?"
"I do...so sue me. I only have one cup a day, in the morning."
She scowls and pats my arm, then arranges the metal torture devices on the tray in front of me. She hands me a pair of sunglasses.

Now I don't like to be rude, but I laughed at this innovative growth in dentistry.
"Sunglasses?"
"It helps with those bright lights overhead."
"I could just close my eyes."
"Yes you could."
"I think that is what I will do, though I am very impressed by all the advances in your field....is anyone working on making it not hurt?"
She laughs and pats my arm again.
"So," I say, to put off the inevitable and put her at ease, "How long have you been working here?"
"4 months," she tells me, "And I think I am going to love this field."
Oh dear Lord, please don't let that sentence mean she is new at this. Please don't let a trainee near my sensitive teeth.
"Oh," i say, tremulously, "Where did you work before?"
"This is my first job! I just graduated!" She smiles at me like I should be encouraged.

I tried to disassociate from my body for the next hour. I tried reciting psalms, and tried to conjure images of green pastures, and still waters. I love the psalms, and they normally do bring comfort.
"Yea though I walk through the valley of death...."
"Are you doing ok, Mrs Kaseorg?"
"mwwbbbewewwwwmmmmm...."
She pats my arm and keeps scraping. I leap out of my chair.
"OOPs, that was another sensitive spot, wasn't it...?"
Thankyou for noticing, Captain Obvious.
"I will fear no evil for though art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...."
"All done! Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
I totter to my feet and stumble to the exit sign, noticing in big red letters on my chart, underlined, "VERY sensitive."

That I am, I thought, sensitive spirit, sensitive teeth,....were my soul so sensitive to the promptings of God, how much better off I would be.

Deuteronomy 28:1,2,15, 56-57
If you fully obey the Lord your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. All these blessings will come on you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God: However, if you do not obey the Lord your God and do not carefully follow all his commands and decrees I am giving you today, all these curses will come on you and overtake you:
The most gentle and sensitive woman among you—so sensitive and gentle that she would not venture to touch the ground with the sole of her foot—will begrudge the husband she loves and her own son or daughter the afterbirth from her womb and the children she bears. For in her dire need she intends to eat them secretly because of the suffering your enemy will inflict on you during the siege of your cities.

Deuteronomy 29:29
The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.

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Breaking Away

2012-01-30T09:18:00.001-05:00

Movies were more comfortable 30 years ago. You could trust a PG to have no naked people making you cover your teen's eyes. You could not blush and have to have a long discussion afterwards about how all that immorality that looked fun and normal would lead to horrible consequences and was not what God or I hoped for in their lives. You could point to the characters as the type of person you hoped they would grow up to be. I rarely go to the movies anymore. They are too graphic, too violent, too sexual, too depraved, too immoral. I know there are a few good ones, but even those often have sections that make me want to vomit.

So we often gather in our living room with Netflix, and the ability to fast forward should those sections appear. And since Netflix has very few of the new good movies we might want to see, we have been watching movies made when I was young. The one we saw a couple of nights ago was one I had forgotten. It was one of my favorites- Breaking Away. It is the story of poor "townies" in a college town. The heroes are four boys just graduated from highschool. None applied to college. All see a future doing blue collar work, like their folks did. It is their last summer of freedom, before they must enter the bleak, real world. One is an astonishingly good bicyclist, and wins medal after medal racing. The turning point in the movie is when he and his friends enter a bicycle race as the "townie" team, against the wealthy, tanned, gorgeous, athletic frat boys.

I loved that movie. The parents, while imperfect, were wonderful role models- a loving, hard working, committed, intact family. The four friends were loyal and fun and generous to each other- the kinds of friends we all wished we had. The bicyclist was a delightful and respectful and compassionate son, loving his parents fiercely, seeing through their foibles to their humanity. The child we all want our children to be. And when he rides his bicycle, the passion for racing the wind swirls through the very air.

The next morning, I strapped on my carpal tunnel splints on both wrists, and put on my bike helmet. I didn't know if I could bike with the injured wrists, but bicycling has always been one of my passions. I have had the wrist pain for so many months, that I had not biked nearly all summer til now. I had forgotten how much I loved it.

I didn't race the wind, like the boy in the movie. But I rode with the wind, and listened to peepers croaking in the nearby creek, fooled by the warmth into thinking spring was here. The wrist splints kept me pain free, though I only rode for an hour so I wouldn't strain them. I thought about decency, and kindness, loving one's family, honoring one's parents, living moral lives whether someone was watching or not. I thought of the title of the movie- Breaking Away. The young man was breaking away from the life of his poor town- I won't spoil the movie and tell you how. But he was wise enough to understand that the one thing he should never break away from was the love of family, or moral truths like honesty, integrity, and kindness. It was not a movie about God, but it made me think of God.

I patted the handlebars of my bicycle as I rolled it back into the crawl space under the house. The chrome sparkled, and it almost looked like it smiled as I waved goodbye while closing the door.

1 Thessalonians 4: 3-9
It is God's will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control your own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God; and that in this matter no one should wrong or take advantage of a brother or sister. The Lord will punish all those who commit such sins, as we told you and warned you before. For God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life. Therefore, anyone who rejects this instruction does not reject a human being but God, the very God who gives you his Holy Spirit. Now about your love for one another we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other.

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Playing Possom

2012-01-29T08:50:00.001-05:00

"Are you just playing possum?" asked my husband flipping the stiff animal over with a shovel.
If the possum was just faking death, it deserved an Oscar. Rigor mortis is a particularly difficult role to pull off convincingly. He noticed wounds on the possum. The dogs and I watched from the safety of the sunroom. The dogs avoided my accusing stares.

Lucky had snatched a whole hunk of bread off Asherel's plate when no one was looking later on. First possum, now bread. Our dogs were turning into wild predators.

"Do you think they were the ones that killed it?" I asked, when Arvo returned.
"I can't see Lucky killing anything," he answered, "But there were wounds on its back."
We looked at Honeybun, the dog who had survived for some time in the wild before we found her.
"I better bathe them and look for wounds," I said, "I thought I had smelled dead animal when I walked in the house yesterday."

The dogs approach a bath like a prisoner approaches death row. Heads hang, ears droop, tails down, expressions glum but resigned to their fate. Sometimes they fight, spread-eageling legs to prevent me carrying them through the door. I plopped them one at a time into the tub.

Warning to all you who have carpal tunnel syndrome- dog lifting and bathing is not on the list of recommended treatments.

So with re-strained wrists, but dogs that smelled like fresh strawberry lime, I sat down and glanced out the window. I noticed a "Critter Control" truck pull into the neighbor's driveway. I headed out to talk with him.
"Too late."
"Too late?" he asked.
"The possum's dead."
"Possum?"
"Aren't you here to catch a possum?"
"No, ma'am, I'm here for moles."
"Oh, well we found a dead possum. Do you want it?"
Now in retrospect, I wondered why I would think anyone would want a dead possum. He laughed.
"No thanks."
"Well I just thought maybe someone would want to test the possum..."
He cocked his head, probably wondering how well a possum would score. Particularly a dead one. I don't know what a possum's IQ is, but maybe Gordon Hodson has a method of testing that. He seems adept at outrageous studies. (see yesterday's blog for more on that rant.)
"No, too expensive. They almost never carry rabies. That's why we don't kill them. We catch them and relocate. Was it wounded?"
"Well, if you want to see it, my husband put it in the garbage can."
He looked at me with the same incredulity he had expressed when I asked him if he wanted to test it.
"No thanks. Did he double bag it? It is legal to throw it out in the garbage if he double bagged it."
"I think he single bagged it."
The Critter Control man gathered his mole equipment. I didn't want him leaving and sending the Possum Police, so I assured him we would double bag it.

I thought about how many times in life, rather than confront some things directly, I much prefer to play possum. If I play dead, I won't be called to action. Sometimes when you fight, you really do sustain wounds and sometimes you can even die, like our poor single bagged friend in the garbage can. What is worth fighting for...? We are studying WW1 right now in homeschool, but every time we hit a new section of history, there is some conflict that people felt worth risking their life to resolve. Which are worth dying for? Are any? On a lesser but still toxic scale, which principles are worth speaking up about? How many times do I see an ignorant or derogatory or uninformed remark pop up in facebook (sometimes even of my own making) and not comment?

"Well, good luck with the moles," I called to the Critter Control man, "Do you catch and relocate them too?"
He again threw me a glance that seemed to indicate that my IQ was not a whole lot higher than the possum's. I suspect the moles were not about to be relocated. Playing possum might be a useful trick they should learn quickly.

Ecclesiastes 3: 7,8,17-21
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace. I said to myself,
"God will bring into judgment
both the righteous and the wicked,
for there will be a time for every activity,
a time to judge every deed." I also said to myself, "As for humans, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Surely the fate of human beings is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; humans have no advantage over animals. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?"

Matthew 18:12-14
"What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish.

-Everything is possible with God

Bias

2012-01-28T08:21:00.001-05:00

"We have broad interests in prejudice generally, whether toward immigrants, foreigners, homosexuals, the obese, Americans, Muslims, women. We are even interested in fictitious groups and attitudes toward non-human animals."

This is a quote from Gordon Hodson's research site. Gordon Hodson is the lead researcher in the recent study claiming that conservatives, especially social conservatives, have lower IQs and greater prejudice against others than liberals. Look carefully at the list I quoted from his website. Does anyone else notice the glaring omission? Prejudice against religious groups is noticeably absent from his list. I presume his list is not all inclusive, but to list "fictitious group and attitudes toward non-human animals" and not include Christians, or other religious groups except Muslims on the list strikes me as telling.

I was unable to find any details on the research, but I find the remarks that are swirling about the internet elucidating in and of themselves. The dominant one is "we needed research to tell us social conservatives are dumb? Gimme a break." Does the irony of Hodson's supporters' statements about the findings of his research on prejudicial attitudes escape anyone else? Oh and another favorite comment of mine... "these are only averages, so why are you upset?" In other words, I might well be one of those lone smart social conservatives. In fact, I might even be a genius, but most of my fellow right wingers are morons. I wonder what then induces that smart one to hang with the dummies and share their views? That defies logic. Hodson tries to soften the blow telling us there "may" be compassionate conservatives...this is just a finding regarding the average. Thanks. Whew.

And does anyone else remember the outcry against the book from 1994, The Bell Curve, which infuriated many people? The researchers explored IQ differences among various races. The raging arguments with the book's release included attacks (largely by liberals, btw) that there was sparse if any peer review of the research, that the tests of IQ themselves were biased in favor of certain groups, and that the whole research direction was an attempt to perpetuate racism and prejudice. Interesting that with Hodson's research, the liberal response, at least the only one I have found on the internet is: well of course...who needed research to tell us that the religious right are stupid and bigoted? IQ research is reprehensible and suspect EXCEPT when it rips apart those dastardly religious right conservatives.

I cannot find much about how Hodson conducted his research. i presume details will come out soon. Did he undergo rigorous peer review before publishing this work? Where did he draw his sample? Was it random/blind sampling and representative of the groups he was claiming to sample? What kind of statistical analysis did he use? How does he explain the research that indicates conservatives, especially social conservatives are overwhelmingly more charitable than liberals? (see article below, but also recent article in Wall Street Journal which fully concurred with this older article.) How does he define and delineate social conservative? Are committed religious folks separated from casual religious folk, since recent research indicates there IS a difference in these groups. Research also indicates that social conservatives' charity extends overwhelmingly to groups of other races. Has Hodson explored the reason for that incongruity in this so called stupid/prejudiced group?

The research on homeschool groups, huge studies largely conducted my Dr. Ray,http://www.hslda.org/docs/study/ray2009/default.asp, has been criticized because the subjects agreed to submit test scores, thus perhaps those with low scores wouldn't have joined the study. Yet the tests had not yet been administered prior to the research. Some concerns raised were that the tests were administered by parents, thus suspect. Yet even on standardized tests administered by impartial observers (ACT college entrance tests), homeschoolers outperform every other group. Again the research is not exhaustive on this, but most findings agree that homeschoolers are overwhelmingly social conservatives. Did Hodson explore that strange seeming contradiction to his work?

Some people, when I expressed my outrage at Hodson's work, suggested I must be narrow minded, not open to change or new ideas. I wonder if those same people will read the studies I cited above, or is exploring new ideas only narrow minded when it relates to issues such as insisting a baby is a baby from conception, or an intact family with mother and father is best for a child, or that government should be small, or that Christian ideals should not be ridiculed?

As I searched the internet for specifics on Hodson's study, a moth flitted from the chair. We seem to be inundated with moths lately. I have no idea where they are coming from, but I am finding tiny holes in my cherished wool coats. They are such a tiny thing, and yet seem bent on destruction.

"To you, O people, I call out;
I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence;
you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. (Proverbs 8:4, 5 NIV)

Conservatives More Liberal Givers
By George Will
WASHINGTON -- Residents of Austin, Texas, home of the state's government and flagship university, have very refined social consciences, if they do say so themselves, and they do say so, speaking via bumper stickers. Don R. Willett, a justice of the state Supreme Court, has commuted behind bumpers proclaiming "Better a Bleeding Heart Than None at All," "Practice Random Acts of Kindness and Senseless Beauty," "The Moral High Ground Is Built on Compassion," "Arms Are For Hugging," "Will Work (When the Jobs Come Back From India)," "Jesus Is a Liberal," "God Wants Spiritual Fruits, Not Religious Nuts," "The Road to Hell Is Paved With Republicans," "Republicans Are People Too -- Mean, Selfish, Greedy People" and so on. But Willett thinks Austin subverts a stereotype: "The belief that liberals care more about the poor may scratch a partisan or ideological itch, but the facts are hostile witnesses."

Sixteen months ago, Arthur C. Brooks, a professor at Syracuse University, published "Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism." The surprise is that liberals are markedly less charitable than conservatives.

If many conservatives are liberals who have been mugged by reality, Brooks, a registered independent, is, as a reviewer of his book said, a social scientist who has been mugged by data. They include these findings:

-- Although liberal families' incomes average 6 percent higher than those of conservative families, conservative-headed households give, on average, 30 percent more to charity than the average liberal-headed household ($1,600 per year vs. $1,227).

-- Conservatives also donate more time and give more blood.

-- Residents of the states that voted for John Kerry in 2004 gave smaller percentages of their incomes to charity than did residents of states that voted for George Bush.

-- Bush carried 24 of the 25 states where charitable giving was above average.

-- In the 10 reddest states, in which Bush got more than 60 percent majorities, the average percentage of personal income donated to charity was 3.5. Residents of the bluest states, which gave Bush less than 40 percent, donated just 1.9 percent.

-- People who reject the idea that "government has a responsibility to reduce income inequality" give an average of four times more than people who accept that proposition.

Brooks demonstrates a correlation between charitable behavior and "the values that lie beneath" liberal and conservative labels. Two influences on charitable behavior are religion and attitudes about the proper role of government.

The single biggest predictor of someone's altruism, Willett says, is religion. It increasingly correlates with conservative political affiliations because, as Brooks' book says, "the percentage of self-described Democrats who say they have 'no religion' has more than quadrupled since the early 1970s." America is largely divided between religious givers and secular nongivers, and the former are disproportionately conservative. One demonstration that religion is a strong determinant of charitable behavior is that the least charitable cohort is a relatively small one -- secular conservatives.

Reviewing Brooks' book in the Texas Review of Law & Politics, Justice Willett notes that Austin -- it voted 56 percent for Kerry while he was getting just 38 percent statewide -- is ranked by The Chronicle of Philanthropy as 48th out of America's 50 largest cities in per capita charitable giving. Brooks' data about disparities between liberals' and conservatives' charitable giving fit these facts: Democrats represent a majority of the wealthiest congressional districts, and half of America's richest households live in states where both senators are Democrats.

While conservatives tend to regard giving as a personal rather than governmental responsibility, some liberals consider private charity a retrograde phenomenon -- a poor palliative for an inadequate welfare state, and a distraction from achieving adequacy by force, by increasing taxes. Ralph Nader, running for president in 2000, said: "A society that has more justice is a society that needs less charity." Brooks, however, warns: "If support for a policy that does not exist ... substitutes for private charity, the needy are left worse off than before. It is one of the bitterest ironies of liberal politics today that political opinions are apparently taking the place of help for others."

-Everything is possible with God

Watching Daily

2012-01-27T07:48:00.001-05:00

The bookstore, Park Road Books, that stocks my first book called me. They needed more of my first book, and asked to look at my second book. I tottered in with the box of books, my braced wrists aching. I wondered how many authors deliver their books with double wrist braces for carpal tunnel syndrome. Probably a lot. Somehow, I felt proud of this occupational malady. No one needed to know it had not come from writing books, but from answering emails about ski trips I organize....

The owner smiled and looked like he knew me when he came in from the back room. All the workers surely did too, this well known local author stepping within their sphere. I felt the aura of fame surrounding me. I smiled beatifically upon my subjects, my every movement graceful and refined. I knew there must be crowds being held back by riot police just outside the door for word had leaked that Vicky Kaseorg was delivering a box of new books. I tipped my chin at the right angle for the glimmer of sun to strike it in such a way as to suggest it no longer dripped without definition into my neck. Ah, it is glorious to be so revered!

"And what are you here for?" asked the saleswoman, breaking into my reverie.
"I brought some more books."
She opened the box, "Oh, more Listening! Oh, ok. Just a second."
Then she disappeared.
The other salesmen just kept working, while I waited.
They probably didn't recognize me without my name tag.
Fame is fleeting, I thought.

When the saleswoman returned, she handed me a check. It was the completely unexpected payment for the books I had sold. I had totally forgotten about being paid. When I subtracted my costs, the profits would not change my life...but we could have a nice dinner out maybe, and I could send a donation to hollowcreekfarm.org.

I held up the new book, my second book, God Drives a Tow Truck.
"Sarah emailed me and told me she wanted to look at this one too," I said.
The owner took the book, looked it over, and shrugged, "Sure, leave 5 of those too."
Oh the grueling, nail biting review one must endure to find shelves willing to stock one's blood, sweat, and tears!

Earlier, I had been watching the dogs on this gloomy, cloudy day. They were sitting at the glass door, as usual, watching the world go by. They had an expectant cast to their head, as though they knew something wondrous, something momentous could occur at any moment. Something unexpected and miraculous could shake their world and they wanted to be looking for it. They were taking no chances that they might miss it.

Proverbs 8 is a whole chapter about seeking with expectant wonder. In that book, Wisdom is personified, and the writer is diligently seeking and exhorting others to set all else aside in the pursuit of Wisdom. The seeker is described as waiting and watching at a door, knowing that the blessings of God will flow upon those who earnestly seek the best that God has to offer. The implication in that proverb is those who aren't watching could miss it. It would be like my poor dog Honeybun deciding to go get a drink of water just as the mailtruck she so loves to bark at drives by. Her daily vigil would end without coming to fruition from that lapse.

I stepped back outside the bookstore. I noticed that the police had done a masterful job of dispersing the crowds. Not one adoring fan remained, swooning as I emerged. The sun was trying to peek out from behind the gloomy clouds that had dampened the entire day. Smiling, I tossed the empty book box in a garbage can.

Proverbs 8:34
Blessed are those who listen to me,
watching daily at my doors,
waiting at my doorway.

-Everything is possible with God

Linking All Creation

2012-01-26T08:23:00.001-05:00

I laid out a kleenex in front of the art student. She looked dubious.
"See all the shadows and highlights? See the lines the folds create? Drawing tissues is much harder than you might think."
And perhaps more boring....She didn't say that, but I suspect she was thinking that. She is one of my new students and so far this new semester, I have taught only necessary but unexciting techniques like grids and pencil grips for varying types of shading. And now this, drawing a tissue. She was likely wondering why her mom heard this was a fun class, a fun art teacher.

I remember in art school, the same teacher who made us spend weeks drawing a broccoli floret also had us draw a crinkled piece of saran wrap. It is amazing what you can learn by trying to draw saran wrap. One of the biggest lessons is that there is beauty lurking in everything. You sometimes have to practice finding it, but it is there. It is one of my favorite reasons for living- finding treasures that most people don't notice. Hearing the message that often goes unheard. Linking all creation back to the Creator.

"Technically, God didn't make saran wrap," my little angel on my shoulder reminded me," I'm not so sure you can make glowing messages about the Creator from a wad of tissue either."
I brushed the aggravating voice aside, "You don't know your Bible then...the Creator spreads out the earth with ALL that springs from it."

Isaiah 42: 5-8
This is what God the Lord says—
the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out,
who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it,
who gives breath to its people,
and life to those who walk on it: "I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness;
I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
to be a covenant for the people
and a light for the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind,
to free captives from prison
and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness. "I am the Lord; that is my name!
I will not yield my glory to another
or my praise to idols.

-Everything is possible with God

As the Creator Intended

2012-01-25T07:57:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I tried an art form I had never done before, and no, I don't mean "one that requires talent". A friend gave Asherel and me tickets to a little gallery that teaches glass fusion classes. I had no idea what glass fusion even was, but it sounded better than what I had planned for Tuesday night, which was to go to the internet site where i could watch the sales tick off on my new book. Hard as it was to pull away from that exciting activity, we headed off the little gallery, which was nestled in a shopping center.

Right off the bat, luck was with us. Since I personally believe there is no such thing as luck, I will leave it to your imagination what or Who was really with us. It was a BYOB event, which meant to every participant except those at our table that this was a license to leave the designated driver home. Now I have nothing against a glass of wine while handling sharp shards of glass that you cut and snip so little pieces fly off into neighboring table occupants' eyes. I was concerned that copious amounts of alcohol were being consumed (one couple had two bottles perched beside them) and I didn't see any taxis waiting to haul their tottering rear ends home.

But back to that luck part. We sat down at a table where, praise be to God, there was another teenager (the only other young person there besides Asherel). Her father wore a tshirt that said, "Elevation Church." They had no bottles of booze. This was his BYOD night instead- Bring Your Own Daughter. He had 6 children, all girls, and each week he took one girl out alone to a wonderful event of their choosing. I settled happily at that table.
"Do you do other artistic endeavors?" I asked the girl.
She blinked at me. "um....what?"
"Do you do art?"
"I play softball...is that art?"
"It depends on how you play it. It could be," I said smiling.
"And how did you get dragged into this?" I asked the kind father.
"Actually, I have done this before. I suggested it. I really like it."
Well there, in two short sentences, I had potentially alienated the only other sober people in the shop.

The owner began the class saying, "Glass fusion is a lot of fun."
After that sentence, I was lost. Small wisps of comprehensible instructions flitted in and out of her instructional discourse. I knew I needed two layers near the edge or the piece would get "wonky". I knew that if I clipped a corner off the glass, wear the goggles and warn the others to close their eyes or duck. I knew that opaque and translucent created different effects and one should never be layered on top of the other but for the life of me, couldn't remember which.

"Any questions?" she asked.
Oh, where to start.... I was all questions. I wasn't even sure if layer one was the form we were given or if that was the zero layer and we needed two more layers atop that.
"What would you like to make?" she asked holding out our choices.
"A trivet...I guess," I answered.
"What color background glass?"
I paused. I had no idea. I didn't know what I wanted to put on my trivet. I turned to Asherel who is usually helpful in artistic matters.
"Should I do a blue trivet and put Honeybun on it?"
Asherel raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you want to try to make something that looks real," she advised.
"Blue," I told Jen, the owner.
Asherel shook her head and gathered her supplies to make her pendants.
I went and gathered little pieces of glass in yellows and browns for my dog head.

As I carefully arranged the glass on my trivet, I realized that little angular pieces were not easily assembled to create anything remotely looking like a dog.
Jen looked over my shoulder.
"What are we making?" she asked.
You are making a whole bunch of drunks that will be driving home as a menace to society, I thought, but, "I am making a dog."
She peered at the trivet and squinted. I wanted to tell her at that point that I was a professional artist, but then thought that might make her more dubious of my talent than just being silent about that little tidbit of info.
"I see it," she said.
"You do? Because frankly at this point...I don't."
She patted my shoulder and drank some more wine.

It actually was a lot of fun. The people with the wine were turning out masterpieces. Asherel made some really lovely pendants. My dog on the trivet looked vaguely canine, and I could always just call it abstract art. The pieces were left at the gallery where they would be fired, and we were warned, your never know what they will look like when they come out. That was the fun of glass fusion, Jen told us. It would resemble what you put in the kiln, but could be completely unexpectedly different when it emerged.

"Now these are the simple rules to make you like the piece you make. You can choose to ignore them," warned Jen, "But then you aren't going to like what comes out of the kiln, and you will blame me."

I thought about how God must feel. He gathers all the raw materials for decent, responsible, good, and loving human beings, and then He throws us in the kiln of Life. We all are individually and often surprisingly transformed by the circumstances in the fire of living. Some of us emerge as masterpieces, but I suspect most of us don't come out quite as the Creator intended.

Job 23:10-12 (NIV)
But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. [11] My feet have closely followed his steps; I have kept to his way without turning aside. [12] I have not departed from the commands of his lips; I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.

-Everything is possible with God

Searching for Number One

2012-01-24T07:30:00.001-05:00

My book, newly published and out on Amazon in both print and e-book format started its life as the 333,000th best seller. By the evening, it had soared to 70,000th best seller. I am on pace for hitting number one before the world ends.

According to the hype, the Mayans predicted the world ends Dec. 21, 2012. From the brief research I did, which almost assures it is inaccurate, the Mayans never predicted a cataclysmic end on that date. They had a "short"calendar, that roughly translated to a person's lifetime expectancy, and then they did some ingenious math to string together a "long" calendar...and that long calendar ends on Dec. 21, 2012. Somehow, people decided that meant the Mayans had predicted the end of the world, when in reality, all it meant is that they would need to tack up a new calendar on Dec. 22.

This is good news for me on a few levels. First, I am not at all excited about a cataclysmic end to the world before I have grandchildren, or graduate my last one out of homeschool. After twenty years of this job, I want to see how it ends. Secondly, if I do reach number 1, I want to have time to bask in the glory of it all.

However, the Bible also makes it quite clear that there will be an apocalyptic end to earth as we know it. We are clearly advised not to dwell on that, nor to try to figure out when it will be. It is unknowable. But we are told to be ready. Now that seems somewhat contradictory. Be ready for an event that you don't know when it will happen. It might not even happen in your life time, but be ready anyway. The more I thought about that, the more interesting a dilemma that produced for me. Being ready is not easy. Being ready means having in the back of my mind that at any moment it will be time, and my last moment on earth may be here. Will I have ended my sojourn speaking words of kindness or words of acrimony? Will I have had the last touch of a human being be one of gentleness and love, or one of cold harshness? Will I have been smiling in the last memory everyone will carry of me...or scowling? I don't know about you all, but I don't live life well with the assured conviction that it might be my last moment. Yet, I should. I should always treat others as though it were the last memory they would have of me....because it really could be, even if the whole world doesn't end. My world could end any time. Any of our worlds could.

And simultaneously with that certainty that the world will end and this is just a temporary home, the Bible reminds us that we are to live our lives fully. We are not supposed to just sit around moping, watching the sky for little winged animals with teeth like razors to come streaking from the gates of Hell. We are to live victoriously, as though we have all the promise of tomorrow. It is like living and working to bring my book to number one, just in time to have all the bookshelves annihilated.

How is this possible? To live in expectation of both abundant life and certain death? KIng Solomon went through a depressive episode where he said it was not possible. Hedonism was the only solution, for nothing had meaning if life were ultimately only to end in a puff of dust. However, Paul of the New Testament had a cheerier conclusion. He recognized death comes to all, but he also made a startling claim- "To die is gain." In dying to self, we become alive to the very presence of God.
Having a number one book will pale in the magnificent light of standing with all God's creation as one Spirit, striving together as one for His glory.

Still, if everyone reading this hurries and orders my book today, I might be catapulted to 35,000 best selling book, making my job of happily treating each possible moment as my last a whole lot easier.

Philippians 1:21-24, 27

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in the one Spirit, striving together as one for the faith of the gospel.

-Everything is possible with God

A Muzzle on my Mouth

2012-01-23T08:19:00.001-05:00

My new book is out and ready at Amazon.com (http://tinyurl.com/7fgvm4l ).
I wanted the e-book to come out simultaneously, but am having some trouble figuring out how to do it. Having illustrated this book, I have entered a level of complexity into the e-book process that I haven't dealt with yet. If doing new things prevents Alzheimer's, then for sure, I am safe. But I have a long way to go in perfecting my e-book skill. The publisher wrote back and said it was ready to review the e-book, but noticed I had not mentioned who the author was.
oops.
In some ways, that would've been better, to leave the author out of it. I talk about a lot of family and friends in this new book. I changed the names of all but my family, in case the people I wrote about didn't want to become famous. And I never used last names. Then I gave every member of my family a chance to read the book before I published it, in case they wanted to disown me. But the point is, writing books is frightening. Any good writer of necessity draws upon her own experiences, perceptions, prejudices, and biases; particularly in works of non-fiction. It opens up a whole world of readers to despise her. But to be dishonest or inauthentic in baring one's soul makes for boring reading. I feel the need to write burning in my soul. If not physically writing, my mind is continually narrating events, either real or flights of imagination. I don't know if everyone does that. It occurred to me only recently that perhaps everyone does not. I write as unconsciously as I breathe, and have since keeping journals when I was old enough to form letters. There is something very basic to what I am that yearns to express itself in written or artistic form.
I love what David of the Bible says when he stops speaking the Word of God. He holds his tongue for fear of sinning. As a result, he is filled with anguish in his soul. While believe me, I am not saying that I am on par with David, I do share his feeling when he squelches his outpourings to His heavenly Father. I think we are created for a purpose, and it is only by neglect, sin, or force that that purpose will not emerge. I think a great deal of damage on earth is done by thinking my purpose is identical to your purpose, or that somehow my purpose is more worthy. I am guilty of this kind of thinking far too often.
Perhaps the greatest adventure in life is finding what we were born to do, and then doing it with delight. Some people discover what that is at a young age, and some never seem to quite figure it out, but everyone was put here on earth with a plan and a purpose.
Maybe I should just keep the author name out of it, I thought, as I reviewed the e-book parameters. That would be cowardly, my soul whispered.
Perhaps my purpose is to be cowardly...? ok, ok, I will sign the author page.

Psalm 39: 1-7
I said, "I will watch my ways
and keep my tongue from sin;
I will put a muzzle on my mouth
while in the presence of the wicked." So I remained utterly silent,
not even saying anything good.
But my anguish increased; my heart grew hot within me.
While I meditated, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue: "Show me, Lord, my life's end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is. You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
even those who seem secure. "Surely everyone goes around like a mere phantom;
in vain they rush about, heaping up wealth
without knowing whose it will finally be. "But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.

-Everything is possible with God

Smile of God

2012-01-22T07:49:00.001-05:00

It was a rainy miserable day- cold and dark and wet. Yet something always brings a tinge of light to a dreary landscape. I called my old friend Comer who had been dreadfully sick. His entire Nursing Home was under quarantine with a flu so virulent that nearly every resident had it. I had talked with Comer two days ago and he had told me he was very bad off- very weak and hemorrhaging from all the bowel attacks over the past two weeks.
"Good grief, Comer, will they put you in the hospital?"
"If I am not better by tomorrow they will," he said, "They are watching me."
"You know, when I was nauseous last week, I had pineapple juice. It is supposed to be really good for nausea. It helped me. Would you like me to bring you some?"
"I love pineapple juice," he said, " I would be most obliged."
"I have a big can of it right here. Do you have a can opener?"
"I'm sure I can get one from the front office."
"Good, I'll leave it at the front desk for you tomorrow. I won't come see you since your hall is still filled with sick people. But maybe next week you will be all better and we can all go out."
So I called the front desk, made sure they had a can opener, and then finished proofing the final copy of my new book. It was the second proof I had reviewed, so had, as far as I could find, no errors. I contacted the publishers and told them to go ahead. The book, God Drives a Tow Truck, should be up at Amazon in a day or two. It will be at extended sites, like Barnes and Nobles.com within a few weeks.
"I may as well send this proof to Comer. It is a book of miracles and it sounds like he needs one," I thought, so I put it in the bag with the pineapple juice.

Yesterday, I drove the juice and book to the Nursing Home. I noticed the quarantine sign was off the door.
"This is for Comer," I told the receptionist,"I see the building is no longer quarantined."
"The sign just came down," she said.
"You have a can opener he can borrow, correct?"
"Yes," she said, "I will bring this to him right away."

Later that day, I got a call from Comer. He sounded like his old self, his voice strong again, and with inflection, like he wanted to live.
"I didn't know you wrote another book!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," I said, "I am working on a third as well."
"Well I am already a third of the way through. It is very fine writing. I don't know anyone who writes like you do."
"Oh Comer, thank you! You sound great, by the way. How do you feel?"
"I feel so much better!" he said.
"Did you have the pineapple juice?"
"Sure did! My that was delicious."
"Good, they got you a can opener?"
"No, I opened it myself."
I paused. I knew he didn't have a can opener as he had already mentioned that.
"How did you open it?"
"With my little hammer."
I burst into laughter. The vision of a 93 year old man pounding on the top of a large tin can to smash it open filled my brain.
"Did you have a nail or something?"
"No, I pounded the screwdriver and poked two holes."
"You must be feeling a lot better," I said.
"I am! So I'm drinking my pineapple juice and reading your book."
"Sounds like a nice way to spend a rainy day."
"But is this the book you were telling me about...I thought you told me about another book."
"No, this is the one. It is a book about miracles."
"That, it surely is," he said.
"So the hemorrhaging has stopped?"
"Yes it has."

I learned this morning that my sister, Holly, and her Science Olympiad team of one third the size of a normal team had won the "Spirit Award" at a Chicago competition. And her own son placed first in his event. I know she had taken on coaching this group despite the fact that she did not have any particular skill or love of science. She did it because if she didn't, they wouldn't have a team. She stepped in where she saw a need. How lovely to see blessings flow from such selflessness.

I thought about what is the most important thing, if we could choose only one, that we ought to be teaching our children. Holly's story captivated me so much because I think she is managing to instill in her children and those around her that the most important thing we can do is love God by loving others, and sometimes to do so sacrificially. Most of us won't earn any spirit award, at least not here on earth. But blessings flow when we love others, and troubles seem less troubling. Grey skies seem tinged with color. We can almost see the smile of God.

Romans 12:10
Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another

-Everything is possible with God

Never Despise the Day of Small Things

2012-01-21T10:28:00.001-05:00

When we were skiing Thursday, I was freezing. I lose 2 pounds every time I ski. No kidding. My body seems to struggle mightily in the cold. My eyes were gluing shut with little icicles and my fingertips were starting to drop off the planet. I decided in the interest of preservation of my flesh, I should pop in the ski shop at the lodge and see if it was too ridiculously priced for me to find a solution.

I walked in and a very cheery saleswoman greeted me. I have had a string of good experiences with customer service lately. I wonder if my own attitude has anything to do with it. I have been practicing being nice to sales people.

"May I help you?" she asked.
I pointed to the dripping icecubes that used to be my best feature.
"These eyes are supposed to be open," I said, "Do you have a suggestion?"
They were beginning to thaw out and I blinked my eyelids apart.
"How about ski goggles?"
"Yes.... do you have any that are not too expensive?"
She handed me her least expensive pair.
"How about these? They are just $30."
I took them, "That is still a little more than I wanted to spend."
I put them on. She looked at me, while I could read in her face a question. I was pretty sure she was thinking : You are one big cheapskate.
"What do you think?" I asked, turning towards her with the $30 goggles.
"I think you need youth size...." she said.
"I want to be an adult..." I said, "Just once. Sigh. Really? Even in goggles I need the pair with the Mickey Mouse princess on them?"
"They are only $20."
"Sold! Don't bother to wrap them. I will wear them out of here. Do you think I would fit into really warm youth gloves too?"
"I would bet my life on it."
"Good, throw those in too. Are they also cheap?"
"Yep. You are lucky that you are so small. Did your mother smoke?"
Ok, that last statement was made up, but all the rest was true.

Sometimes, we think we are cursed with detriments to normalcy, like the smallest head in a graduating senior class of 431. But sometimes it can be turned around and become at times, your greatest asset. Never despise any part of God's creation. He can use anything.

I returned to the ski slope decked out in my youth sized helmet, goggles, and face mask. I heard several people say, "Awwww, isn't that cute how well she skis for a toddler!" (OK, I made that up too, but you get the point.)

He will bless them that fear the Lord, both small and great. (Psalm 115:13 KJV)

-Everything is possible with God

Doing the Right Thing

2012-01-20T07:56:00.002-05:00

I do not handle chaos, confusion, or crowds well. So don't ask me why I organized the Charlotte home skiers group to bring each week to Sugar Mountain. It is all those C words mentioned above, and more. On top of that, in case I don't feel adequate stress to be sure a whole crew is safe and happy, I brought a group of 4 kids in my car yesterday. Only 1 was my own kid, so now I could quadruple my concerns over broken, mangled body parts.

Fortunately they are a great group of kids, and while it is not really easy being in charge, they are as good as they could be. Largely, once the first hour madness of getting everyone on the slope is over, I don't see them again till mealtime. Well, I see them, since we all are on the easy slope. On occasion, I go to the intermediate slope, but I like the beginner slope better since I suspect I would sustain fewer broken bones at 20 mph as opposed to 40 mph. The kids stay on the beginner slope. Anyway, everything was wonderful and without mishap, and every time I saw the kids, they were smiling and laughing, and snowboarding quite well.

I had told them to meet again in the lodge at 7:30 so we could return our rentals and be on the way home by 8. I told them not to get on a ski lift after 7:20. I was throughly enjoying the beautiful empty slopes of night skiing, but noticed after 7 pm, I hadn't seen the kids in a while. Usually I see them from the chair lift skiing down, or while I am skiing, I see them in the chairlift. It must just be because it is dark and I have missed them, I thought.

I returned to the lodge at 7:30. No kids yet. I wasn't worried because I was sure they had gotten on the ski lift at 7:21, thinking a minute wouldn't matter. At 7:40 they came tumbling into the lodge. They all had bright red cheeks, and Asherel had a tinge of green to her as well. Her eyes looked a little wild, and there was a look of perhaps terror lurking in her expression.

"We went to the top of the mountain!" they blurted out. Now I knew that the black diamond runs were at the top of the mountain- the trails that only people who have completely severed all neurons that travel to the section of the brain where rational thought occurs. Only Olympic skiers or serious lunatics go to the top of the mountain.
"You are kidding," I said, I hoped, I prayed.
Asherel shook her head weakly, "No we really did."
"By accident," cried Ben.
"You went to the top of the whole mountain?" I asked.
They all nodded.
"By accident," said Daniel.
"And we all skied down it, and none of us are dead," said one of them.
"By accident?" I asked.
"Well," explained Daniel, "Leo told us that if we went up the middle chair lift, there was an intermediate slope. We had already been on the bottom of the intermediate slope, so we knew we could do it. So we all got on the chair lift. Asherel and Alex were in the front, and then me and Ben, and then Leo was in the last chair. So we reached the middle of the slope where we were supposed to get off the chair lift at the first stop...but Asherel and Alex stayed on, so we thought they were being brave and wanted to get off at the second stop. But then they didn't get off, and the next stop was the top of the mountain."
"Why didn't you get off, Asherel?"
"We missed it. We just didn't notice till it was too late."
"And then we started freaking out," said Alex. She and Asherel exchanged glances.
"I told Daniel, we better get off at that first chairlift stop anyway, where we were supposed to," said Ben, "Cause I was already getting nervous."
"But," said Daniel, "I was terrified, but I told him, we can't let them go up there alone. We better stay with them."
"You're right...." said Ben, though he figured the older and wiser (and instigator of this dilemma) Leo, would probably stay with them, and frankly, he was not thrilled to be falling on the sword for the girls who were responsible for putting the boys in this sticky situation.

When the got off at the top of the mountain, I am told Asherel was repeating over and over again, "Why am I here? What am I doing here on top of this mountain?" All the kids told me they were all petrified. Ben noticed that while there were runs marked with the dreaded Black Diamond, there was one run marked with a blue diamond- for intermediate level skiers that would take them to the bottom.
"We just stay on the Blue trail," said Ben.

Asherel is actually a very good snowboarder, but at the top of the mountain,
she was not filled with her usual confidence.
"I braked the whole way down," she said.
Leo and Daniel stayed with her. They would careen down a little ways, and then turn back and wait, shouting encouragement. Ben and Alex went on ahead, as braking takes enormous energy and even skill, and they are newer to the sport than even Asherel.
"Were you scared?" I asked Daniel.
"We were petrified!" he said.
"But we did it," they said, "And we didn't even wipe out."

I thought of how the boys, with less experience than the girls in the lift in front of them had overcome rational thought, and immense fear to do the right thing.

"You should have seen it, Mom," said Asherel, "It was a really beautiful view from the top of the mountain."

Yes, I could imagine it was. The view of courage and righteousness is always beautiful.

As we drove home, the kids still high on adrenaline sang "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" all the way to the end. It took about a half an hour. As they finished, one kid shouted, "Again!"
"No," I said, "I think I have reached my limit."
(But Praise God for the limitless spirit of those kids singing in my car, I thought, and God's limitless mercy in protecting them and honoring their courage.)

Joshua 2:11-13, 22-24
11 When we heard the news we lost our courage and no one could even breathe for fear of you. For the LORD your God is God in heaven above and on earth below!
12 So now, promise me this with an oath sworn in the LORD's name. Because I have shown allegiance to you, show allegiance to my family. Give me a solemn pledge
13 that you will spare the lives of my father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all who belong to them, and rescue us from death."
22 They went to the hill country and stayed there for three days, long enough for those chasing them to return. Their pursuers looked all along the way but did not find them.
23 Then the two men returned - they came down from the hills, crossed the river, came to Joshua son of Nun, and reported to him all they had discovered.
24 They told Joshua, "Surely the LORD is handing over all the land to us!

-Everything is possible with God

Instruction Manuals

2012-01-19T08:01:00.001-05:00

Settling down with my new iPad, I felt like Lewis and Clark. Here was a world I knew little about, and was about to explore all by myself. I had foraged through all the easy stuff. Now it was time to tackle the real reason for buying the iPad. Even my computer guru Brian had emailed asking if I had tried the word processing program yet. I had had the iPad nearly one full day and only had a 2 week trial period. If the word processing application stank (or is that stunk...? I can never get that one right.), then I would have to return the iPad, even though I had already downloaded 8,000 photos onto it successfully over the course of several hours. I wrote my guru back, "Not yet. I am still trying to figure out how to delete email, or find the back button." The guru left me alone, at that point, likely deciding that if I still hadn't found the back button, then maybe technology like the iPad was not the right venture for this writer. Maybe writing with my finger in wet sand would be more my speed.

However, undeterred, I decided to plunge on, although frankly, I never did find the back button. It is there for some applications, but not for others. First I read over the help manual for Pages, which is the word app I had bought. I only read over the manual in a cursory way. I like to fiddle with things to figure them out, and noting the success of finding the back button, you can see how well that works for me. I was surprised that the day before, when I had spoken with 4 different Apple Care advisors about the things that confused me with my new iPad, every one of them ended the discussion telling me that they were sending me the free download for the iPad manual. Even Asherel walked by and suggested I borrow Grandpa's IPad for Dummies book.

O Ye of little faith!

I read just enough of the manual to get me started. My second book is in review right now and should be published by next week. I have been waiting for the iPad to work more on book #3 because working at the desk computer hurts my wrists. I found that working with a small keyboard on my lap, seemed not to aggravate the swollen tendonitis in both wrists. So I first discovered, totally by accident, that with one button, I could send my document directly to Pages. And then I began playing with it all afternoon.
One of my criteria for a great word processing app to write my book is that it be able to number the pages. I know that seems like a little thing, but it is the one aspect of writing that I can always have just the right word for: 1, 2, 3, etc. I count as well as Shakespeare, so I wanted that capability desperately. Not a single word processor for the Galaxy tab I had returned allowed for pagination.
"Yes but Mom, this one will," Asherel told me confidently.
"How do you know?"
"Mom, it is called Pages."

So I fiddled and fumbled and could not put pages on my document. My heart was breaking. My needs in life are really quite small. A haircut that makes my little head appear human, comfortable shoes that don't make my children laugh at me, and a word processing document that lets me number pages. There are a few others, but those loom large in my daily life.

I was ready to call Apple Care and tell those nice young advisors that while they had been the best customer service employees I had ever known, I would need to return the iPad and sever our burgeoning relationship. And then, I did a last ditch maneuver, a desperate maneuver even. I read the instructions. And in those instructions there is a section labeled, "Numbering Pages."

You may be laughing. Don't worry. I am used to being ridiculed. But I would hazard a guess that many of us never touch the greatest instruction manual ever written. Or if we do, we give it a cursory glance and presume we know enough to get on with life. I am always struck by the magnitude of exaltation the psalmists seem to possess when they write about the Bible as a guide. It is described as a path, a light, a delight, truth, and even Love.

"I did it!" I cried out, and my family looked my way.
I leaped from my chair and swirled joyfully.
"I can number pages! We will keep the iPad!"

Psalm 119:105
"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my soul."

-Everything is possible with God

Rude worse than Stupid

2012-01-18T09:40:00.001-05:00

I got the replacement for my wonderful Christmas gift. The Galaxy Tab wouldn't work out for me as on God's green earth, there is not a single adequate word processing application for android operating systems. In English, this means I cannot write my books on it. This is a deal breaker since I hope to become a rich and famous author, and unfortunately, one must write books to do that.

So, I got my new iPad (actually a refurb, but it looks new at a fraction of the cost) and spent several hours trying to figure it out. I found that the easiest way to figure hard things out is to have other people do it for me. So I called Apple Care. Apple Care is the phone support for all Apple products, and the employees are chosen by one of the most rigorous methods known to business. Prospective employees are dangled above 16 foot great white sharks and then must answer a mock customer call. The customer has an IQ of 10, and has never touched a computer before. In fact, the customer doesn't even know how to spell computer. The potential Apple Care employee is tested on how patiently and kindly he responds to every inane question the mock customer poses. If the shark is not very good at leaping, and the Apple Care potential employee remains considerate throughout the entire phone call, he moves on to step number two of the culling process.

In that phase of employee selection, the potential employee is put in a tub of boiling oil. Now a mock belligerent customer calls him, and berates him for being the biggest lunkhead on earth, and asks repeatedly why his iPad cannot fix dinner and then wash the dishes afterwards? If the potential employee is still patiently responding as though Mr. Belligerent was not the most obnoxious animal of the human race, then he is hired. Of course, this would only be if the skin grafts are successful.

So while I do see issues with the iPad, I will likely keep it just to talk to those nice young employees at Apple Care. They are unfailingly gentle, even when I ask the most ridiculously ignorant things. Not only did they talk me through the iPad set up for hours, but they even helped me fix some of the issues on my desktop computer. I asked one of them, "I hope you are a father, because you have the patience that is needed to raise children."
"I'm a grandfather of 8!" he said.
"Good for you!"

Then I had to call back because I had not yet managed to make any Apple Care employee run screaming and naked into the wilderness. The next young man helping me was even more patient than the grandfather.
"You must get extensive training in working with...well, people like me. I don't want to use the word 'ignorant' but...." (I fear I may have to in all honesty....)
"Oh, believe me," he said, "I have worked with alot of people and you are definitely not the bottom of the barrel."
My self esteem must be sorely in need of stroking considering the glow that comment put on me. I am not the bottom of the barrel!
"To tell you the truth," he said, "I don't mind stupid. My hackles go up with rude though."
I thought about my typical response to frustration with computers and with authorities trying to help me in this foreign language of informational technology. I am not only stupid, but am very loathe to admit, often rude.
However, because I had been praised as being not the bottom of the barrel, not even close, I spent 2 hours on the phone, and smiled, and laughed and endured enormous frustration pleasantly because someone believed I could.

The verse on my daily reading on my computer was from the book of Mark chapter 9. Jesus has just been greeted by a desperate father whose son is demon possessed. The father begs Jesus to exorcise the demon. Jesus answers the father with one of my favorite mottos to live by- " Everything is possible for one who believes."
"I do believe," exclaims the father,"Help my unbelief!"
With those words, Jesus works His miracle and saves the boy, and extracts the demon from his soul.

The Apple Care employee, as we entered our second hour of trying to figure out how to download 8,000 photos to my iPad told me, "Hang in there. We almost have it! Do you believe we can do this tonight?"
"I do believe," I cried, "Help my unbelief.

-Everything is possible with God

Cheap Grace

2012-01-17T07:49:00.000-05:00

My one home treatment for BPPV, or vertigo, had been very effective, but there was still a lingering nausea. Just a teeny weeny bit. So I decided I needed a second treatment. After all, the literature said that I was to do the procedure 5 times in each set, three times a day till the symptoms were gone. I had only done it 3 times in one set, because it caused temporary increase in nausea and at heart, I am a wimp. But, feeling almost within grasp of total normalcy, I decided to risk the temporary discomfort for the permanent blessing that would ensue.

According to the literature, I had a choice of two treatment techniques. One was gentler, but not quite as effective. One was described as intense, but highly effective. I am an extremist, thus guess which one I chose? I followed the set requirements to the t this time. (What does it mean "to the T"? T is not the end...Z is. Why don't we follow it to the Z?) As it turns out, I didn't follow it to the Z. I could only get 4 sets in before I felt so violently nauseous that I decided to terminate treatment immediately and abandon ship. I struggled to the recliner where my worried husband found me and suggested I drink gatorade. He is a good man, and indeed Gatorade is highly desired when one's electrolyte balance is off. However, when one has just screwed up the semicircular canals in the vestibular system, there is no magic drink that will solve the issue.

"I should've done the gentler treatment," I groaned. I then developed a splitting headache, and photophobia. I thought perhaps I had misdiagnosed myself and I had the flu or a brain tumor. I went on line and discovered that the technique I had used can set off migraines. Best to use the gentler technique called the Epley technique. Then I read how the technique is reversed depending on which ear the little errant crystal is bobbing around loose in the vestibular system. OOPs. I knew the errant ear was the left ear, but I had done the treatment on the right ear. You can tell which ear is the culprit as the dizziness is most severe when you lay on the bad ear side. So, I decided to go for broke. I took instructions for the Epley gentler maneuver and did it for the correct ear. This time, the nausea subsided, and today, I feel fine.

I thought about how similar all of life is to this little vignette, this snapshot of my day. Life is often glorious, but none of us get through it without at times, extreme discomfort. We sometimes settle for quick fixes, that don't really address the malady...or even make it worse! We look to the wrong cure to get out of the mess quickly, but we don't find the source of eternal health. At least I do. Friedrich Bonhoeffer called this tendency in the spiritual life, "cheap grace." We want the blessing, but we don't want the sacrifice or work that comes with it.
Our worship becomes perfunctory, and as quick as possible so we can feel virtuous without putting in too much effort. Our prayers become rote. Our passion becomes lukewarm.

Guilty, I admit, shaking my head sadly.
Ooops, don't shake too hard or you will undo all that treatment to put the floating crystal back where it belongs.

2 Samuel 24:23-25

²³ Your Majesty, Araunahgives all this to the king.” Araunah also said to him, “May the LORD your God accept you.”
²⁴ But the king replied to Araunah, “No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the LORD my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”
So David bought the threshing floor and the oxen and paid fifty shekel of silver for them. ²⁵ David built an altar to the LORD there and sacrificed burnt offerings and fellowship offerings. Then the LORD answered his prayer in behalf of the land, and the plague on Israel was stopped.

One Easy Cure

2012-01-16T07:34:00.000-05:00

     I noticed a vague dizziness washing over me while I was running errands.
     This could be hunger, I thought, though having polished off the Chinese take out leftoves, that is not likely.
     It could be the flu, but while Asherel is sick today, she doesn't have a fever and it looks like just a bad cold.
     It could be disgust with the human condition, the depravity and lack of respect of life that leads people to do despicable things leaving us sensitive souls mourning and crying out to God for justice and relief.
     But no, while I did feel this way after listening to some particularly heinous crimes on the radio, I often have that reaction to my fellow beings, and I am not always dizzy.
     Ohoh. I realized I might very well be having an episode of that unpronounceable disease that basically means, when translated from latin: Dizzy.
     When I got home, it was clear that the unpronounceable disease was the culprit. I ate dinner at 2:00 to rule out hunger. All that did was make me feel guilty, and stuffed, but still dizzy, with the added downer of no dinner to look forward to. I remembered that there was a simple procedure I had once found online which claimed to instantly cure 95 % of the dizzy people out there. But I could not remember the name of my malady to do an internet search. I sat swaying at the computer and typed in the search bar the two letters I remembered: BP.
    Praise God for my intelligent computer! It instantly read my mind and finished my thought. BPPV appeared on the screen- Benign Parosysmal Positional Vertigo. I clicked on the section titled: Treatment.

    There were four different treatment procedures. It was recommended that two of the four only be done in the safety of a doctor's office so the patient would have a professional to catch him when he keeled over. I chose the "home treatment" procedure. It looked simple enough. It said it was demanding but effective in 95% of the cases. The patient sits on the edge of a bed, lies down quickly to one side with the head upturned at approx. a 45 degree angle. The patient lies there while waves of intense dizziness wash over him for 30 seconds. Then he sits up for 30 seconds, unless of course, the intense dizziness has made him crash to the hard wood floor, since he didn't listen to the advice to do this in the safety of a doctor's office the first time, and at that point, treatment is discontinued til he returns from the hospital where a plastic surgeon has repaired the damage done to his face. If by some chance, the patient remains upright, he goes on to step 3. He quickly lies down to the other side, head at that same upturned position, again waits out 30 seconds of wanting to puke while the world spins, and then sits back up. This is repeated for 5 sets, or 10 minutes.
     I'm game! I printed the instructions and went to my bedroom where the floor is carpeted. I was only feeling a little dizzy, but when I did step two, I was feeling a lot dizzy, By step 4, I was ready to go be with Jesus in Heaven. However, I swallowed my nausea and did 5 sets...or maybe only 3 sets. I lost count because my eyes were rolling in my head and I was pretty sure I would not be filling out my application for Dancing with the Stars that evening.
     Now I was to sit upright for 2 days with my head no lower than 45 degrees to horizontal. Forget that, I thought, but I will try to remain upright for the next couple of hours. Within a few minutes, the dizziness was gone....completely gone. I am supposed to repeat this treatment twice a day every day until all symptoms are gone. Since one treatment did it, I may just call it quits while I am ahead.
     If only all life's problems were solved so quickly, so neatly! Poor Asherel was still sniffling with watery eyes and the glazed look of a suffering sickie. My wrists are still in braces after two solid weeks, and still not painfree as I am attempting home treatment to avoid carpal tunnel surgery. And very sadly, the poor body found behind the dumpster yesterday at Chickfila of a young, pregnant woman is not going to find a cure here on earth. Struggles and troubles are everpresent. Sometimes we are transported instantly from our afflictions, as in the BPPV treatment, but most of the time we share the sentiment of Jephthah, who cried out ,
“I and my people were engaged in a great struggle ..., and although I called, you didn’t save me out of their hands" (Judges 12:2). But Jephthah had called out to the wrong source. He had called out to supposed friends, who in the end, were of no use in saving him. He recognized his mistake and finished by calling out to God who alone could secure victory. The hardest part for we mortal humans is to understand that when we call out, the victory is sometimes not instant, and sometimes not apparent this side of Heaven. And we better be sure that the one we are calling out to is the One who can help us.
   "Well, Miss Smartypants, what kind of a victory is one you can't see or enjoy, or that is delayed til you are dead and gone? You have a funny definition of victory." The little creature that speaks to me when I get too full of myself was tapping on my head, then snapped her hands on her waist, waiting for my response.
     "I don't know. I just know that hope deferred doesn't mean hope denied. Maybe we don't know what we are really fighting for. Maybe we are victorious just by staying in the battle."
     "That is easy for you to say, with one home treatment and you are good as new."
     "Yes," I admitted, "You are right about that."

Psalm 20:
¹ May the LORD answer you when you are in distress;
   may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.
² May he send you help from the sanctuary
   and grant you support from Zion.
³ May he remember all your sacrifices
   and accept your burnt offerings.
⁴ May he give you the desire of your heart
   and make all your plans succeed.
⁵ May we shout for joy over your victory
   and lift up our banners in the name of our God.
   May the LORD grant all your requests.
⁶ Now this I know:
   The LORD gives victory to his anointed.
He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary
   with the victorious power of his right hand.
⁷ Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
   but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

No Trifling Hardship in His Eyes

2012-01-15T08:29:00.000-05:00

When my old friend from the Nursing home answered the phone, his speech was slurred and he sounded awful.
"Comer! How are you?"
"Awful!"
"You don't sound so good!"
"No, it is the flu. The whole building is quarantined."
"So I guess our lunch outing is off this week? I am so sorry! Next week you will be better and we will go then."
"That would be good," he said, "I really need a milkshake with all the weight I have lost."
"Well I will call you at the end of the week and see how you are doing."
I got off the phone and hurried to get Asherel to her volunteer work at the horse farm. Driving home, I thought how happy it would make Comer for me to bring him and his dear wife Evelyn a milkshake. That is the favorite part of their outings with me. They suck down milkshakes as though cows were about to be extinct.

I pulled into the Chickfila that was on my way towards Comer's home. Giant news trucks were on every corner. Reporters were being filmed shivering in the cold, with a cordoned off Chickfila behind them. Police vans and cars littered the parking lot, along with an ambulance. Crime scene tape completely encircled the building and adjoining lots.
"Hmmm," I thought, "Chickfila does not look open for business."
I rounded the corner to Wendys, bought the milkshakes, and asked, "What's going on at Chickfila?"
The two young men at the register exchanged glances, "It's closed for renovation."
Now I may be naive, but I know renovations do not require crime scene tape, policemen, ambulances. Nor do they merit on the spot news reporting.
"What else is going on at Chickfila?" I asked.
They laughed, "Well, we heard they found a dead body in the parking lot."
"Oh! Well that is not the wisest renovation strategy," I said.

I drove on with my milkshakes to Comer's nursing home. A huge sign was plastered on the door:
"Quarantined by order of Mecklenburg Health Administration. If you enter, please report to receptionist for decontamination information."
I gathered the milkshakes, and took a deep breath of fresh air. Then I barreled to the receptionist.
"These are for Comer and Evelyn," I said, trying not to breathe. Then I scurried out.

Death and disease. What a day, I thought. Good thing my Bible reading is in such an optimistic book. I had highlighted and read Chapter 9 of Nehemiah twice. In that wonderful chapter, Nehemiah is recounting all that God has done, and how His people mess up time after time after time. And yet, the wonder and joy of God is that He is a God of mercy, and time after time after time, He forgives. Even more remarkably, He restores.

"Did I wash my hands after leaving the Nursing home?" I thought. EEEEk! I raced to the faucet and scrubbed for 10 minutes. God will restore, but it is always best to do our part too....

Nehemiah 9: 29-33

²⁹ “You warned them in order to turn them back to your law, but they became arrogant and disobeyed your commands. They sinned against your ordinances, of which you said, ‘The person who obeys them will live by them.’ Stubbornly they turned their backs on you, became stiff-necked and refused to listen. ³⁰ For many years you were patient with them. By your Spirit you warned them through your prophets. Yet they paid no attention, so you gave them into the hands of the neighboring peoples. ³¹ But in your great mercy you did not put an end to them or abandon them, for you are a gracious and merciful God.
³² “Now therefore, our God, the great God, mighty and awesome, who keeps his covenant of love, do not let all this hardship seem trifling in your eyes—the hardship that has come on us, on our kings and leaders, on our priests and prophets, on our ancestors and all your people, from the days of the kings of Assyria until today. ³³ In all that has happened to us, you have remained righteous; you have acted faithfully, while we acted wickedly.

Not the time for weeping

2012-01-14T08:02:00.000-05:00

The boy glanced at me with a worried look on his face as he tossed the ball to Shadow, the black lab. My dogs love Shadow and whenever we pass his yard, they stop to have peeing contests with each other. I knew Shadow's owners had two small children, not a teenage boy. The boy looked kind, and vaguely familiar, but I knew he didn't own Shadow and wondered why he was in the fenced yard.

As soon as my dogs hurried over to greet Shadow, the boy blurted out, "I feel so sorry for him...he's always alone. I came over to play with him."
"That's very kind of you," I said, "I'm sure he appreciates it."
"I come over after school whenever I can. He seems lonely."
Shadow barked as the boy tossed the ball across the yard. The boy relaxed now that I was not going to report him to the police for climbing into a yard that was not his own.

We chatted a little longer and then I went on my way. I was filled with a joyful hope for the future. I thought of my emails back and forth with my dad. He is buying an electric car because he is convinced that we are about to lose access to gas and he is buying the cute little car "for survival." I suspect he just really wants the cute little car, and the survival tact makes the purchase fly with my mom, but the whole doom and gloom scenario had made me a little depressed. What kind of a world would my children be growing up into? It does sometimes look bleak.

There have always been bleak times. As I mentioned, I am in one of my favorite Bible books, Nehemiah, and before the Jews began rebuilding Jerusalem, they cried, "How can we build with all this rubble?" The walls were fallen, the buildings smashed, and before they could even begin to rebuild, they had to clear away the debris. Talk about hopeless! But Nehemiah was an optimist, and a leader, and a man who loved God. He not only oversaw the rebuilding of the city, but when it was all done, he set his people down and read to them from the dusty Book of the Law, the scriptures, that they had forgotten. The people wept because they had neglected God for so long. I love what Nehemiah told them- "Now is not the time for weeping! Now we have God's word again- it is a time for rejoicing, for moving forward, for hoping!" (PS- this is a paraphrase, but you should read Nehemiah and check it out. You cannot read that book and come away sad.)

I watched Shadow playing with that wonderful boy as we continued on our walk, and the worries about gas and my childrens' futures dissipated a little.
"Now is not the time for weeping," I thought, "We have God's word. Now is the time for rejoicing."

Nehemiah 8:10
Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength

Start Rebuilding

2012-01-13T07:57:00.000-05:00

I am waiting for my wrists to heal. I can't work too long on the computer because it makes them hurt. Waiting to heal from any infirmity is not easy. Life goes on hold. What used to be simple tasks, like unloading the dishwasher become unscalable walls. So I wear my double wrist braces and sometimes just sit, gazing into space. Most of what I do requires wrist movement, I have discovered.

I have a friend who is battling cancer. It has been a long process, and things are looking good right now, but it has not been easy. Today I noticed in her update about her radiation treatments, she closed asking if we would all pray for a friend of hers who has just been diagnosed with cancer. Here she is battling a horrific enemy, and she has the compassion and empathy to divert focus from herself to others who need help. That is a woman of God.

I am reading the book of Nehemiah right now. I love Nehemiah. He is someone who just ignores the enemy, keeps his focus on God, and keeps struggling through impossible odds. Nehemiah is not one of the well known heroes of the Bible, but he is one of my favorites. He was cupbearer to the King of Persia, during the exile of the Jews to Babylonia in the 5th century BC. He was in a position of influence and favoritism. But he was a Jew, and when he learned of the condition of his historic homeland, he asked the King's permission to return to Jerusalem, and rebuild the city and the crumbling walls surrounding it. The King grants permission. Nehemiah could have taxed the people to help with the repairs, or had special food and comfort for himself as an emissary of the King, but instead, he throws his lot in with his people and has no special favors for himself. He looks around at a ruined city, a devastated, ransacked, crumbling city and says, "Let us start building."

And then, the enemy comes while Nehemiah and his small ragtag remnant of Jews are rebuilding the walls. The enemy taunts them from just outside the wall; tries to undermine the people's faith in Nehemiah and his God. The enemy includes the armies of Samaria, and they threaten attack, urging the Jews to stop rebuilding, join the enemy, and leave this crazy leader asking help from a deity everyone knows will never rise out of their imagination to be of any true service. The people are weary, and poor, and the work seems impossible from the get go. The enemy is wearing them down. But Nehemiah then utters the rallying cry that I find myself calling out in my soul over and over when life bears down a little too violently:
The God of heaven will give us success.

The people rally, the wall is rebuilt, in an impossible 52 days. The Jews begin to trickle back to Jerusalem. The lagging faith of a beleaguered people is fanned into flame, and hope begins to rekindle in the hearts of the exiled Jews when they learn Jerusalem is rebuilt!

Meanwhile, I look at my braced wrists, and realize one thing I can do without my wrists. I can pray.

Nehemiah 2:20
I answered them by saying, "The God of heaven will give us success. We his servants will start rebuilding,

The Middle C

2012-01-12T08:03:00.000-05:00

On this day in 1928, one of the most beloved magnificent pianists of all time made his appearance in the United States. Contrary to what you may suspect based on my picture, it was not my son. It could have been, had he decided to pursue that career. I am convinced of this, as every mother is who knows greatness and obscurity for their progeny is only a matter of choice. But in this case, the pianist was Vladamir Horowitz. I have a very special place in my heart for Vladamir Horowitz, but not because of his piano playing. I love Horowitz because of his piano, and my son in the picture actually did touch greatness on the Horowitz piano.

My boy Anders was 5 years old, and quite precocious on the piano. He started lessons at age 4, and had already garnered interest in our community with his exceptional talent in music. I used to have to force him to stop practicing, and go outside and play.

One day, we went to his lesson, which was in a Steinway piano showroom, and the parking lot was mobbed. News trucks were there, and reporters were hauling gear out of them.
"What's going on?" I asked Jim, Anders' teacher.
"The Horowitz piano is here," he said.
"Is Horowitz here too?" I said, for even the musical neanderthal that I was, knew that Horowitz was an exceptional pianist.
"No," said Jim, "Horowitz is dead."
"Ah, that would make travel for him difficult....so what is his piano doing here without him?"
"The piano is perhaps the most famous Steinway of all time, and it is on tour."
"The piano is on tour...all by itself?"
"Over there," said Jim, leading us to the sparkling piano roped off in a corner. Then he dropped down on his knee in front of Anders and asked, "Would you like to play it?"
Anders looked at the huge, gleaming piano, and the crowds of people and reporters. He shrugged his shoulders.
"It is perhaps the greatest piano in the world," urged Jim.
"Ok," said Anders.

Jim took his hand and led him to the piano. A few reporters began taping as they saw the small boy being seated on the beautiful piano bench. Jim put a small stool under Anders' feet, which did not reach the floor.
Then Anders began to play. I don't remember any more what he played that momentous day. I wonder if he does. The newsmen rolled their tape while my little boy played the most famous piano of all time, whose keys had once been stroked by the most famous pianist of all time.
When he finished, the crowd clapped and Jim helped him off the seat.
"What did you think?" asked a reporter. We all looked at the little prodigy, anxious to hear his enthusiastic portrayal of this high honor that had been bestowed upon such a small child.
He paused, as he often does before speaking and a hush spread over the crowd. Finally, after much thought, he said, "The middle C is flat."

I sent a note to an art student yesterday and mentioned to her that I felt she had enormous talent, and I suggested she enter a certain contest. She wrote back that she values my critiques in art class, and knows I would never say something that wasn't true to her. She says she takes all my encouragements, and my criticisms to heart. That comment really struck me. One should never ever give false critique, I thought, good or bad.

And I thought of God. I often squirm in church . We have a very godly pastor, who is unashamed of the Gospel or of its often hard truths. I am often chastised in my soul for how little I truly follow and love the Creator of the Universe. I don't love feeling that way, conviction of sin is rarely fun....However, I am certain the Pastor speaks out of heartfelt sincerity, love, and truth. I don't like being told my middle C is flat, but I will never create the music in my soul it was meant to create if that key is out of tune.

Galatians 5:9
⁹ “A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough.”

Psalm 108: 1
¹ My heart, O God, is steadfast;
I will sing and make music with all my soul.

A Square on the Grid

2012-01-11T07:12:00.000-05:00

     Once again, rain has moved in over the mountains with malice aforethought. (We are studying the Civil War and so words Lincoln might have used are creeping in to my blog.) It is slowly disintegrating the snow base on the ski mountain, and the homeschool ski trip I organized for tomorrow is likely being buried in slush. Meanwhile, one of Asherel's good friends has been felled by the flu this week. And then my old friend, Comer, from the Nursing home called to tell me our outing for lunch had to be postponed. Not only was he sick with the flu, but his entire floor of residents has been quarantined. It is apparently a nasty bug with a policy of equal opportunity that preys on victims indiscriminately: Young and old, rich or poor, wrinkled or smooth.
     I teach my art class today. I am doing a very basic knowledge class on overlaying the subject matter with a grid. Everyone in public school probably is taught to do that- I know I was. But I don't think I have ever taught my homeschoolers to do that. I thought to do it when I saw a spectacular portrait of my sister that her son had done...in lego blocks. He had taken a photograph and made a grid on it, and then used the grid to help him design his unbelievably accurate lego portrait. I hate to use the grid approach myself- it is tedious and mathematical. My brain doesn't easily wrap around either. However, it is highly effective in drawing exact reproductions, and there are times when one wants to do that.

But as I was contemplating the likely cancelled snow day due to rain, and the cancelled lunch outing due to flu, I thought how so often, we only see from the perspective of one square on the entire grid. From our portion of the whole picture, it might seem like the artist has an incomplete, or even faulty vision. It is sometimes nearly impossible to envision the whole from a tiny segment. It won't look like a masterpiece until every grid is filled to be the best segment of the whole that it can be.

As I was wading through lists of kings, and geneologies in the book of 1 and 2Chronicles in the Bible, I could not help my eyes glazing and my interest lagging. But for some reason, each name is in there for a purpose, one I am not always privy to. Each seemingly insignificant unpronounceable name is there because it represents a person who had value and purpose and was one more square on the grid.

I am a square on the grid! The whole picture is not up to me! I only need to be the best square I can be, and I am pretty sure my kids would attest that I am as square as squares come. And today one square is raining, and another square is filled with flu germs. So my square will today be spraying lysol all along its perimeter.

Luke 11: 36
³⁶ Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be just as full of light as when a lamp shines its light on you.”

Ephesians 4:16:
¹⁶ From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.

Enduring Misunderstanding

2012-01-10T08:21:00.001-05:00

     Just yesterday we were discussing William Seward. And then, this   morning my history of the day lesson, which I receive each morning in my email box, informed me that on this day in 1861, William Seward was named secretary of state to Abraham Lincoln. Additionally, I had spent some time teaching about the difference between pragmatists and idealists, and in the little article this morning, it said, "Seward became known as a radical, belying his pragmatic tendencies." Funny...since I don't believe in coincidences, and this seemed highly coincidental if such things existed, I decided God was talking to me through the message of William Seward. Since I did nothing else but shiver in the damp cold house while the dogs slept yesterday, I have little else to talk about anyway.

     Seward is one of those figures in history that we all know one thing about, and one thing only-- "Seward's Folly". We all know that Seward talked our nation into buying Alaska from Russia (and if you don't know it, better memorize it if you intend to take the AP History exam).

He paid some ridiculously low amount, the equivalent of something like 3 cents an acre, but there are alot of acres in Alaska, and he was soundly lambasted for the purchase. But Seward was also a rabid abolitionist, and fought hard to bring about the end of slavery. When Lincoln was shot, Seward was stabbed in his bed, and almost died. I had completely forgotten, or perhaps, never known that. Seward lived, and went on ultimately to his ridiculed, but in the end, prescient purchase of Alaska. Here was a man, a great man, who lived a full and seemingly morally directed life, made one of the wisest decisions of the time in the face of outrage and derision, and died not knowing he would be vindicated, or that he would be a question one day on the AP History exam. It just doesn't seem fair.

     I don't know what Seward's religious beliefs were, but it certainly sounds like he was a Christian. He spoke often of a "higher authority than the constitution" as his reasoning for abolishing states' rights to hold slaves. At any rate, I hope he is in heaven and getting daily updates on our country. I hope an angel is right now discussing how blessed our nation was that Seward once lived and worked to benefit his country.

     "William. Are you feeling glum again? Honestly Willy, this is heaven. Glum is just not appropriate here."

     "I know, I know." He quietly hid the paper he was working on behind his back.

     "Willy, what is that?"

     Sheepishly,he handed the sheet to the angel. On it in sparkling gold stardust was written, "It was not folly."

     "William, I told you, they know that now. They have found all kinds of resources in Alaska no one anticipated."

     "Besides just a giant refrigerator?"

    "Yes of course, Willy, we have gone over this. They consider you a genius of foresight, now."

     "You know I was right about slavery too."

     "Yes, you were. They know that now too."

     "And I was as good as Lincoln."

     "Now Willy, remember, pride is the downfall of all mankind. We left that kind of thinking on earth."

     "It is hard to have spent a lifetime struggling for what you know is right, and have everyone around you think you are a loony goony."

     "Do we think you are a loony goony up here?"

     "Well no...."

     "And how long will you be here...? And compare that with how long you were down there."

     "Eternity... and thank God, just a blink of an eye in that ungrateful country down there."

     "That was God's plan all along, William. Persevere upholding what you know to be true and right in your heart, submit to the only authority that matters ultimately, the highest authority, and try not to succumb to despair when your life is maligned by those who don't understand."

     "Thank you, dear Angel, I have one little concern left."

     The Angel fondly patted William's back, "Yes, dear saint?"

     "You know that planet out there...the one they think is just a frozen block of ice, of no use to anyone? Could I go back long enough to buy it? They are really messing up the earth right now and I think it would be a good idea...."

     "William, just enjoy eternal peace. God will take care of Earth now."

Psalm 123:4 NIV

We have endured no end

of ridicule from the arrogant,

of contempt from the proud.

Isaiah 37:17-20 NIV

Give ear, Lord, and hear; open your eyes, Lord, and see; listen to all the words Sennacherib has sent to ridicule the living God. "It is true, Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste all these peoples and their lands. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by human hands. Now, Lord our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, Lord, are the only God."

Looking for Mermaids

2012-01-09T08:40:00.001-05:00

     Columbus, upon sighting 3 mermaids on this day in 1493 said ,"They are not half as beautiful as painted." Most experts feel what Columbus likely sighted were either manatees, or movie stars without their makeup.

     I don't know about you, but I have many "mermaids" in life. My expectations so far outshine the reality that in their wake, I can only bob in disappointment. Conversely, when I have no hope, no expectation, no vision of what could be, everything is better than dreamed of. I find this to be a very perplexing dilemma in life. I have always been taught to reach for the stars, set the bar high, seek perfection...but doesn't that inevitably set me up for discontent, even despair?? I am not quite sure how to reconcile the two. I can no longer toddle forth wide-eyed with inexperienced wonder and greet every event as a glorious surprise. I want to...but I don't know how to see the world without expectation of what it should hold.

     Maybe that's why we should never close ourselves off from babies. Old people especially need to be around babies. Cynical people, people who think life is grim and hopeless, downtrodden weary people, hopeless people all need to be around babies. They need to see babies as they first dangle a toe in the ocean, or pet a dog, or see a butterfly, or an ant. To look on life with fresh eyes and remember the wonder of first encountering it is the surest antidote to complacency and despair I know, and I believe it is one of the ways we keep our eyes on Jesus.

     One of my favorite verses is: keep your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. There it is again, that dispiriting idea of perfection. Not only do we need to stretch for perfection in life, but perfection in faith? Impossible! But, we are not the ones responsible for the perfection of our faith. Here is where grammar comes in handy. The noun that is being modified is Jesus. The direct objects that modify Jesus are "author" and "perfecter." While we are the subject in the sentence, and the verb tells us we are to "keep" our eyes on Jesus, it is Jesus who will perfect our faith...not us. It is implied that if we do our part in that sentence, keep our eyes on Him, He will do His part, perfect our faith.

     And then, while we are busy keeping our eyes on Jesus, it might be easier to enter the kingdom of God like newborn babes, another compelling verse in the Bible. Even the disciples scratch their heads over this one...how can grown men be like babies...be born again? Jesus tells them this is not the work of men, but of God.

     I am happy about this transfer of responsibility. I can try to temper expectations, and I can try to gaze on each moment anew, but I can guarantee that in five minutes, or less, I will fail. But if I can just focus on that one thing...keeping my eyes where they belong, my faith will be perfected, all things will be made new, and manatees will still not be mermaids, but beautiful nonetheless.

Psalm 16:8 NIV

I keep my eyes always on the Lord.

With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

Hebrews 12:2 NIV

fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Matthew 18:1-3 NIV

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Used for Good

2012-01-08T07:19:00.001-05:00

     You just never know what seemingly minor event might set off a whole new direction in life. For me, one of those first blush little events was finding a dying dog on the side of the road. Had I not done that, I would never have discovered that there was a book inside of her waiting to be written. Even more amazingly, I would never have learned how to set margins on a computer document, let alone how to make headers and footers or convert to PDF files. In fact, I would not have ever known what a PDF file was. I would never have met the wonderful people in the animal rescue world, in our dog club, or in some cases, my neighbors. I would never have started a daily blog, or probably even a facebook account. What looked like a calamity and a horrible setback when I helped that wretched little dog , turned out to be one of the pivotal events that finally sparked me to pursue a lifelong dream, to become a published author.

     On this day in 1946, Elvis was opening his gift, praying and hoping for a rifle or a bicycle. He was not feeling optimistic. The package was too fat for a rifle, and too small for a bicycle. He was probably thinking, "Wonderful... underwear for my birthday...again." They were a poor family, and he was used to disappointment. Then, he ripped off the last bit of wrapping paper, and gleaming before him was his first guitar. I suspect he didn't know how to play it and when he first started plucking it, it probably didn't make music. And while I am just guessing here, I bet he was sad that it wasn't what he had hoped for. Who would ever have guessed that in a decade, he would become one of the most famous musical stars of all time, and that Elvis Presley would change music forever?

     What looks like calamity, feels like failure, or reeks of disappointment, is often God's fodder for a future. There are countless examples in the Bible. Ruth's loss of her husband and father in law in a strange land led to her leaving her own people to settle in Israel. She did so in the midst of her loss and despair as a kindness to Naomi, her mother in law. In the end, she married Boaz, thereby becoming the great great great (not sure how many greats) grandmother of King David, and of Jesus Himself. You just never know what event might change your life...or even the world.

     By the way, all you children out there, Elvis's mom didn't want to get him a rifle or bike because she was overprotective and thought it was hard to injure oneself with a guitar. Instead of lamenting the protection of your mom, I would strongly advise you go give her a big hug and tell her thankyou for making you the star you will become.



Proverbs 14:32 NIV

When calamity comes, the wicked are brought down,

but even in death the righteous seek refuge in God.

Lamentations 3:38 NIV

Is it not from the mouth of the Most High

that both calamities and good things come?

Genesis 50:20 NIV

You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

Good Enough

2012-01-07T08:35:00.001-05:00

     Skiing all day in the beautiful cold definitely wiped us out. Asherel and I looked and felt like zombies the next day. And it was a full day we had to tackle the following day. I love skiing but it is probably a good thing the season is short. I am like the walking dead the next day. This is often the case with bliss. It is followed by crash.

     On the plus side,the mountain cold was exchanged for 64 degree sunshine. I stepped outside in the morning and felt like dancing. There is something about warmth after frigid cold that makes me throw all caution to the wind and do a jig beneath the clouds. And it was particularly welcome since we had trebuchet practice which must be done outdoors.

     For those of you that haven't followed my blog every day for the past two years, first of all, why not? Secondly, the trebuchet is one of the Science Olympiad events I coach. A trebuchet is like a catapult which flings objects through the use of a counterweight pulling a pivoting arm.

We had altered our trebuchet a little, and at the lowest counterweight, it was no longer flinging projectiles at all. It would anemically swing the pivoting arm, and the projectile would plop out of the sling 2 inches in front of the treb, or even and most frustratingly, fling backwards. So we set up in the lovely warm sunshine, and videotaped the fling in action to try to figure out why it was no longer working.

     After much top secret tinkering and adjusting and highly educated winging it and guessing, we finally got it to fling 2 meters.

     "How far should it fling?" asked Ben.

     "I don't know...probably a lot more."

     "It's funny how we are so excited about just 2 meters," he said.

     I thought about that. It probably needed to shoot 3 or 4 times that far, but after all we could do for an hour was shoot backwards, 2 meters felt like a gift wrapped in chocolate. Failure seems to be a critical element in savoring success. Even just modest success. Even dismal success. Forward is better than backward.

     When the Israelites escaped out of slavery in Egypt, even the little they had had in Egypt seemed abundant in the deprivation of their desert wandering. They grumbled that they would all die in the desert subsisting on just the manna God provided. They longed for the leeks and onions of their now bucolic memories of abundant life as slaves. Their eyes were on what they didn't have, not on what they had. That of course bred discontent.

     "How'd it go?" asked Ben's mom later.

     "Well, it went forward, and so we quit for the day," I told her, "Sometimes good enough is, well, good enough."

Chronicles 20:12

Our God, will you not judge them? For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you”

Moving Mountains

2012-01-06T08:37:00.001-05:00

     After our dinner break at the ski slope, we were ready for the night session. The temperature had dropped 15 degrees, and I had no scarf or cover for my chinny chin chin. We had driven down the mountain for fast food, and as I was driving back up, I veered into a ski shop parking lot.

   "I need a ski mask," I told the crew, hopping out of the car.

   "Why?" asked one of the kids.

   "So I can rob a bank."

    I entered the store, where a nice young salewoman with a nosering asked me if she could help me.

    "I am about to night ski, and I am already cold. What do you have for my face?"

    I am grateful she didn't suggest plastic surgery, or a nose ring. She led me to face masks, which have a fancy name starting with B, but all my friend Danielle and I could think to call them were "baklava", which I believe is actually a delicious pastry.

    The saleswoman showed me my choices and then looked at me.

    "I think you need a junior size," she said, handing me an extra small. This means my head is the size of a toddler's.

"The good thing is," she added, "They are cheaper than adult sizes."

     I know what you are thinking, and believe me, I have wondered myself. Does head size correlate with brain size...and what are the implications for intellectual development? I am thinking, not good.

     "Are you sure I don't need one the size of perhaps a five year old?" I asked.

     "Try on the extra small," she urged.

     It fit. Oh well. There are worse things than being a pin head....like being a butt head and most of the time I am not that. Good things do sometimes come in small packages, even extra small packages at times.

     Look at faith, for example. Jesus tells His disciples though their faith be as small as a mustard seed, it is large enough to move mountains. I skied joyfully down the mountain thinking of small things, little joys that bubble over and grow. Small hopes and dreams that slowly build, and little faith that can one day move mountains. I watched Asherel and her friends snowboard like pros, and remembered how once they could not go a foot without falling.

     A lady crashed into me and Danielle when we stood in a ski line. She was unable to stop or even stay upright on her skis. Danielle said, "It's ok. We all have been there. We all started that way."

     Little things have such a lovely potential of growing.

     I was toasty warm. Danielle had a matching "Baklava", so we sat like two Bobsey Twin bank robbers on the ski lift. The night was dark, and the snow was bright. I told Danielle as we slowly rose towards the stars that I felt like I was in a cocoon, bundled in all my ski clothes and my face tucked behind my extra small ski mask.

Matthew 17:20 NIV

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

To Go on Living

2012-01-05T08:27:00.001-05:00

     I always feel a simultaneous horror and delight when about to go skiing. The horror is of course from envisioning all the trees that could step in front of me while I am on a wild careening free fall, or the bitter cold slowly wrenching the protoplasm from the cells in my nose, or perhaps falling and splintering every tiny bone in my body. The delight is obvious, however. Careening free falls down hills dotted with snow speckled trees, invigorating cold mountain air, the feeling of using every tiny bone in my body.

     There is fresh snow on the slopes, the car was packed three weeks ago for the trip that kept getting cancelled, and the roads are clear. The trip I organized for area homeschoolers looks like it is going to really happen. i found myself waking at various points in the night and groaning, and then smiling. I think it is safe to say that I am crazy. I love risk, but it terrifies me. I confess, probably to my shame, that I never look forward to something with pure joy. There is inevitably a sense of foreboding as well. Usually once I am in the situation, that duality passes, and I am one with the moment.

     Paul of the Bible could identify, I think. He tells us that while he longs to be with Jesus and out of this world of trouble, He also longs to stay and do God's will here on Earth. That conflicting pull of heaven and earth is present in nearly all of life, I think. Follow the ways of heaven or the ways of earth?

Delight in men's approval, or God's? I am not sure it is possible to have both. One is just a foster home. The other is permanent.

     "Vicky, good grief, you are just going skiing! You never get off the green easy slopes. Does everything have to turn into some deep, poetic musing?"

     I hang my head, " I am not very good at just going with the flow."

     "I'll say! For once would you just enjoy the blessings of God?"

     "Yes, yes, I will!" I cry, strapping helmet, ankle, wrist, and knee braces and tucking my will in my pocket, with the numbers of next of kin.

Philippians 1:20-25 NIV

I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith,

Waiting Round the Bend

2012-01-04T07:14:00.001-05:00

     I wasn't sure what I would find as I entered the nursing home to look for my old friends. Comer had been sick, and Evelyn had fallen and been in bed for much of the past two weeks. Comer had not sounded confident that we would be able to get Evelyn safely to the car.

     "Then we will use a wheelchair if needed, Comer. It would do her good to get out."

     "That it would," he agreed, "She is not doing well. Never says a word....sometimes mumbles but not so anyone can tell what she is saying. How will we get her in the car?"

      That was saddening- the Alzheimers seemed to be winning the battle lately.

     "I am an occupational therapist," I said, "I know how to help her."

     "Well ok, darlin, then see you then."

     But as I entered the Home, they both sat in the entry way as usual, Evelyn looking more chipper than usual. Her back was ramrod straight and her hand clasped Comer's. They both stared straight ahead, and I suspected that they had been there a while, though I was a few minutes early.

     "Hello!" said Evelyn, with a huge smile. She was thickly swathed in two heavy sweaters.

     "Good thing you're bundled up...it is frigid out there!"

     "Yes," she said, nodding, with sparkling eyes.

      "Shall we go get roast beef? I know that's your favorite Comer."

      "That would be grand," he said.

     I took Evelyn's arm, expecting a struggle with a shuffling sack of potatoes after Comer's description, but she was fine. She was a little slow getting in the car, but after a few slow shifts of her hips, she was in and comfortable.

     "Hey Comer, my book went to number one."

     "You are kidding me! That's fantastic."

     "Yep, in the dog training category on Amazon. You have a famous author taking you to lunch."

     Evelyn laughed.

     "I know Evelyn," I said, " A little exaggeration...But I wrote a second book too. It is ready to be published."

     I had had the music on as always, with songs from the 40s and 50s, their era. Evelyn sang along to many, and Comer smiled watching her.

Then Moon River came on. I cranked it up.

     "You know this one for sure, Evelyn!" I said. I was stopped at a corner so I sat there as the song blasted from the CD player. Evelyn reached her hands up, mimicking mine as we gestured dramatically in time with the words. Her voice was clear, and strong.

      Moon River, wider than a mile

      I'm crossing you in style one day

      We're after the same rainbow's end

      Waiting round the bend

      My huckleberry friend

      Moon River and Me.

The song ended and Comer gazed at his smiling wife as she sighed with contentment.

     "She's having a good day," he said, "What's your second book about?"

      "Miracles."

You shall rise up before the grayheaded and honor the aged. Leviticus 19:32

Providing Needs

2012-01-03T07:47:00.001-05:00

      School has reopened at the Kaseorg Homeschool. Asherel and I creaked into the new year, kicking and screaming a little but by the end of the day, we were back into the routine. I was glad I had written the blog yesterday about a good attitude making all the difference because it is never easy to return to long hard days after two weeks off. I had to resort to a lecture on the serenity prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

    "Can you change the fact that you have end of the year AP and SAT tests and have to be prepared for them?"

     "No."

     "Can you change the fact that you are a student and by law I am required to educate you?"

     "No."

     "Then that is one of those things you have to accept, and it will be a lot more pleasant for all of us if it is with joy and delight."

     I recounted how I used to stay up mourning all night on Sunday before I had to return to work on Mondays back in the days of my full time working. It is not that I didn't understand her reluctance. It is hard to kiss vacation goodbye.

     Meanwhile, my favorite animal rescue, Hollow Creek Farm, never takes time off. They had posted to facebook that the dogs were coming in faster than money, potential owners, or crates. They were desperate for all three to be able to help the dogs they pull from imminent euthanasia lists or have found dumped in mostly horrific condition. They have started a new rescue venue, called Operation Candy Van (at least I think that is what the OCV stands for...could also be Occupy Canine Vigilantes given the current fad in our country.) Whatever OCV stands for, it transports dogs from southern gas chambers to owners seeking pets in the North. HCF makes sure the dogs are vetted, innoculated, healed as needed, linked with potential owners, and then driven a thousand miles to their hopeful haven. They scrounge for donations, but a good bit of money is from their own pockets. I am sure I will be corrected if I am wrong on this description.

     Anyway, I noticed in a recent post that they were asking if anyone had crates, preferably 36 inch crates, so they could temporarily house more dogs in their shelter, save more lives. I wondered why there was a glut of dogs that required 36 inch crates. It was right around Christmas, and I was in the midst of family gathering, cooking, entertaining. As soon as family left, I was felled by a mysterious illness which my husband called a "bad cold" but I am certain was something more exotic, like PanAsian HiNi7. I had already given them our extra crate, so had nothing to offer.

    Finally feeling well enough to start back to my walking regimen, I was rounding the corner yesterday and noticed my neighbor working in his yard.

     "Happy New Year Jim!" I called.

     "Happy New Year, Vicky! Oh, I wanted to ask you. I have a brand new crate, never opened, still in the box that was the wrong size. Never returned it. Might that animal farm you like want it?"

     I stopped in my tracks, "They sure would!"

     He had the tiniest dog on the planet so I knew it wouldn't be what HCF most needed, but any crate could help them. If nothing else they could loan it to other needy rescues. He opened the garage door. The crate box came up to his waist.

     "That was for Piper (the chihuahua mix)?"

     "No, it was for Casey. It turned out to be a little too small for her." I wondered why for three years since Casey had died, the crate had just sat there, unopened.

     "Well thanks! Out of curiosity...what size is it?"

     We leaned over and read the box: 36 inches.

     I led the way while Jim shouldered the heavy box to carry to my porch, and I smiled shaking my head. I may not always have the courage or wisdom to change the things I can, but it seems God is determined to help me out in my inadequacies. I sent an email to HCF, "Want a 36 inch crate?"

     "Heck yeh!"

Philippians 4:19 NIV

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.

It's All in the Frame

2012-01-02T07:29:00.001-05:00

     The fun is over. Back to the grind. A barren landscape of school stretches interminably before us....

     Wait, that attitude stinks! What about rewiring your head, Miss Pessimissy? How about start again:

Oh joy! School back in session! The opportunity to delve into the mystery of neuron transmission, complicated geometric proofs, the history of world war 1, and how to write cogent, pithy twenty page research papers. Does it get any better than this!?

     There, I feel better already. It is all in how you frame the picture.

     It is too easy to focus on the burden, and not the reward. Our sermon Sunday talked about daily bearing our cross. I loved how the pastor described it not as bearing our struggles, as I have always heard it explained, but as submitting daily to God's plan and lordship, rather than our own. It is easy to look at that as a burden, and forget the reason for it. In the end, submitting to God results in eternal life in the presence of complete and absolute Good.              That really is a picture worth framing.

Proverbs 23:26 NIV

My son, give me your heart

and let your eyes delight in my ways,

In the Presence of God

2012-01-01T07:06:00.001-05:00

    I didn't make it till midnight.... I almost never do. After a week of being sick, it was not surprising that by 11:00, I was done in. However, my presence would be felt. My contribution to the festivities was homemade chocolate mousse, thick and chocolately enough that we were all in a sugar coma after three bites.

     I had found the recipe on line and what set it apart from other chocolate mousse recipes was it was made with egg yolks that got cooked, rather than remain raw. Mousse is one of Matt's favorite desserts, and I hadn't made it in years, precisely because those raw eggs concerned me... that, and the fact that it takes a half hour of nail biting culinary awareness and skill to make mousse. However, since i suspected I wouldn't make it up till midnight, and Matt and Karissa were stopping back here for New Year's Eve, it seemed the least I could do. At least as their cavities formed from the sticky sugar goo, they would remember me in the new year.

     Earlier in the day, I had spoken with sister Amy, who is a deaf interpreter. I told her about my painful wrists and she told me that wrist tendonitis is a hazard in her work. She knew how to avoid carpal tunnel and surgery.

    "Wear your wrist braces for a month," she warned, "Tendons are very slow to heal."

So, in the hopes that it is not yet carpal tunnel syndrome, I put on both wrist braces, and went to make my chocolate mousse.

     "Melt chocolate, butter, and water in microwave."

     This is easy!

     "Over low heat in heavy saucepan, whisk egg yolks, sugar, and remaining water till 160 degrees. Hint to you stupid people who don't know your way around a kitchen and yes, Vicky, I am talking to you, that means about 2 minutes. Do not stop whisking."

     This was getting less easy. Whisking is not hard, usually, not unless one is wearing bilateral wrist splints for bilateral wrist pain.

     "Pour chocolate mixture into saucepan, remove from heat, and while whisking continually, place sauce pan in ice till mixture hardenes. 5-10 minutes."

     5-10 minutes! Of whisking! oh dear, carpal tunnel surgery, here I come.

     However, I was enormously pleased at the perfect consistency as my mousse began to harden. Oh...wait...there is one more line. I missed that when I glanced over the recipe.

     "Fold in whipped cream."

     Gulp. We didn't have whipped cream. As the mousse continued to harden, I knew it needed the whipped cream or I would have a solid blob of unchewable chocolate.

     "Quick Arvo, I need whipped cream and I need it within 5 minutes!"

He was not happy, but he shot out the door. I heard the neighbor shout Happy New Year and head over to chat but Arvo waved him away.

     Meanwhile, I took the pan out of the ice to slow the cooling time, and whisked, and whisked and whisked. The   minutes ticked by and the mixture grew thicker and harder to whisk. My wrists were aching, but at this point, surgery was a small price to pay for perfect mousse to welcome in the New Year. tick tock. tick tock.

     The phone rang. I grabbed it while wedging the sauce pan with my hip and whisking with the slightly less painful hand.

     "The whipped cream is frozen. Do you want that? Or the can?"

     "The can! And hurry!"

     Whisk, whisk, whisk. tick tock tick tock. ouch ouch ouch.

    The chocolate blob was coagulating on the spoon as my hero raced in. I snatched the whipped cream from him and sprayed it on the blob. Folding it in was similar to bending kryptonite. I had never known what an excellent work out making mousse could be. Somehow, miraculously, the whipped cream managed to soften the blob and several painful minutes later, I had 6 perfect little parfait glasses with lovely mousse in them.

     I put the mousse in the refrigerator and closed the door. My arms hung limply at my side, and my wrists throbbed. Matt texted that he would be there in half an hour. Arvo texted back, "Don't eat. Mom made mousse."

      "Yum," texted Matt.

      That day I had read a quote by Oswald Chambers. He had said that we are sometimes so busy looking for the miraculous, that we miss the presence of God in the mundane. I think that is true. I looked at the mousse sitting on the shelf and thought how simple it looked, what a small part of a large meal in a vast array of food. If I hadn't recorded this, no one might have known how much love, and yes, sacrifice, was contained in that tiny parfait glass. I suspect there are countless tiny examples of God's presence, of God's love that we overlook, not remembering how much sacrifice went into the seemingly simple ability to step into a new year in the presence of God.

     I passed out the mousse as we watched Matt' alma mater, UVa, play football. His new wife and he sang the UVa theme song, which is to the tune, appropriately, of Auld Lang Syne. I ate my mousse, which was a tad harder than it should be but not bad, and thought how lovely life is, how miraculous every breath, how blessed I am.

     Happy New Year!

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 NIV

How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy we have in the presence of our God because of you? Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you again and supply what is lacking in your faith. Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus clear the way for us to come to you. May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours does for you. May he strengthen your hearts so that you will be blameless and holy in the presence of our God and Father when our Lord Jesus comes with all his holy ones.

The Old is Gone....or at least going....

2011-12-31T08:14:00.001-05:00

     It is the last day of the year and I am sitting here realizing what a year filled with firsts it was. I am grateful to be sitting and not flat on my back coughing, sneezing, and worse...

     It was a nasty bug that attacked me for 5 days, but I have awoken today feeling almost normal! This is wonderful since my son Matthias and his wife Karissa, who makes the very air smile, will be here for the weekend. I am not filled with energy yet so the plans are simple and the meals will be made on the grill, which means not my domain, but the hubby's. My sisters pulled a fast one on me, though. They scheduled a visit to see my folks when I was sick so I was unable to go. And I would so want to see all of them. The world is never perfect.

    But it is the last day of 2011 and we seem to have survived. There was great upheaval in our home and as I mentioned, many firsts- first year homeschooling high school with Asherel, first child getting married, first time ever learning Kreb's cycle so I understood it (sort of), first time ever Arvo was laid off from a job and a few painful months in a horrid economy without work, first book I have ever published, first time our little rescue dog ever double "Q'ed" at an agility trial, first time I made homemade cream of mushroom soup, and first time I followed a recipe from start to finish (except for one minor substitution not even worth mentioning, unless if by some quirky rule of cooking, you are not supposed to substitute sweet potatoes for onions....).

     There are others. For example, I joined my first "writer's club" only to find out it was developed for Indian writers. I am sure my strongly Christian book is being well received....The moderater kindly told me it was fine for me to join, nonetheless, and I have come to have a strong affinity to India so have enjoyed reading the group posts.

     The old is crawling out and the new tumbling in. I won't be making any resolutions. I never do. I started recognizing many years ago that any change that comes over me permanently is not from me. It is the transformative wonder of God in me, the miraculous stripping away of what I have been to what I can be, and one day, will be.

     Happy New Year!

2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!

Don't ask why

2011-12-30T07:53:00.001-05:00

I won't ask why...it just is what it is. If there is a reason, I am not privy to it.

I looked at myself in the mirror, with my red and bloody nose, droopy eyes, and growly lungs. And I am in the best shape of all the friends and family I am currently in fervent prayer for. One friend's post was titled 'weary'. Knowing what that sweet woman has endured the past year, weary is a very mild understatement. But it is unlikely that if God never told Job 'why', He would tell me.

I guess 'why ' is not the right question anyway. I think the best question in the face of suffering, setback, and, despairing circumstances is perhaps 'how'.

How do I move on with contentment in the midst of the heavy hand I have been dealt?

Or even better,

How do I see beyond the pain to the beauty that surrounds me when I am too weary to open my eyes?

Ok, 'how' is almost as tough as 'why'.

'When' is definitely no better and fraught with frustration. None of us know when or even if the suffering will stop. 'Where' is easy but self evident thus silly. Same with 'what'. Usually what we struggle with is disturbingly apparent.

That leaves 'who'. 'Who' is our last hope in the wh family. On first blush, 'who' doesn't appear any more useful than 'where'. However, maybe 'who' is indeed the only answer. Who holds our future and our life in His hands and who knows what purpose every spark of being has in the whole vast universe? In the end, I suppose there is little else we can answer but that He must be trusted to ultimately bring a peace that surpasses understanding in the midst of unbearable times.

I won't ask why, but it is good for me to remember who.

Hebrews 2:6-9, 13-17 NIV

But there is a place where someone has testified:

"What is mankind that you are mindful of them,

a son of man that you care for him? You made them a little lower than the angels;

you crowned them with glory and honor and put everything under their feet."

In putting everything under them, God left nothing that is not subject to them. Yet at present we do not see everything subject to them. But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. And again,

"I will put my trust in him."

And again he says,

"Here am I, and the children God has given me." Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham's descendants. For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people.

The Details of the Plan

2011-12-29T08:30:00.000-05:00

     I seem to be taking a turn for the better- the nausea and intense aches gone, and my nose drying up. Nothing makes one appreciate good health more than when you don't have it. I spent the day again lying around, but did drive Asherel home from her volunteer work.Arvo drove her there, since at that point, I was still not sure I would live.
     Asherel was helping out at a children's camp teaching the kids to draw. The organizer liked her so much, she asked her back for a second day. When I picked Asherel up, she was glowing. I feel the same way after extending myself for others. She had a picture in her hand.
     "What's that?" I asked.
     She handed it to me. It was an exquisite and detailed sketch of one of the fairy like creatures from our new Christmas gift game, Mario Smash Brothers. (Yes, I know....it is a game where characters do indeed smash each other, and I did not allow my first two children to own it, much as Matt begged me. In my old age and with child number three, I am just worn out. I hope and pray she does not beg me for heroin next....)

     I took the drawing from her and gazed at it.
     "Did you have a picture to look at?" I asked.
     "No...it was just from memory."
     It was astonishing. This is my greatest downfall as an artist. I have lousy visual memory. The exquisite detail in Asherel's drawing made the fairy jump off the page, as though she were alive. What a gift, I thought.

     That very day while driving to pick Asherel up, I had noticed a field that took my breath away. On the horizon were trees, stretching to a robin egg blue sky. In the foreground were rolling olive hills, and golden waves of reeds and grasses.
     "If only I could seal this in my mind and draw it when I get home," I thought.
     So when I got home I tried. I could picture the colors, and the emotion the scene had evoked in me, but unlike Asherel, I could not picture details.
     I find this extends to most areas of my life. I can remember the emotion of events, the general gestalt of events, but the specifics often elude me. I think I had to develop an imagination and a creative mind to fill in all those gaps that I can never remember.It is doubly disconcerting to me as I believe God is a God of details. All you have to do is read the Bible to see the excruciating exactness of God's plans, God's messages, and God's working in the lives of men. A very difficult passage for me to wade through is God's directions on how the Temple was to be built. Every minute detail is carefully mandated. Every measurement, every material, even how the carved angels wings are to meet over the ark of the covenant. How did David and Solomon even begin to think they could get it all right?

     David actually tells us how. He says God gave him the ability to understand His plan. This is remarkable and gives me great comfort. I cannot know God, not fully. I cannot understand Him, not completely. I certainly cannot discern the breadth of His plan for humankind, let alone for me. What hope do I have of following Him then? He Himself gives us the ability to follow His plan, just like He tells David in 1 Chronicles. If our heart's desire is to seek Him, to follow Him, He provides the details.

     "When did you draw this?" I asked Asherel, returning the gorgeous sketch.
     "In my spare time."
     "What did you have the kids draw today?"
     " A llama."
     " A llama! why a llama?"
     "It's what they voted for."
     "Have you ever drawn a llama before?" I asked.
     "No...but it turned out looking just like a llama."

1 Chronicles 28:
¹⁹ “All this,” David said, “I have in writing as a result of the LORD’s hand on me, and he enabled me to understand all the details of the plan.”
²⁰ David also said to Solomon his son, “Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the LORD is finished.

A little droopy

2011-12-28T08:20:00.001-05:00

       Sitting on the recliner all day left little time to engage in much worth writing about. It has been a long time since I have been so incapacitated. I am not a good sick person. and so little was left to me but to read.
      Unfortunately, I was in 2 Chronicles in my daily Bible reading. While I believe all parts of the Bible are inspired by God and useful for life, 2 Chronicles is not the most exhilarating read. For those of you who never took the time to delve into this book, it is list after list of geneologies. It serves a good purpose of demonstrating that the Bible is an exact and careful recording of facts, down to an excruciating detail of who begat who (or is that whom?) but my every instinct is to flip through those pages, skimming for the rare action verb.
     And then I came to Chronicles 11. In this chapter, King David is trapped behind Philistine lines and is dying of thirst. Like me, he was apparently feeling a little droopy. He mentions this, and at extreme risk, three of his mighty men break through enemy lines and get him water. Next comes what I have always considered among the most puzzling passages in scripture. When the mighty men return with the water that they risked their lives to obtain, David says he cannot drink water that was procured at such risk. So he pours it out on the ground.
     Now if it were me watching that precious water dumped after I almost died getting it, I would leap forward with cupped hands, shouting, "Are you nuts? After all I went through and that is how you treat my offering?
     I suspect I am missing some major point. Sometimes I think perhaps he wanted to dissuade such foolish risks from the men in the future. Our pastor said he poured it out in sacrifice to God, but frankly, I don't get that from the text. I am convinced the mighty men were looking at each other incredulously and whispering among themselves, "That's the last time we risk life and limb for him." The text doesn't really support that either. But one thing I do get is: be careful what you say when you are feeling droopy. Someone might take it to heart and it may lead to unnecessary hardship. I know that when I am droopy, the world looks very bleak and hopeless. But it is a temporary conditon. David would not always be thirsty and one day, I will not be so wilted.

(NIV)1 Chronicles 11:17-19, 38
David longed for water and said, “Oh, that someone would get me a drink of water from the well near the gate of Bethlehem!” [18] So the Three broke through the Philistine lines, drew water from the well near the gate of Bethlehem and carried it back to David. But he refused to drink it; instead, he poured it out to the Lord. [19] “God forbid that I should do this!” he said. “Should I drink the blood of these men who went at the risk of their lives?” Because they risked their lives to bring it back, David would not drink it. Such were the exploits of the three mighty warriors. [38] Joel the brother of Nathan, Mibhar son of Hagri,

Forget Not all His Benefits

2011-12-27T07:33:00.000-05:00

No sooner were the boys both on their way home than I was felled by an extraordinarily bad cold. I found myself unable to muster energy even to take the dogs for a walk, a mutually beloved activity. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with pumice, my nose matched Rudolph's, my eyes were watery and achy, and I would erupt in sneezing fits that tossed me like a rag doll. And this litany of complaints was topped by a very disturbing and encroaching malady...both wrists are in pain that seems to be increasing a little each day. I am willing to give up vacuuming and scrubbing toilets to heal my wrists...but how can I give up drawing and writing? I put braces on both wrists and crawled miserably out of bed this morning. It is raining. How does one plummet so precipitously from the heights of rapture over the Savior's birth celebrated with a house filled with family, to this cavernous emptiness echoing with sneezes and ouches as my aching wrists type? I can only conclude I am fickle.

I returned from dropping Anders at the airport yesterday and crawled into the recliner with my Galaxy Tab. I spent the whole day drawing on it, and sneezing. Every so often I brushed away tears because I am always sad when my boys leave. Praise God for Asherel and her youth. I still get four years with her. Honeybun planted herself near me. She always hovers near, but particularly when she suspects I am about to dissolve into a blithering blob of hopeless grief that might not remember the dog's dinner time.

Arvo took one look at me and suggested he order pizza for dinner so I didn't need to move. I huddled with my Galaxy Tab, drawing and sneezing. Good thing, I thought, that God is a God of renewal, of mercy, and of redemption. Because otherwise, I would not be climbing out of this pit. Thank Goodness it only requires minimal wrist movement to press the Bible button on my Galaxy Tab.

Psalm 103: 1-5

¹ Praise the LORD, my soul;
   all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
² Praise the LORD, my soul,
   and forget not all his benefits—
³ who forgives all your sins
   and heals all your diseases,
⁴ who redeems your life from the pit
   and crowns you with love and compassion,
⁵ who satisfies your desires with good things
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

The Promise

2011-12-26T08:07:00.000-05:00

One piece of my heart was ripped away yesterday as Matthias and Karissa left , and another piece gets ripped off in a few hours as Anders flies away home. I hate goodbyes. I hate that my loved ones are scattered like stars across the universe. I just want them all near. It is one of my deepest desires, but one I can never have, except for brief interludes. Not until we gather in Heaven.

I know how the day will go. I will drop Anders at the airport and then weep violently as I drive home. Then I will walk in the house that instead of looking decorated, just looks dirty, remarkably cluttered and empty simultaneously. And I will put away Christmas, struggling not to keep crying.

Arvo, Asherel, and I went on a walk after Matt and Karissa left. Anders was resting and didn't want to go. When we returned and stepped onto the porch, we heard music. Glorious, beautiful, piano as only someone who understands and loves music from the depth of his soul can play it. We all stopped and listened. It was a Chopin medley, and I recognized strains of the song, "I'm always Chasing Rainbows." We were afraid if we opened the door, it would stop.

"We can't just stand here in the cold," whispered Asherel.

Much as we hated to, we opened the door. We all crept in without speaking, and the music went on. I sat nearby, hoping he wouldn't notice we had arrived and that blessing, that gift from a creative God to a creative, but very private young man would continue. Anders played the piano, while the Christmas tree sparkled behind him. I don't know if he was purposefully offering a gift to me, but nonetheless it was a gift as he played for several minutes. I have missed the sound of the piano in our home. I would have stood in the cold a long time, had it been only me, so that the music wouldn't stop.

Jesus tells his grieving apostles that there will come a time when they will no longer see Him. They will be scattered, and for a time, feel utterly abandoned. They will also be abandoning Jesus to His fate, the crucifixion, which He must endure alone. But He reminds them that He is not alone, for His father is with Him, just as He is ultimately with all of us. Jesus reminds the broken hearted to take heart- in the end when we open the door, the music doesn't stop. That is when it begins.

John 16: 31-33
³¹ “Do you now believe?” Jesus replied. ³² “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.
³³ “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Conquering Darkness

2011-12-25T08:06:00.000-05:00

We sat in a church of 5,000 people last night. The lights were dimmed, and then the church was dark. One by one, the candles of the people on the aisle seats were lit. They turned and lit the candle of their neighbor, who turned and lit the candle of their neighbor. Candle by candle from that birth of the single flame, a whole church of 5,000 people was soon ablaze in light. Darkness was overcome, and for a moment, there was peace on earth.

I heard a talk show host a few days ago berating those who want to hold back progress. In many ways, I agreed with him, but there was one statement that I found myself shaking my head at. He said the light bulb was one of the single most important inventions, because with the light bulb, we humans conquered the dark. As I reflected on this season, and all it means, I thought that is not true. The darkness was not overcome by Edison's light bulb. It was overcome by a little baby born some 2,000 years ago in a manger. In His light, we see light.

Merry Christmas!

Psalm 118: 26-28

²⁶ Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD.
   From the house of the LORD we bless you.
²⁷ The LORD is God,
   and he has made his light shine on us.
With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession
   up to the horns of the altar.
²⁸ You are my God, and I will praise you;
   you are my God, and I will exalt you.

Isaiah 50: 10
Let the one who walks in the dark,
   who has no light,
trust in the name of the LORD
   and rely on their God.

Isaiah 53: 10-12
¹⁰ Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
   and though the LORD makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
   and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
¹¹ After he has suffered,
   he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
   and he will bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
   and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
   and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many,
   and made intercession for the transgressors.

2 Corinthians 4: 5-7

⁵ For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. ⁶ For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
⁷ But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

What Happens to the Sheep?

2011-12-24T08:15:00.001-05:00

^{Luke 2: 9-10}
⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.

Terror gives way to great joy. That is what Christmas is about. I think complete faith casts out fear, because we know who holds us in His grip. I also think complete faith is probably impossible this side of Heaven. And when doubt enters, so does fear. I suspect most of us no matter what our spiritual inclination, ask now and then, "What if I am wrong?" Maybe there are people who have never felt that way. I am not one of them.

I find it so amazing that the terrified shepherds keeping watch over their sheep should be the first witness that the Savior was born.
The Bible oftentimes describes us as sheep waiting for the Good Shepherd. In that beautiful passage in Luke, the staff is passed. The earthly shepherds bow down before the Heavenly Shepherd. A star, never before seen, moves across the sky and leads them to the little manger. The angel has forewarned them that they will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, the Messiah.

The Bible doesn't recount much of what the shepherds say upon hearing this astonishing news. But surely they must have discussed this as they were following the star. And by the way, we are also not told what happens to the shepherd's sheep which they were supposed to be watching. Did the whole herd traipse after the star with them? God commands them to do the one thing they should never do...leave their sheep. What happens to the sheep? I like to fill in gaps. Here is what I think may have transpired: (ps- this is not recorded in scripture and the names are not known. this is called imagination gone amok.)

"Did you see what I think we just saw, Maliphosphor?" He rubbed his eyes.
Maliphosphor's eyes darted back and forth as he leaned in to Arpamismael, "What did you see?"
"That was an angel...and he was talking to us. And telling us strange things. What I don't get is why the sheep weren't frightened cause I was ready to pee in my cloak."
"Oh yeah! The sheep! What do we do with the sheep?"
"I don't know...but we can't disobey the angel. Do you think the Messiah really comes to us as a baby?"
"Do you think stars really move and angels really appear? Look Mali, none of this makes sense...but I have this very strong conviction that we need to check out this baby."
Maliphosphor sighed deeply, nodding, and turned to the sheep, commanding, "STAY!"
The sheep bleated and then lay down.
"If this is not the Messiah, we are risking our job security for nothing," said Arpamismael, as they set off after the star.
"Why a baby? The God who created the Universe could certainly have come up with a more dramatic form for the Savior, don't you think?" Maliphosphor cried out.
Arpamismael glanced back at the flock. One sheep was watching him, getting ready to stand.
"Lie down!" called Arpamismael. The sheep lowered himself again.
"Don't you read your Bible? We knew this was coming. Isaiah told us, remember, unto us a son shall be born, and the government shall be upon his shoulders. and we shall call him wonderful counselor, mighty God, prince of peace.... This is no ordinary baby."
"Do you think it is true? Could it really be the Messiah?"
Mali took one last look at the sheep as they crested a hill. They all were watching after the shepherds, disappearing into the distance. Their ears stood out in the moonlight as they huddled obediently and waited.
"It better be...or that flock is wolf bait."
"You know... I think we are doing the right thing...I mean it is God's messenger who told us to do it...but have we taken leave of our senses? We are shepherds. It's not rocket science, but it is an important duty in an agrarian society. We have one duty: watch the sheep."
"Maybe there is a duty more important."
Maliphosphor looked again over his shoulder. The night enveloped the horizon and he could no longer see the sheep, but as he looked ahead, the star shone like a flashlight on a little manger and there was singing as though all the stars had voices.

Isaiah 9: 6-7
⁶ For to us a child is born,
   to us a son is given,
   and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
   Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
⁷ Of the greatness of his government and peace
   there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
   and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
   with justice and righteousness
   from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the LORD Almighty
   will accomplish this.

Luke 2: 8-20

⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
   and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
¹⁶ So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

Wow

2011-12-23T08:42:00.001-05:00

I read that Steve Jobs, in his last moments before dying, while surrounded by his family, was looking just beyond them with a rapturous look on his face. His last words were, "OH WOW! OH WOW! OH WOW!"

I know very little about Steve Jobs. I don't know where he centered spiritually. But that response to something no one else in the room apparently saw reminds me of Anders as a very young boy once looking around him in wonder and telling me, "Mommy I see angels." His eyes were bright and sparkling, and he was looking delightedly in the air above him.

I love this season that celebrates miracles with Hanukkah, and the birth of God's son with Christmas. God is a God of Wonder, and there is so much wonder in the trappings and beauty of the Christmas celebration. I saw the dogs sitting before the Christmas tree just gazing at it, and I could almost see them discussing what it meant to bring a tree inside a house.

"I don't know, Lucky, it makes no sense."
"Humans don't make sense, Honeybun. Sometimes we just have to accept on faith that they know what they are doing."
"But at times they seem so rational. They seem to know we need food, exercise,and finally even rescinded that ridiculous rule that we couldn't sleep on the couches," said Honeybun, "And then...this." She shook her head sadly, looking at the tree.
"That's true, but then how can anyone explain those parts of their being we don't understand....like how could anyone kiss a nose that doesn't lick it's own butt?" asked Lucky, while noisily doing just that.
"I know....that is inexplicable. Or why they don't roll in dead animals and even worse, prevent us from doing so?"
"I guess there are just some things that we can never hope to comprehend, and must just make that leap of faith that our Master, while being incomprehensible, is Good," Lucky answered, with a philosophic tilt to his ears.
"What do you think is the good behind bringing a tree meant to live outdoors inside? And then covering it with lights, putting that angel on top there, and then plugging it in...a definite fire hazard?" Honeybun puzzled.
"Maybe bringing it to a completely unexpected place, seemingly irrational, and so far from what one envisions a tree to be, makes us look at it in a new way. I know it does for me."
"How so, Lucky?"
"It just makes me want to say, oh wow...bow wow wow WoW!"

My beloved boys and delightful new daughter in law, dear daughter, and loving husband are all with me this Christmas. I am surrounded by miracles. This morning,I remembered a favorite verse that has little to do with Christmas, but every thing to do with contentment in what God has provided, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places."

"Listen to her," said Honeybun cocking an ear, "She's not so incomprehensible after all."
Lucky opened an eye, "Why? What did she say?"
"She said ,'Wow, bow wow wow wow!"

Psalm 16: 5-7
⁵ LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup;
   you make my lot secure.
⁶ The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
   surely I have a delightful inheritance.
⁷ I will praise the LORD, who counsels me;
   even at night my heart instructs me.

The Best

2011-12-22T07:46:00.001-05:00

    My book is the Kindle number one book in dog training for the second day running. This makes me laugh as while my dog is no longer vicious, she still barks like a demon when people come to the door, and the other dog still ignores us when he doesn't feel like being a good dog...which is most of the time.
     Additionally, my book is the Kindle Number 3 book in family relations. This also makes me laugh, as this may be the subject I am second least qualified to speak upon, after dog training, as most people might note upon observing my family. If it ends up in the number two spot for Cooking, that may well make a trifecta of Irony. (PS- for those of you that don't follow horse racing, trifecta is when you bet on the first, second, and third place winners correctly.This will probably not be on the SAT college exam, but it is a good word to have in your arsenal, nonetheless.)
     I am sure my number one status will soon be upended. But for now, I am basking in the glory of being the best at something. I have rarely, if ever been the best at something. On the other hand, I have often been the worst at many things. I suppose maybe I have been the best at being the worst.
     However, speaking of being the worst, I have to come up with five days of dinners for my lovely family, all gathered here for the holidays. Since I am number three expert in family relations now, I think I need to take this duty perhaps more seriously than I have in the past. So I told hubby Arvo to go buy a brisket, as I knew everyone would like that, and had made it once before successfully.
     "Get one large enough to feed everyone," I requested, "I have had a lot of trouble finding brisket. I only found a small 2 pound hunk."
     He returned with a 20 pound brisket. I wasn't sure it would fit in the oven. I went on line and found a recipe for 'beer braised brisket". The alliteration alone was enough to convince me this should be meal #1 for the family mothered by the #3 author in family relations.

(I thought your book was about a dog. Why are you rated in the family relations category?
This is a good question, and one we should direct to Kindle while I continue to reign supreme.)

     Anyway, the recipe called for the brisket to bake for 6 hours, and every hour, I was to sacrifice a bottle of beer to the pan. None of us are beer drinkers, but Arvo keeps some on hand just in case a beer drinker ever walks in the house. We had an odd assortment of beer, including one called Chocolate Beer. Mmmmm, now that sounds good, doesn't it? We decided the chocolate beer would be just the thing for brisket.
     Since it was Hanukkah, I also made a triple recipe of latkes. For my non Jewish friends, latkes are potato and onion pancakes dripping with thousands of calories of deep fried grease. They are delicious, but if you have them more than once a year, you are considered a flammable substance and should never leave home without a fire extinguisher.
     Dinner was delicious- the brisket a hit. As well it better be, as I have 17 pounds of brisket left.
"Do you all mind if we have brisket again tomorrow?" If they minded, they didn't tell me, probably because they knew one should never cross the number 3 expert in family relations.

Vicky,we have come to really respect and desire your interpretation of your daily events to God's messages. It just sounds like all you have done is brag here. What did God tell you through your brisket and book experience?

This is again, a good question, and one that Kindle is probably unprepared to answer. I thought about being the best. I always try to be the best, but as I pointed out, in most cases, I do not succeed. For one glorious day going on two, I did. However, I don't think God is impressed with my #1 Book status. I do think, however, He desires that we offer our best to Him. Sometimes it will lead to accolades and maybe even riches (I hope, I hope....) but many times, it won't. However, it will always lead to blessing. I am not a good cook, I am not a perfect mother, and I am not an authority on dog training by any stretch of the imagination. But I do desire to be the best I can be before God. Unfortunately, oftentimes I don't live up to my desires. It is the miracle of the baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas that we have the Best lifting us up with Him. And His Book is the number 1 best selling book of all time, offered like mine for a limited time, for free.

Numbers 18: 29
²⁹ You must present as the LORD’s portion the best and holiest part of everything given to you.’

Christmas Light

2011-12-21T07:40:00.000-05:00

I gazed despairingly at the wine stained library book. I had finished it, and defiled it, and now, my conscience would let me delay no longer- I must confess my crime. I pictured going to the library clerks and handing them the book, shame dripping from every pore.
"Forgive me, Library, for I have sinned."
I just could not do it. I could not face their wrath as they first beheld the book that they had loaned me in good faith, the book that was brand new with the binding yet uncreased, the pages creamy white...until I had dripped upon them. So instead, I wrote a note. I tucked the note into the book and asked Asherel if she wanted to join me on errands.
"First, to the library," I said, "I am returning the book and owning up to what I did."
"You wrote them a note?" she asked, looking at the little paper tucked in the book.
"Yes, and I will put the book in the book deposit and they will read the note and decide what my punishment will be. Read the note, and tell me what you think."
She picked up the book, looked at the purple stain on the edges, and pulled out my note. She read for a few seconds and then looked up at me.
"Grape juice? You said you spilled grape juice?"
"Well if I told them wine they would think I was reading their book in a drunken stupor. Anyway, it was grape juice....fermented grape juice."
"You are going to offer them the book you wrote as payment for the stain?" she asked reading on.
"Yes, doesn't that sound like a fair exchange? When we get there, take the book just inside the doors and drop it in the adult book depository. Be sure the note doesn't drop out. I am ready to bear the consequences of my sin." As long as it doesn't cost me too much....
"Except, I have to do it?" she asked, as I nudged her out of her seat when we reached the library.
She sighed, picked up the book, and hopped out of the car.

Earlier in the day, I had gathered an assortment of Christmas cookies. My boys and Karissa wouldn't be in till the evening, so my day was free. I had called Comer at the assisted living center the day before. He was still feeling too poorly for our weekly outing, and Evelyn was still recovering from a bad fall. I had so wanted to take them out to see Christmas Lights.The nurses in the Alzhiemer unit felt it best she remain resting. But, I thought, I could still visit, and bring Christmas cookies.
I knocked on Comer's door. No answer. I knocked more loudly. Still no answer. I pounded on the door. Then I heard shuffling steps and the blinds peeked open a little. I jumped up and down waving at him.

"Well hello!" he said, opening the door, "What a surprise!"
"I couldn't take you out to see Christmas, so I brought Christmas to you," I said, handing him the cookies.
He smiled, and said, "Come in, come in!"
I sat on a straight back chair facing him as he settled in his recliner.
"How's Evelyn?" I asked.
"Not well," he said, his eyes misting, head shaking, "She's in bed now."
"Well take those cookies to her later and you two share them, ok? That will perk her up."
"You know she fell," he said.
"Yes, I know."
"She's gained a lot of weight. She won't eat anything herself, so I feed her, you know, coax every bite."
"Maybe you don't need to coax quite as much," I suggested.
"Yes, I have decided that," he agreed, "I can't pick her up when she falls anymore!"
"But don't stop coaxing till after she has the cookies. No one should diet at Christmas."
"It was just a question of time before she fell."
"Maybe she needs a walker," I said.
"Yes, we are coming to that conclusion. She certainly won't be dancing."
"Were you two good dancers?"
"Oh yes, won many contests. On a cruise ship out of hundreds of couples we won first place in the rumba."
He smiled with twinkling eyes, and I could tell he was envisioning his beautiful bride dancing on the polished floors as the ship swayed in the ocean.
"Do you have Christmas plans?" I asked. I knew that usually the two old people spent the holidays in the Home. Comer had told me before that the holidays were just another day in this place.
However, his sad eyes lifted and he said, "Yes! My daughter is coming to bring us to her home for Christmas brunch."
I knew that Comer had been there for Thanksgiving, but not Evelyn. I think it was very hard for the daughter to handle the blunt trauma of Alzheimers and as far as I knew, since being afflicted, the old couple had never been to the daughter's nearby home, but that once for Comer alone.
"Both of you?" I asked surprised.
"Yes," he said, beaming, "She is making Christmas brunch for both of us."
God bless you, daughter, I thought.

Having dropped the library book, Asherel and I continued on to finish our errands. We were walking between stores when a very thin and very old woman stepped away from the wall where she had been leaning.
"Do you have something to eat?" she asked.
My first thought was how much money we were spending with all the kids home and Christmas gifts, and Asherel's various lessons and activities. The woman looked at me, but I didn't get the sense she was seeing me. Her eyes looked empty. I glanced at the store we stood beside. It was the grocery store.
"No, but let's get you something," I said. Asherel and the woman followed as I turned into the store.
"What would you like?"
"Rotisserie Chicken," she said.
I smiled. At least she had not lost a sense of what she wanted. We went to the hot chicken and she chose one.
"Do you have a place to stay?" I asked.
"I am in the Women's shelter," she said.
"What happened that landed you there?"
"I lost my job two months ago."
"Oh, what did you do?"
"Computer chips," she said, then mumbled some other explanations, but I was busy trying to figure out the self check out system.
"Are you involved with a church?" I asked, handing her the chicken as we stepped out of the store.
"Yes, salvation army."
"Well God Bless you, and I hope you find a job. Jesus loves you."
Asherel and I walked on.
"I wonder if she really was homeless," I said.
"She had awfully nice clothes," said Asherel.
"Yes, I noticed that, but she was working until 2 months ago. I guess we will never know if she was just scamming us...but I figure if someone would stoop that low, they do need help. Maybe an act of kindness will spur them on to hope in something better for themselves."

All my children arrived home safely and we played Wii games, and lit the first Hanukkah candle. Karissa, my daughter in law, had never seen the giant book I had made when the boys were young that tells the Hanukkah story. She good naturedly read it out loud while my now grown kids submitted to hearing the story again, as I turned the giant pages with my illustrations in brightly colored markers.
"As we light the candles in this home," Karissa read, "We are reminded of how Jesus, Yeshua, was light to the world, and lights the soul of all who come to Him. We are reminded to spread the light."

Matthew 5:
¹⁴ “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. ¹⁵ Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.

How to Draw a Cat

2011-12-20T08:36:00.001-05:00

     You just never know what adventures await you at the FedEx store. As I entered with my package, a woman stood at the counter writing on her box, "Happy Holidays Fed Ex!"
   "That is so sweet!" I said.
     "Yes, just think of all the packages they have to lift this season."
     "That's true. I love that idea!"
     So I took the marker and wrote, "Happy Holidays, Fed Ex" on my package, and then drew a smiley face and put a Santa hat on it.
     "Wow," said the lady behind the counter.
      "That's really good!" said the lady with the other package.
I looked at my smiley face Santa. It had taken 3 seconds, and honestly was at the bottom of my totem pole of drawing skill. What had they seen that I was taking for granted?
     "Well....it is just a smiley face."
     "But the way you drew that hat...it is just really good."
     Hmmmm. I looked at it again to try and see it through their eyes, "I am an artist."
     "I can't even draw a cat," said the lady behind the counter a little sadly, "Just this morning my daughter, she's 2 years old, told me 'Mama, draw me a cat.' I just drew a blob. My daughter told me, 'That's not a cat, mama, draw me a cat."
    I laughed, " I can teach you how to draw a cat in ten seconds."
    "You can?"
     "Sure, got scrap paper?"
She quickly pulled some cashier tape off her roll. I picked up the magic marker again.
     "See, drawing is easy if you break it down into basic shapes. The head is a circle, the body is a triangle, the front legs are rectangles, back haunches half circles, and the paws are ovals. Then the tail is a banana shape. The ears are obviously triangles, the eyes lemon shapes, the nose a triangle, and the mouth a w."
     She peered at my drawing and took the magic marker from me. She repeated my steps out loud as she constructed her cat.
   "Well look at that," she said, looking happily at her drawing.
     "What's your daughter's name?"
     "Madison."
I took the magic marker and wrote on my drawing, "To Madison, Merry Christmas."
The lady clapped her hands and gathered up both drawings, "Well now I can draw a cat!"

     Thomas Paine once said, "The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."
This is often true, and helps me to wade through tortuous circumstances sometimes without giving up. However, sometimes the smaller the task, the easier the simple gesture of kindness, the more heart warming the triumph.
     One of my favorite stories from the Bible is when Elijah comes upon the widow of Zarephath. He is thirsty and hungry, but she is gathering the sticks for the last bit of food and water she and her son have. After they eat that tiny bit, they will lie down and die, she tells Elijah. With this cheery news, Elijah tells her that she should make him a loaf of bread to eat first, and then all will be well. I would likely have spit in his face, trying to take the bread out of my baby's mouth. However, the widow obeyed, with an act of infinite trust and kindness. She fed him her last loaf of bread. A tiny loaf, no doubt. An insignificant offering to the prophet of the most High and Holy God. As a result, her family never again ran out of bread and oil, and they provided not only for themselves, but for Elijah as well. Simple gestures of kindness never evaporate without a ripple of glory.
     I wish I could see the face of the sweating FedEx worker as he heaves two boxes in a row wishing him a Happy Holiday...or the face of little Madison when as if by magic, her mama who could not draw a cat this morning, could draw a cat tonight.

1 Kings 17:
⁷ Some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. ⁸ Then the word of the LORD came to him: ⁹ “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.” ¹⁰ So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?” ¹¹ As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”
¹² “As surely as the LORD your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.”
¹³ Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. ¹⁴ For this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD sends rain on the land.’”
¹⁵ She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. ¹⁶ For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the LORD spoken by Elijah.

Looking Past the Stain

2011-12-19T07:29:00.000-05:00

     I consort with some mighty amazing dogs....or at least their people. One such dog just finished her stint at the prestigious AKC Agility National Invitational. Only the best dogs get invited, a very small percentage of all the agile canines. My friend Danielle and her little Jack Russell Terrier, Dixie, were one of these elite agility teams invited to the national event in Orlando. I checked my Facebook page every few minutes hoping for updates on how Danielle and Dixie were doing. She sent pictures of the fun adventures they had on the way down, wandering beautiful Savannah, eating at fantastic seafood places, posing little Dixie in magnificent settings. I was so pleased that Danielle was making the whole week an adventure, not just the few minutes Dixie and she would actually be in the ring competing. Her wonderful friend and mentor Laura accompanied her, and there could not be a kinder more knowledgeable presence to be beside Danielle on this awesome adventure.
    The first Facebook post from the competition came in. Dixie had a clean Round 1. I cheered and told Asherel, who loves Danielle too. I had no idea how many rounds there were, but knew that Sunday was the day of the finals, for the dogs that advanced. This was Saturday, so I assumed there were two rounds, and then the finals. Later that evening, a second Facebook post came in. Dixie had been fast, but dropped a bar. I presumed that meant Dixie was out of it, since in all likelihood, the dogs that advanced had to have clean runs. However, I was really proud of Danielle. I suspected that for Dixie to have been fast, Danielle had taken risks rather than playing it safe. Playing it safe wasn't going to win at this level, so I admired her courage.
     Late that night, I got a text from Danielle asking me to encourage her, give her a pep talk.
     "She dropped that bar three jumps from the end. I just can't let it go," she said.
     I eagerly wrote back, sincerely filled with awe at what she had accomplished to reach this level.
     "You are never in control of the results," I told her, "But you can only be the best you can be at the moment. I love that you were fast and didn't hold back." I wrote some other stuff, including encouraging her to go get a huge ice cream sundae. She thanked me, and I prayed that she would indeed be comforted with how well she had done at her first Invitational AKC.
    I had assumed she was done. It turns out she wasn't. She had two more rounds. Had I known that, I might have encouraged in a different vein. She did well in the end, two clean rounds out of the four. She was "smokin' fast", beating out all the other Jack Russells in speed. All in all, it was a very good first nationals for her. But I was berating myself now that I had encouraged her inadequately. I had written what I wrote thinking she was all done, and now just needed to be satisfied with the results and the whole picture of her amazing accomplishments. Ugh. I had not offered the proper help at the proper time to my friend. I just couldn't let it go....

     The next day, I was reading a library book I had reserved months ago. A bestseller in a series, the brand new book had just come out and finally, it was in my hands! It glistened, hot off the press, perfect pages probably untouched by all but a handful of patrons before me. I sat down with a glass of red wine, and eagerly opened the book....and dripped red wine on the pristine, white pages.
    With horror I looked at the stain, and knew it was never coming out. What would happen now? Would I be thrown in jail and the key tossed into the muddy Mississippi? I tried to read the book, but instead of the pure,happy joy of reading the long awaited novel, I kept glancing at the purple stain, and lamenting what I could not undo. I would not like to share all the thoughts of how to evade the consequences of this disaster that leaped to mind. You would think less of me, and I don't want that to happen. I tried a little touch up bleach on the stain, and it did turn it a pretty blue instead of dark purple, but I could see that no matter what I did, the stain was not coming out. I googled "Getting wine stains out of new library books." You'd be surprised how many people were in a similar predicament. But the advice to all of us miscreants was the same, wherever I looked: "you are doomed." Many sites used a less family friendly word than "doomed." I decided to just read, and worry about what to do later, but my eyes hovered relentlessly on the stain.

   Danielle sent another Facebook post. She was on her way home. She said it had been an awesome experience, and one she was grateful to have been a part of. Her dog had not been perfect, but she was just one fault shy of being the top Jack Russell there! She had succeeded in moving on, I thought, in blotting the stain that had momentarily threatened to overtake the joy of the whole event.

     Of course, the supreme example of looking past the stain is God Himself. Though your sins be as scarlet, He tells us in Isaiah, I will make them white as snow.
     All sin? Even the awful things I've done?
     All. They will be blotted out forever; completely atoned for by the substitutionary sacrifice of Jesus.
     I don't mean to argue...that is really great....but we are getting off scot free. Somehow that doesn't seem fair.
     It isn't fair. It is mercy. I know how you just can't get past your stains.
     You know...I have some rounds left to go. I might not run clean, Lord.
     You won't. Do your best and remember, I am cheering you on.
     I am grateful Lord. Psst...do you have any extra heavenly stain cleaner that works on library books?

Psalm 32:
⁴ For day and night
   your hand was heavy on me;
my strength was sapped
   as in the heat of summer.^[a]
⁵ Then I acknowledged my sin to you
   and did not cover up my iniquity.
I said, “I will confess
   my transgressions to the LORD.”
And you forgave
   the guilt of my sin.
⁶ Therefore let all the faithful pray to you
   while you may be found;
surely the rising of the mighty waters
   will not reach them.

Kindred Spirits

2011-12-18T07:30:00.000-05:00

     On Saturdays when we aren't deluged with to-do lists, I drop Asherel at the barn she rides at- His Barn. For several hours, she and a handful of other teens volunteer. They do so because they want to be near horses, and also because Miss Jill, the single owner of this remarkable riding program, needs their help and they love Jill. Asherel has ridden here for years, with a brief foray into English riding.Jill's philosophy is one that I can fully embrace. Horses are one of God's creation, and riding/horse care can be done in such a way that His glory and creation is honored and He is magnified.
     Jill has to train the crew of teens and sometimes must wonder if the effort exceeds the results. Yet, she understands that in our urban,materialistic, computer based society, few kids understand the connection with nature. The Industrial revolution brought many wonderful things, but many wonderful things were lost.
     I always find it a little mystifying that the girl who loves to lie on the couch playing computer games, and moans when I order her outside to walk the dogs, or do chores...will gleefully get up early on Saturday (for her) and eagerly wave goodbye as the barn world envelops her. The work is hard, and she is usually exhausted when I pick her up several hours later, but the first thing she says when she sees me is,"Do I have to go?"
     "Can't I stay a little longer? We are letting the horses out soon," she asked as I found her with the group resting in the barn office. All of their pants were soaked from the knees down, doubtless from cleaning the troughs, which I had heard was on the agenda.
     "Sure," I answered, and went to sit in the van to wait, since it was a little cold outside. As I sat there, I watched Asherel take the horses out for a drink, and then run over to the bleachers along the riding ring. She climbed up on one where a fat cat was sunning itself. She gathered the cat in her arms. She was backlit by the sun and her hair streamed in the wind like a golden halo. She looked happy.
     I flashed back 45 years to when I was a young girl, working on a farm down the street from us. I used to race home every day after school, put on my old smelly barn clothes, and vanish to be with the horses, the goats, cows, cats, and dogs til dinner time. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I found myself a little choked up watching this girl who loved animals as much as I, and knew at a gut level that God created them to His glory, and our delight. I don't think it is any accident that in Proverbs 12, the righteous are linked with loving animals, and contrasted with the cruelty of the wicked.

Proverbs 12: 10
¹⁰ The righteous care for the needs of their animals,
   but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.

Asking Permission

2011-12-17T08:48:00.000-05:00

     "Ma'am, do you have a license to fly in the mall?" the security officer asked, his hand on his walkie talkie, in case these dangerous 14 year olds decided to bolt.
     The kids held their helicopters and looked down, allowing their fearless coach to deal with this unexpected bump in the road to Science Olympiad success. Could we go to jail for unauthorized rubber powered helicopter flying in the mall?
     "No," I said.
     "I am afraid I am going to have to shut you down," he said, self importantly, puffing out his blue chest. It was like we were going to have to be shutting down a nuclear reactor the way he said it, rather than just opening a cardboard box and putting the 4 gram copters away.
     "I did ask permission," I added. I did not add that I had asked permission last year, "And no one ever got back to me. I left several messages."
That was true, and in reality, I was miffed that my request hadn't even been acknowledged.
     Next I employed the very best tactic when one wants to appear like one is confident and in control of the situation. One sucks up to the person who is really in charge.
     "Do you have a name and number of someone that might return my calls? I understand you are just doing your job. We just hoped that since the mall didn't open til 10 it would be ok to be here."
     "Well the mall gets a little funny about flying things while people are near. It could cause problems, you know."
     Like what, for crying out loud? These are 4 gram helicopters of soft balsa with rubber band motors. I didn't say that, but I thought it.
    "So who can I ask?"
     "Well. I can ask Tina for you, she's in charge, but I am pretty sure it won't be allowed."
     "Tina! That is the person who never returned my calls! Can I leave you my cell number and have her call me?"
     The kids were quietly packing up our dangerous helicopters, disappointed, as we have yet to have a whole lot of success in our flight practices. We can practice in a nearby church, but only at limited times since they are so heavily used and they also don't want helicopters buzzing on parishioners heads. We need tall ceilings, like 3 or 4 stories tall, with no obstructions that could trap our copters. It has been nearly impossible to find this. We had hoped we could sneak in the mall during mall walking time before the stores open, but now that door was slammed in our criminal faces.
   Asking permission is at times a real drag on life. The word permission only occurs 12 times in the Bible, and so I can only conclude that asking permission is not a heavenly priority. In fact, in 11 of the 12 cases, it is someone (usually a righteous Godly one) asking permission of some tyrant who is in charge. The only example of permission being granted by a righteous ruler is when the demons who inhabited a man asked Jesus if they could be granted permission to instead inhabit a herd of pigs. Jesus grants them permission and then the pigs all race to a cliff edge, plunge over, and die. I have never understood that story. Were the demons making the pigs jump to their death? Were the pigs trying to escape the demons? And why on earth did the demons want to inhabit the pigs in the first place? Since I can't answer any of those questions, I will focus on the authority aspect of the whole thing. The demons got that part right.
     The only one with real authority is God, and yet how often do I ask Him permission to do anything? Most of the time, I just do it, and hope He approves. Maybe if I asked more frequently, life would proceed more smoothly. I suspect He is often shaking His head and telling the angels, "I am afraid you need to go in there again and shut her down."
     The angels then shake their heads, their halos tipping back and forth sadly, "You would think by now she would learn. She is so impulsive. Shall we send her into the herd of pigs?"
     "Now, now, Angelic host, let's see if we can bring her along more gently for now."
     "Sigh. OK, Lord, she's your creation. Let's go bail her out, sisters...."
   The next morning, I wrote to the church to ask permission to fly our copters.

Mark 5: 12-13
¹² The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” ¹³ He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.

The Reason for Leash Laws

2011-12-16T07:39:00.000-05:00

     The picture in the blog today was my view from 3 inches above the dog in my precarious perch in the tree. You will have to trust me that I could have drawn a much nicer picture if I were able to bend the fingers in my drawing hand without sharp pain as a result of this divine encounter. I was not bitten, though not through any lack of intent. I escaped being bitten by kicking at the attacking monster, which he skillfully evaded. However, I had the good fortune (?) to crash into a tree, which I then scrambled up. The dog was small so could not quite reach me. It took the owner 5 minutes to finally catch the snarling, leaping dog. This was the same owner who as I stopped in the road when the dog, hackles raised, first started walking stifflegged towards me, called out, "Oh he's fine. He won't hurt you."

     As I climbed out of the tree, the adrenaline rush that had sent my heart coursing and given that superhuman ability for a 50+ year old woman to scramble up a tree, now left in its wake a flood of muscle liquifying chemicals. I almost collapsed.
     "Are you ok?" asked the owner.
     Very calmly, I said, " I would like to say something, and I would like you to listen to me."
     At this point, I didn't even know I had slammed my arm, cut it, and the swelling must have pinched a nerve, making precise drawing of sharp canine teeth almost impossible.
     "This is the reason there is a leash law. Any dog can bite, and any dog can be territorial. If that had been my rescue dog your little dog came after, and my daughter were walking her, she would have strongly protected herself. There would have been a nasty fight, and if anyone were hurt, you and your dog would be responsible. You now know your dog cannot be trusted. I walk this route all the time. I do not want to have to worry this will ever happen again."
     "He ran out the back door," said the man lamely.
     "That's fine. I understand, but that dog should never be off leash outdoors."

     I staggered off and didn't burst into tears until I was out of sight. And just that very day, not even an hour prior to that run, I was determined to have a positive attitude for the rest of my life. My arm began to throb and I noticed the small wound from my climb into the tree. It hurt to move my fingers, and I wondered if I had chipped a bone.

     This post is for all the stupid dog owners. It is a harsh word, but I am really mad. No dog can be trusted 100 %. This was not a pitbull, doberman, rottweiler, or any of the so called bully breeds that attacked- it was a little mini dog, a rat terrier. I did nothing to provoke it and was walking on the other side of the street. There is a leash law for a reason. If a dog is approaching a human being or another dog, the owner should always stop, restrain the dog, and ask if that human wants you to approach. Never just assume your dog is friendly and thus you have the right to invade another person/dog's space. My dogs will attack if dogs rush up to them. They are friendly, but they feel threatened when leashed and other dogs come near. And if your dog has ever shown aggression, you better be vigilant and careful that the back door is never open when that dog is near. And finally, HINT, if a dog has its hackles up, it is the height of ignorance to proclaim, "Oh don't worry, he won't hurt you."

     -OK, Miss little prophet of the Most High, seeker of heavenly symbols...what did that one mean?
    - I am not sure. I think God is pointing out that no matter what happens in our own heart, evil is real, present, and a danger. We should always be vigilant.
    - People are going to laugh at you for being treed by a 10 inch tall dog.
- Maybe, but half its height was teeth.

      My hand feels almost normal this morning although it really hurts to touch the spot near the wound. I suspect if it were broken, I would feel worse than I do. Thank you for letting me rant and rave. Now I intend to return to my positive attitude for the rest of my life.

2 Corinthians 5: 9-10
⁹ So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. ¹⁰ For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.

Fantastic Being

2011-12-15T09:07:00.001-05:00

     Well, some slopes are open on the ski mountain, but the group decided that it was not water skiing they were after...and after a string of 60 degree days, the manmade snow was really more like manmade soup. So instead, we will look forward to a full day of exciting homeschool, learning about such perennial favorites as the Civil War, inhumane factory conditions, and maybe even a worm dissection.
     As you can imagine, Asherel is disappointed.
     But as I lay in bed this morning, I felt a distinct urging in my heart to look on the world with a more upbeat perspective. There is so much disappointment in life that it is sometimes very easy to wallow in it.
     I often pass a happy person on my neighborhood walks. She is an ex-principal of an elementary school. She is just the sort of person that should have been involved in childrens' lives. Every single time I see her, I always say, "How are you?" and she always answers, "Fantastic!"
     Always.
     Now we all know that no one is always fantastic. But if we dig deeply enough, somewhere we can find something of that level of delight. The word fantastic is derived from the Greek phantastikos, which roughly translates, producing mental images (e.g. fantasy). I find this quite liberating. I suspect that is also the origin of the ex-principal's state of constant fantasticness. If I can just produce mental images of optimistic delight, I can be fantastic every day too!
     I remember the recent visit home. I went with my mom to the doc's office to have her stitches removed.
     "Think calming thoughts!" I called after her, "Like green pastures and still waters!"
     So as I lay in bed this morning, conjuring fantastic thoughts, this is what I came up with:

Psalm 23

¹The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
²He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
³He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
⁴Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
⁵Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
⁶Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

Living With Anticipation

2011-12-14T07:29:00.000-05:00

     Of over one million books sold in the Kindle store, I am now ranked the 1,130 top selling book of all books. This includes all the bestsellers, all the classics, all the everything! Not that I am checking every 5 minutes to watch my rank change or anything so obsessive like that.....
   I keep hoping that on one of my visits to the site, I will see a row of 5 cherries click in to place, a whole bunch of bells and whistles will sound, and a gameshow host voice will shout out,"It's official! I'm Listening with a Broken Ear, Kaseorg's debut novel, has gone viral! Ding ding ding!" It could happen. Dreams can come true....
     In between clicking on my sales, I visit the ski slope update site of Sugar mountain, where we are supposed to go on our first ski trip of the season tomorrow. Each day, with the warm front hovering atop the mountain, the snow melts more, and the number of ski runs open dwindle. They are down to three runs open, at the moment. They do happen to be the runs we most use, but I doubt they will survive through the expected 60 degree day. I suspect our first day of skiing will not materialize.
     This is too bad on many levels. For one thing, it will be the second time our first ski date of the season will be canceled. And secondly, the car is already packed with our skis, boots, snowboards, jackets, mittens, hats, sunglasses, change of clothes, extra jackets, snowpants, wool sweaters, helmets, emergency rations, blankets, water bottles, emergency water, satellite radio, towels, tissues, suntan lotion, first aid kits, and full body emergency casts.
     "How long are you going for this ski trip?" asks the little Elf crouching in his corner of the car.
     "At least 6 or 7 hours," I tell him.
     "All this for one day of skiing?"
     "I like to be prepared."
     "And you did this how many days in advance?"
     "Only 5."
     " I see. And if skiing is canceled?"
     " I have to unpack it all. Because then a few days from now, both sons and one new wife will be home and I need the car to transport them and their stuff."
     "You live a good bit of your life in anticipation. Did you know that?"
     "Is that a compliment?"
     "How will you feel if your book doesn't go viral?"
     "Honestly? Disappointed."
     "Uh huh. And how will you feel if you have to unpack all this stuff without being able to use it when the ski day is canceled?"
     "Disappointed."
     "Then I don't think it is a compliment."
     "Now don't you think that is a little harsh? I mean the Bible talks about waiting in expectation."
     "About books selling or packing for ski dates a week in advance?"
     "Maybe not specifically, but all creation is waiting breathlessly and preparing. I'm just giving that pose of expectant waiting a dry run on smaller things."
     "You better be careful about how you apply Biblical verses to your life."
       I hang my head in shame as the little car elf crawls back under the seat.
     "By the way," his tiny voice calls from his hiding place, " I have my fingers crossed on that viral thing."

Romans 8: 18-21
¹⁸ I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. ¹⁹ For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. ²⁰ For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope ²¹ that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

Sniffing Deeply of Life

2011-12-13T09:09:00.000-05:00

    There is a small problem with the Christmas favorite- Bourbon Balls. These little innocuous sugar coated cookies can give you a hangover if you make them the way my mother did...and I always make them the way my mother did.
     I love the recipe she wrote for me when I left home and asked for all those special meals and treats she had made before she decided to boycott cooking forever.
     Bourbon balls: 2 c nuts, 1 lb. vanilla wafers, 3 T karo, and 3 oz. bourbon....or so....
     She always made them the or so way... and so do I. So yesterday, the house reeked of bourbon. At 10 a.m, my husband walked into the kitchen to see me poised at the counter with a bottle of bourbon in my hands. Not even a cup. It was like walking into the Bowery.
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.
   I made a double batch and mailed some to my mom. It was her favorite Christmas cookie, and drink...all in one small package. I freeze mine so that I don't eat them all before the kids come home. That rarely works. I almost always have to make another batch. I just chip my teeth eating frozen bourbon balls.
     After completing my baking for the day, I took the dogs on a walk. At one point, Honeybun must have found a particularly tantalizing scent because I started to walk forward, and my shoulder dislocated as she planted her feet and wouldn't budge. Her nose was sniffing a mile a minute, and she had crouched low to the ground so that I could not remove her from that scent no matter how hard I tried. I stood there 5 minutes, indulging her. After all, it is almost Christmas and I was filled with a charitable spirit. Finally, I wrenched her away. I wondered if smells for a dog were like a good book to me. Had I just forced her to slam shut the equivalent of a book she couldn't put down? We continued (she reluctantly) on, and I thought about all the little joys in life. Christmas memories, bourbon balls, wonderful smells. I remembered a Facebook post from a friend yesterday. All it said was "I am a blessed woman." No explanation. Just a recognition of blessedness.
     This is the proper attitude towards life, I thought. Smelling deeply of our profound blessings.

Psalm 34:
⁸ Taste and see that the LORD is good;
   blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

A Pumpkin Lover Makes my Day

2011-12-12T07:49:00.000-05:00

After an exhilarating run of almost 2,000 of my e-bboks snatched up during the free promotional, it is now full price again, a whopping $2.99, and I hope sales will still skyrocket being as now I would actually get paid for them....
However, I was paid in an unexpected way. Not with money, but as we all know, money can't buy happiness. (Don't get me wrong- go out and buy my book in droves so I can fully test that theory....) My payment came in a review from someone who calls herself "Love my Pumpkins". I have no idea who this is. I was looking at my book site which no longer shows me the ranking in my category since the promotion ended. But I did notice a new review. Pumpkin Lover stated better than I could what I had hoped to accomplish with my book. So today, I will post her review instead of my own thoughts because she was the encouraging voice of God channeled in my direction :

I just love this book. I'm sure my family/friends are sick of hearing me gush over it, but it really is a must-read. I don't care if you're atheist or "cat" person, it's the kind of compassion and self-depreciation that Vicky shows that really makes you want to be a better person yourself! This tale (tail?) ends up being a self-help book since you can't help but reflect on your own reliance and values.

First off, Kaseorg is a wonderful soul who grapples with her inner-monologue....dialogue....trialogue, if there is such a thing. There is a dog, Honeybun, who wants so little from life. But like most people, Kaseorg's world is stuffed full of "commitments" that she barely sees the space for this sad mutt. Unbeknownst to the author, Honeybun is barely a mutt but an American Dingo and a fantastic agility dog! What Kaseorg and her daughter teach this dog comes back to them ten-fold when this four-legged wonder gives them lessons on life.

"I'm Listening With a Broken Ear" isn't a 'happy-ending' kind or book, nor is is a 'happy-start'. It's the kind of book that gives you a correlation between spiritual beliefs (the Bible), familial controversies and good old-fashioned dog behavioral tips. Kudos to Kaseorg for putting into words what so many of us can't!

When I finished reading this review, I was in tears. So this is what I had set out to do, I thought! This Pumpkin Lover nailed it. I love how she reminds us...and me.... that time commitments can crowd out eternal blessings and prevent us from doing what we really should. Pumpkin Lover, whoever you are, Thankyou for that beautiful and encouraging reminder today.

Acts 15: 31
³¹ The people read it and were glad for its encouraging message.

A Book of Hope

2011-12-11T08:16:00.000-05:00

     My e-book version of I'm Listening With a Broken Ear is having a promotion. It was advertised to Kindle owners and offered free for download to any mobile device/computer/iPod for two days. For some reason, it is still free. I am not sure how long that will last. However, I had forgotten that they would be doing a promotion and just happened to check the website where I can track my book sales. I do that occasionally when I feel like tormenting myself and lowering my self esteem. It was in the morning yesterday.
     "That's odd," I told my husband Arvo, "I have sold a hundred books this morning."
     I then checked an hour later.
     "I have sold 300!" I was becoming famous and I wasn't even dead yet!
    Within the next hour, I had sold almost a thousand. I get no royalties during the promotion, but it didn't matter. My book was flying off the shelves. It had started as something like the 410,000 most popular e-book in it's category. By the end of the day, it soared to #2. Some people wrote to tell me they enjoyed the e-book so much that they were ordering the print version. The print version is currently about the 1 millionth best selling book on Amazon....but you just never know what a little promotion might do. A blizzard starts with one snowflake.
     My son Matt found the promotional site, which I had not even seen, and there were comments, from strangers all over the country. They said things like, "This one looks really good. I've started it and it is so interesting." Another comment said, "This one looks like a tear jerker. I don't want to read another sad dog story."
     NO! , I wanted to tell her, it is not another sad dog story! In this one the dog overcomes!The dog is even still alive when the book ends. This is a book of hope! This is the perfect book for Christmas. Similarly,who could have imagined that the story of a frightened, unmarried teenager who finds herself pregnant and then travels on a donkey hundreds of miles just before going into labor, and then huddles in a manger as there was no room in the inn to finally birth this seemingly illegitimate child would end so happily?
Speaker#1: Happily....? He ends up on the cross.
Speaker#2:   That's not the ending. You are forgetting what happened three days later.
Speaker#1:   Well yes...that part was happy.
Speaker#2:    And then what happens eternally to all who believe.....if that's not happy, I don't know what is!

    My son Matt called late that evening, "Mom, I got a call back on the Federal Reserve internship for this summer."
    It was a day full of hopeful surprises.

Psalm 31: 4
4 Be strong and take heart,
   all you who hope in the LORD.

Unexpected Rewards

2011-12-10T08:55:00.000-05:00

     A huge package arrived at my doorstep yesterday. It came from Williams Sonoma. I know little about this store except it is very expensive and exclusive and I could not imagine who would be sending me an enormous gift from such a place.
     I put the box on the counter and went back to work. I had called Comer, our elderly friend at the Nursing Home earlier in the week to suggest a Christmas Lights outing. I thought his wife Evelyn, even with Alzheimers eating away at her brain, would enjoy looking for homes covered with Christmas decorations. I had already put two Christmas music CDs in the car, knowing that Evelyn might not speak, but she would sing.
     "Hello," croaked Comer, answering the phone.
     "Comer! You don't sound so good."
     "I feel awful. Thought I was going to die."
     "Oh dear! I am so sorry! What is it?"
    "Feels like some flu, or bad sinus infection.I haven't left my bed in three days."
"Oh my! Well I was calling to invite you out to look at Christmas lights this week...but maybe we should wait til next week?"
"Yes, I couldn't go anywhere this week. I feel too poorly. I am getting better. I should be fine by next week."
"I know in the past Evelyn doesn't do well at night. Do you think she would be ok if we go out in the evening but we will go as soon as the sun sets?" Evelyn, like many people afflicted with Alzheimers, would sometimes become agitated at night. At least she used to. Since moving to the new facility where Comer was just down the hall, she had been doing much better emotionally.
"Oh, I don't know. You know she never speaks at all anymore. Still sings though."
"Well I have lots of Christmas music for her to sing. Listen, why don't you check with her nurse and let me know? We could go next week if you are feeling better."
"Oh, I am sure I will be," he said.
"Well then you rest, and I will call you next week. We will get yummy food and hot chocolate and go find beautiful homes dressed up for Christmas."
"Thank you darling," he said, his voice gravelly and strained.
   I hung up and returned to my computer woes. I had developed a GoogleGroup list for the Homeschool Ski Club I was forming, and already there were problems. Half the people had not received the invitation to join the Google Group, which meant I had to go back to my inbox, find every one who had written but not joined the group and then try to find another way to add them to the Group. I had been at it for hours.
     Volunteer work just doesn't pay, I thought. I glanced at the huge Sonoma Williams box. What could that be, and who had sent it? I didn't want to spoil a Christmas surprise by opening the card, but curiosity was overcoming my hesitance. I put it under the tree and my forehead grazed the sparkling Crystal Squirrel ornament. It spun on a silver thread, little blue gems in the eyes shimmery points of color. Every year, Asherel and I go out to look for one crystal ornament to add to our tree. My tree is decorated in all crystal clear onrnaments and white lights. It is very elegant. My mom had a tree like that, and I loved the simple elegance of it, so continued that tradition in our own home. Asherel and I usually take quite a while to agree on the yearly ornament, but as soon as we saw the squirrel, we both knew this was the one we wanted.
     "It reminds me of Squirrel Nutkin!" I said happily. Nutkin was a baby squirrel that had fallen from a tree in our yard a few years ago, rescued by Lucky from the freezing rain, and then restored to health by us. Ultimately, since he was only 6 weeks old when we saved him, we brought him to a rehab specialist who released him safely to the wild when he was fully grown. Asherel and I had loved our few weeks nursing the little baby who had almost died back to health.
   "Yes, let's get that one," said Asherel.
     I smiled at my little squirrel ornament and the happy memories it evoked.Then I sobered as I looked back at the computer and rubbed my wrist.The tendonitis from all my computer work was flaring and every word I typed hurt. But I had to fix the issues with the skiing google group. I had volunteered, and like it or not, I had to follow through now. I glanced at the mysterious package under the slowly swinging crystal squirrel. I could stand the suspense no longer. I opened the card on the giant expensively wrapped box.
   "Thank you for your kindness to my parents," the card said. It was from Comer and Evelyn's daughter.

Luke 14:

¹³ But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, ¹⁴ and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
¹⁵ When one of those at the table with him heard this, he said to Jesus, “Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God.”