Getting ready for 2014? There are a number of things that we could do to make 2014 a little bit better and more organized. You'll see that there are 14!!
1. Get one of those pill containers that has pockets for the days of the week, etc. It helps you stay on track with your medications/vitamins and tells you at a glance if you forgot to take them. The containers also save you time each day and are easy to throw into a purse or carry-on for travel.
2. When you put away your Christmas decorations, don't just throw in the ones you didn't use this year. If they need repairs, then fix them. If you aren't going to use them again, either toss them or recycle them. If they are decent, donate them.
3. Take your time putting away the Christmas stuff. You'll be awfully glad you did when you unearth everything again in December 2014. Wash the table cloths and put them away clean. Put all the wrapping supplies together so you can get to them earlier. Same with extra cards.
4. Get your car washed and then if it isn't too cold, clean out the inside while you are parked in the garage. Do the inside windows too. It will give you a little boost when you drive it the next time. Put some Kleenex in the car, a small first aid kit, and a blanket. Clean out the glove compartment.
5. Do some searches for ideas for Christmas 2014. I did, and I'm so glad!! I have all of my "handmade" gift ideas selected and know what I'll make for each of our children/family. That way I can start accumulating some of the supplies when it goes on sale and work on some of it during the blah January, February, March time.
6. Go through your recipes. Wait until you can sit in front of the TV and watch something, then go through each recipe and ask yourself a couple of questions. Are you EVER going to make this recipe? If you did make it, did you LIKE it? That should help you thin out your collection. (I need to follow my own advice. I have 3-ring binders full of recipes and they aren't organized whatsoever. So I can never find anything or USE anything I have.)
7. Replace batteries in your smoke detectors and purchase a carbon monoxide detector if you don't have one. It's worth it.
8. Make sure you have a couple of working flashlights. Ditto candles and matches.
9. Make a list of annoying little things that need fixing or tweaking in the house. Like, a squeaky door. Or loose door knobs. Or that stupid thing that covers up the bolts on the toilets. Then either fix the stuff yourself or find someone who can help you. Borrow someone's handy husband and give him a homemade meal for his family in exchange.
10. Start a nice donation pile for your favorite charity. Go through closets and start weeding out the clothes you aren't wearing this winter so far. Don't forget the dresser drawers.
11. I have a beautiful pair of earrings that I used to wear all the time. They need to be fixed, so I'm going to get them out and make a trip to the jewelry store and have them fixed this coming month.
12. Add a couple of pillows around the house to make it look cozier and also more colorful. Chase away the winter blahs this way. If you have pillows that look a bit worse for the wear, either recover them yourself or give them to someone who can recover them.
13. Look at what you've got hanging on the walls. Be honest. Does it look good? If not, start rethinking your décor and look for replacements. There will be lots of sales.
14. A friend of mine just took up quilting. I think she took a class at Joanne's. Another friend is taking a watercolor class at the Canton Art Institute. Think about spreading your wings and taking a chance on something new. It's good for the brain and the soul.
Aren't we blessed that God has given us time to explore this beautiful earth and also explore the gifts that he's given us in abundance? We shouldn't hide our talents under a basket -- develop them!! We are never too old.
Thanks, readers.
Light of Christ
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Coffinberry School
My friend, Dolly, who lives in Washington (state) and is a writer sent me at my bequest a memory of Coffinberry School where we attended elementary school, she and our friend, Debbie, one year behind me.
I'm going to make up some copies of Dolly's story and give them to the "Coffinberry kids" at my September 2014 reunion. Maybe they can add to it with their own recollections?
Here are some snippets that would be of more interest to the broader audience of this blog:
"I remember that in 3rd or 4th grade, we had a teacher named either Mrs. Riggs or Mrs. Briggs. It was said of Mrs. Riggs/Briggs that she'd once been a dancer in Las Vegas. And so, ever after, I had this picture of her, kicking up her legs and showing her garters, like a saloon girl in westerns. It was a happy picture. I liked her, she was pretty and nice and young and different. I probably gossiped about her -- the price of fame! And here she is, all these years later, remembered because she was different. Glamorous, like a movie star. I picture her with long, curly red hair, but that could just be me, wanting to paint on some color. She was radical, in her way. I'll bet there are "boys" who remember her still.
I didn't like gym class. Swimming was the only sport I got any enjoyment out of, and there was no pool at Coffinberry. There was square dancing, though; it was actually a part of the curriculum in, what? 4th, 5th, 6th grade? I liked it better than volleyball -- for a while, anyhow.
I remember having to back out of a classroom once, when I laughed so hard that I peed my pants. I wish I could say this was in kindergarten or 1st grade --- but it was in either 4th or 5th grade. (Oh, maybe 3rd, I don't know; I don't want to know.) I waited for everyone to leave before I exited the room. I don't remember if I had a coat to cover it, if anyone saw it, commented on it, or how I got home; I just remember the horror of it all.
I was exceptionally naïve and idealistic as a child. I thought every kid I knew came from a happy, normal family. I think I was jealous of that. I think that's why I could sometimes be unkind. It took being treated that way myself in later years for me to begin to understand it. What goes around, comes around.
(Dolly rented a car when visiting a friend in 1982; she returned to her former home and her former neighborhood.)
One day I rented a car and drove to my childhood home. Both my parents were dead and the house had been recently bought. I parked on the street, in front of the house that Judy Porter, and later, Essler Shank, lived in. No one answered when I knocked on our door, so I rounded the house, snapping pictures. Then I walked from there to Coffinberry Elementary. It was August, the heat like a fist. The street and the houses were very much as I remembered. Well-kept homes; tidy lawns (though not so green); curtains pulled against the sun. And it was so quiet, just my sandals tapping on the sidewalk. I didn't see a single person, not even someone driving by. I WANTED to, I wanted some sort of human connection, but it wasn't to be. Finally I reached the school. You know how they say things look smaller when you revisit them as an adult? Well, it wasn't that way for me. Everything looked the same, especially the school: long and low, unprepossessing. Probably there were changes, but if there were, they didn't register. It was closed, of course; I peered through the steel-enforced window of the front door, gazed down that shiny, gray corridor, and knew just what it smelled like though I couldn't smell a thing. I know the school is gone now. I'm glad I was there in 1982; for whatever reasons, I really needed to see it.
As a child, I had a book by A.A. Milne, called, "Now We are 6". When I was six, I thought the whole world was contained within the streets, the people and the school of my childhood. I thought I owned that neighborhood and always would. I don't know if I ever completely stopped thinking that way until that visit in 1982, when I walked that same route, on the very same sidewalks my feet had trod 4 times a day, 2 semesters a year for 7 years, and felt not a scintilla of ownership or belonging, or even love. The philosopher Heraclitus said something like, You can't put your food into the same river twice, and I guess that applies here, too. At least that's how it is for me. How it has to be."
Dolly, Debbie and I went to the same school and yet our memories are quite different. I'm not entirely sure why and perhaps I can chalk that up to the fact that life in Coffinberry wasn't very happy for me. It started out okay in first grade, but with my ADD and all, I just didn't find my legs in that school.
That's another thing to write down on your "bucket list." Visit your old elementary school if it still exists. If you walked to school, try walking the same route, like Dolly did. Let yourself remember the little you.
I thank Dolly for sharing with me. She is probably one of the most honest, caring people I've ever known. We've been friends since I was five and she was four. That kind of thing doesn't happen all the time. Thank you, God, for Dolly.
I'm going to make up some copies of Dolly's story and give them to the "Coffinberry kids" at my September 2014 reunion. Maybe they can add to it with their own recollections?
Here are some snippets that would be of more interest to the broader audience of this blog:
"I remember that in 3rd or 4th grade, we had a teacher named either Mrs. Riggs or Mrs. Briggs. It was said of Mrs. Riggs/Briggs that she'd once been a dancer in Las Vegas. And so, ever after, I had this picture of her, kicking up her legs and showing her garters, like a saloon girl in westerns. It was a happy picture. I liked her, she was pretty and nice and young and different. I probably gossiped about her -- the price of fame! And here she is, all these years later, remembered because she was different. Glamorous, like a movie star. I picture her with long, curly red hair, but that could just be me, wanting to paint on some color. She was radical, in her way. I'll bet there are "boys" who remember her still.
I didn't like gym class. Swimming was the only sport I got any enjoyment out of, and there was no pool at Coffinberry. There was square dancing, though; it was actually a part of the curriculum in, what? 4th, 5th, 6th grade? I liked it better than volleyball -- for a while, anyhow.
I remember having to back out of a classroom once, when I laughed so hard that I peed my pants. I wish I could say this was in kindergarten or 1st grade --- but it was in either 4th or 5th grade. (Oh, maybe 3rd, I don't know; I don't want to know.) I waited for everyone to leave before I exited the room. I don't remember if I had a coat to cover it, if anyone saw it, commented on it, or how I got home; I just remember the horror of it all.
I was exceptionally naïve and idealistic as a child. I thought every kid I knew came from a happy, normal family. I think I was jealous of that. I think that's why I could sometimes be unkind. It took being treated that way myself in later years for me to begin to understand it. What goes around, comes around.
(Dolly rented a car when visiting a friend in 1982; she returned to her former home and her former neighborhood.)
One day I rented a car and drove to my childhood home. Both my parents were dead and the house had been recently bought. I parked on the street, in front of the house that Judy Porter, and later, Essler Shank, lived in. No one answered when I knocked on our door, so I rounded the house, snapping pictures. Then I walked from there to Coffinberry Elementary. It was August, the heat like a fist. The street and the houses were very much as I remembered. Well-kept homes; tidy lawns (though not so green); curtains pulled against the sun. And it was so quiet, just my sandals tapping on the sidewalk. I didn't see a single person, not even someone driving by. I WANTED to, I wanted some sort of human connection, but it wasn't to be. Finally I reached the school. You know how they say things look smaller when you revisit them as an adult? Well, it wasn't that way for me. Everything looked the same, especially the school: long and low, unprepossessing. Probably there were changes, but if there were, they didn't register. It was closed, of course; I peered through the steel-enforced window of the front door, gazed down that shiny, gray corridor, and knew just what it smelled like though I couldn't smell a thing. I know the school is gone now. I'm glad I was there in 1982; for whatever reasons, I really needed to see it.
As a child, I had a book by A.A. Milne, called, "Now We are 6". When I was six, I thought the whole world was contained within the streets, the people and the school of my childhood. I thought I owned that neighborhood and always would. I don't know if I ever completely stopped thinking that way until that visit in 1982, when I walked that same route, on the very same sidewalks my feet had trod 4 times a day, 2 semesters a year for 7 years, and felt not a scintilla of ownership or belonging, or even love. The philosopher Heraclitus said something like, You can't put your food into the same river twice, and I guess that applies here, too. At least that's how it is for me. How it has to be."
Dolly, Debbie and I went to the same school and yet our memories are quite different. I'm not entirely sure why and perhaps I can chalk that up to the fact that life in Coffinberry wasn't very happy for me. It started out okay in first grade, but with my ADD and all, I just didn't find my legs in that school.
That's another thing to write down on your "bucket list." Visit your old elementary school if it still exists. If you walked to school, try walking the same route, like Dolly did. Let yourself remember the little you.
I thank Dolly for sharing with me. She is probably one of the most honest, caring people I've ever known. We've been friends since I was five and she was four. That kind of thing doesn't happen all the time. Thank you, God, for Dolly.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Friday -- Not so Chipper
Felt good yesterday and I ate a pretty big supper. Today, not doing so great. I might have a touch of something because my head "feels funny."
At any rate, this is likely going to be a bit short today.
We got a Christmas card from Eric's cousin who lives in Denmark. She is 71 and has two boys, almost the exact ages of my sons. They are both married and have children. One of the boys and his wife just welcomed a little girl on September 11th. She said that they always remember that date because of USA. She'll be baptized in a couple of weeks and her name is going to be Karen. Isn't that something?
Eric's cousin came to the United States in the 60s for a visit. She speaks English well although she admits that she is rusty. Her letters though are easy to figure out and she is a savvy person. She sews and has other hobbies, used to work in a doctor's office and is retired.
She's going on holiday, as she calls it, to New Zealand in a month or two. I admire her zest for life.
Her name sounds like it should be a man's name -- Gunvar Hansen. I really like her; and in her clipped style she said in her way, we need to stay in touch more often. I couldn't agree more.
So as this new year is approaching, think about some of the folks you've lost touch with and do some reacquainting. The worst thing that could happen is that you don't have anything much in common anymore. Right?
I made a list of people who indicated that they'd like to talk on the phone or meet for coffee/tea, or people who need an email or a letter. So that way I don't go back into my rut of doing the same things all the time.
Well -- say some prayers for Luke, the little boy who has been battling cancer. His mom is worried about some test scores that he got back. Luke is probably getting close to four years old and they've really fought a good fight. He is still getting some chemotherapy. Let's shower heaven with our prayers for Luke!!
Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
At any rate, this is likely going to be a bit short today.
We got a Christmas card from Eric's cousin who lives in Denmark. She is 71 and has two boys, almost the exact ages of my sons. They are both married and have children. One of the boys and his wife just welcomed a little girl on September 11th. She said that they always remember that date because of USA. She'll be baptized in a couple of weeks and her name is going to be Karen. Isn't that something?
Eric's cousin came to the United States in the 60s for a visit. She speaks English well although she admits that she is rusty. Her letters though are easy to figure out and she is a savvy person. She sews and has other hobbies, used to work in a doctor's office and is retired.
She's going on holiday, as she calls it, to New Zealand in a month or two. I admire her zest for life.
Her name sounds like it should be a man's name -- Gunvar Hansen. I really like her; and in her clipped style she said in her way, we need to stay in touch more often. I couldn't agree more.
So as this new year is approaching, think about some of the folks you've lost touch with and do some reacquainting. The worst thing that could happen is that you don't have anything much in common anymore. Right?
I made a list of people who indicated that they'd like to talk on the phone or meet for coffee/tea, or people who need an email or a letter. So that way I don't go back into my rut of doing the same things all the time.
Well -- say some prayers for Luke, the little boy who has been battling cancer. His mom is worried about some test scores that he got back. Luke is probably getting close to four years old and they've really fought a good fight. He is still getting some chemotherapy. Let's shower heaven with our prayers for Luke!!
Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Christmas Wrap-Up
The basement looks pretty decent, other than some assorted boxes, bags and tiny pieces of wrapping paper here and there. Just a day and a half ago, it was bedlam and we had a great time!
First of all, the mermaid tail feet my granddaughter perfectly. She wore it for quite a while, and then exchanged it for her "Ariel with feet" presence, since her Aunt Dani bought her an Ariel nightgown that twirled when she would spin around. I'll try to send the picture from the upstairs computer down to this one for you to see tomorrow. The tutu and bandeau top that I made for Ella fit her well too and she also wore her outfit for a long time, dancing about and smiling constantly.
But I wanted to share with you an idea that was hatched years ago, and finally seemed to come together on Christmas Eve. It's called "The Christmas Penny Game." So here goes -- save this idea for next year and make Christmas memories for your family.
Use 3 x 5 cards and put a sticker or something colorful on the front, in assorted sizes and shapes. Then on the back, write a question or a statement. Here are some of the ones I wrote way back then (the cards are yellowed).
1. Sing a Christmas Song -- just a little bit -- and get 5 cents.
2. Name the reindeer -- 10 cents
3. Sing Jingle Bells. For everyone else who sings with you -- 3 cents each.
4. Who is your best friend at school? - 3 cents
5. Lottery ticket
6. Laundry detergent fee -- Pay the banker 5 cents
7. Name each person in the room -- 5 cents
8. Promise Mom you'll help clean up -- 10 cents
9. What are you most thankful for this year? - 5 cents
10. Clap your hands and give everyone "five." Collect 5 cents
11. The Christmas elves feel left out -- give 2 cents to the banker.
12. Tell us your favorite candy and collect 2 cents.
13. Stinky feet? Help those with stinky feet. Donate 5 cents to the fund.
14. What do shepherds do? - 5 cents
15. The grinch has green teeth. Help him buy a toothbrush. 2 cents to the banker
The banker holds the cards and reads the questions. Gather all of the kids around or make it for grownups too (just make the questions a little more challenging), and then let it go.
Some of the funny questions/answers we got were:
Make a bow or a curtsey. Jacob, 10, asked what a bow was. Apparently, he didn't know, so he stood up and did an honest-to-gosh curtsey, holding out the sides of his pants like a dress. Oh, my gosh. That was funny.
Ella got Santa loves a big smile. Smile nicely and collect 5 cents. Ella gave us a beautiful, happy Christmas smile! Can't beat that.
Zachary got "Shake hands with everyone." So at 14 he didn't balk and got up out of his chair, going from person to person and giving a nice, grown-up handshake. Worth something?
Give everyone some pennies up front, like maybe 10. Then make sure to have LOTS of pennies because they go fast.
So I hope all of you had a great Christmas, and now we move into post-holiday mode. It's kind of sad because Christmas 2013 is over, but we can keep the joy in our hearts and mull over the memories for a long time.
Talk to you tomorrow.
PS -- sorry about typos (can't fix). The mermaid tail "fit" my granddaughter perfectly, in case I messed you up on that one.
First of all, the mermaid tail feet my granddaughter perfectly. She wore it for quite a while, and then exchanged it for her "Ariel with feet" presence, since her Aunt Dani bought her an Ariel nightgown that twirled when she would spin around. I'll try to send the picture from the upstairs computer down to this one for you to see tomorrow. The tutu and bandeau top that I made for Ella fit her well too and she also wore her outfit for a long time, dancing about and smiling constantly.
But I wanted to share with you an idea that was hatched years ago, and finally seemed to come together on Christmas Eve. It's called "The Christmas Penny Game." So here goes -- save this idea for next year and make Christmas memories for your family.
Use 3 x 5 cards and put a sticker or something colorful on the front, in assorted sizes and shapes. Then on the back, write a question or a statement. Here are some of the ones I wrote way back then (the cards are yellowed).
1. Sing a Christmas Song -- just a little bit -- and get 5 cents.
2. Name the reindeer -- 10 cents
3. Sing Jingle Bells. For everyone else who sings with you -- 3 cents each.
4. Who is your best friend at school? - 3 cents
5. Lottery ticket
6. Laundry detergent fee -- Pay the banker 5 cents
7. Name each person in the room -- 5 cents
8. Promise Mom you'll help clean up -- 10 cents
9. What are you most thankful for this year? - 5 cents
10. Clap your hands and give everyone "five." Collect 5 cents
11. The Christmas elves feel left out -- give 2 cents to the banker.
12. Tell us your favorite candy and collect 2 cents.
13. Stinky feet? Help those with stinky feet. Donate 5 cents to the fund.
14. What do shepherds do? - 5 cents
15. The grinch has green teeth. Help him buy a toothbrush. 2 cents to the banker
The banker holds the cards and reads the questions. Gather all of the kids around or make it for grownups too (just make the questions a little more challenging), and then let it go.
Some of the funny questions/answers we got were:
Make a bow or a curtsey. Jacob, 10, asked what a bow was. Apparently, he didn't know, so he stood up and did an honest-to-gosh curtsey, holding out the sides of his pants like a dress. Oh, my gosh. That was funny.
Ella got Santa loves a big smile. Smile nicely and collect 5 cents. Ella gave us a beautiful, happy Christmas smile! Can't beat that.
Zachary got "Shake hands with everyone." So at 14 he didn't balk and got up out of his chair, going from person to person and giving a nice, grown-up handshake. Worth something?
Give everyone some pennies up front, like maybe 10. Then make sure to have LOTS of pennies because they go fast.
So I hope all of you had a great Christmas, and now we move into post-holiday mode. It's kind of sad because Christmas 2013 is over, but we can keep the joy in our hearts and mull over the memories for a long time.
Talk to you tomorrow.
PS -- sorry about typos (can't fix). The mermaid tail "fit" my granddaughter perfectly, in case I messed you up on that one.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Expectations
Can you remember what it was like when you were little and waiting for Christmas to come? It felt like time was pulling a huge ball on a chain behind it. Everything slowed down to a trickle and then finally it was time.
At our house, we celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. So my grandfather and unmarried aunt would come over to celebrate but that was a little later. Before that, around 5:00 p.m., my father would suggest that we take a ride to look at the lights. We never said, "No, we'd rather wait around here and see Santa when he comes." We dutifully climbed into the old sedan and off we went in search of fabulous lighting displays. Once I think we went to Nela (not sure if I spelled that right) Park to see their display.
But we'd only be gone maybe an hour and then when we returned, surprise, surprise, surprise, Santa had come and all of the presents were under the tree. We were just going crazy!
Of all of those Christmases, I can remember only a very few presents. I remember a Tiny Tears doll, a battery operated doll clothes washing machine, a sewing machine, a baby doll cradle someone must have made, and that's about it. What I can remember is family. All of us gathered in the warm house, eating my mother's fabulous cookies, and spending time together.
In the days before Christmas, we used the tree to play "I Spy." Here's how it went. "I spy something red." And then you'd have to point to an ornament that matched the description. And maybe you were "hot" or maybe you were "cold." It was fun. Someone must have read us the old classic, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, because I can remember that well.
Now, going to bed after opening the presents wasn't easy. We didn't want to go to bed, ever. But we finally did, usually taking one toy up with us. Then we'd wake up early, scamper down the stairs and start playing again until the dreaded words, "It's time to get ready for church."
But we all went and then afterwards, returned for a day of play and eating and visiting. It was bliss!!
Each one of us can only hope that we've given our own children enough memories so that they can recreate those feelings at Christmas too.
Have a most blessed and Merry Christmas, all of you. Thanks for reading. I'll be spending time with family, cooking, cleaning, and all of that stuff so I'll be back Thursday morning.
Take care.
Say a prayer for Tim Yingling. He fell a good distance and shattered his elbow yesterday. He's got little kids and his mom is a good friend of mine.
At our house, we celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. So my grandfather and unmarried aunt would come over to celebrate but that was a little later. Before that, around 5:00 p.m., my father would suggest that we take a ride to look at the lights. We never said, "No, we'd rather wait around here and see Santa when he comes." We dutifully climbed into the old sedan and off we went in search of fabulous lighting displays. Once I think we went to Nela (not sure if I spelled that right) Park to see their display.
But we'd only be gone maybe an hour and then when we returned, surprise, surprise, surprise, Santa had come and all of the presents were under the tree. We were just going crazy!
Of all of those Christmases, I can remember only a very few presents. I remember a Tiny Tears doll, a battery operated doll clothes washing machine, a sewing machine, a baby doll cradle someone must have made, and that's about it. What I can remember is family. All of us gathered in the warm house, eating my mother's fabulous cookies, and spending time together.
In the days before Christmas, we used the tree to play "I Spy." Here's how it went. "I spy something red." And then you'd have to point to an ornament that matched the description. And maybe you were "hot" or maybe you were "cold." It was fun. Someone must have read us the old classic, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, because I can remember that well.
Now, going to bed after opening the presents wasn't easy. We didn't want to go to bed, ever. But we finally did, usually taking one toy up with us. Then we'd wake up early, scamper down the stairs and start playing again until the dreaded words, "It's time to get ready for church."
But we all went and then afterwards, returned for a day of play and eating and visiting. It was bliss!!
Each one of us can only hope that we've given our own children enough memories so that they can recreate those feelings at Christmas too.
Have a most blessed and Merry Christmas, all of you. Thanks for reading. I'll be spending time with family, cooking, cleaning, and all of that stuff so I'll be back Thursday morning.
Take care.
Say a prayer for Tim Yingling. He fell a good distance and shattered his elbow yesterday. He's got little kids and his mom is a good friend of mine.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Second to Last
Due to Christmas, the blog will be updated with a new post today, and then again on Monday. No posting on Tuesday or Wednesday. Back on Thursday morning, okay?
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My dear friend, Lucy, whom I met at Kent State University lives in Wickliffe. We always say we're going to get together but we don't. We do talk on the phone on occasion and she is the same, down-to-earth, caring, compassionate person that she was more than 40 years ago.
Lucy is Italian and their family roots apparently spring from the northern areas because Lucy is fair-skinned and has auburn hair (or the last time I saw her, she did). She is short and smiles a lot, and she has soulful brown eyes.
When I met Lucy she had already met the love of her live, Ron, and then she got engaged. Ron was already launched out in the real world and he'd come to campus every Friday night to pick up Lucy. Theirs often seemed like a storybook relationship. Right after college, the two married and by this time Ron was in the service. They traveled to Germany and there had their first daughter. When they returned, they settled in Wickliffe down the street from her mother's house and had three more children.
When Ron was about 38, he started having some health problems and went to the doctor for it. The doctor's treatment did not include some tests, because in his words, "You're too young for cancer." He wasn't. It was colon cancer. Lucy prayed so hard for Ron. Through their church she organized a bus trip for people who needed healing and as the day for them to leave got closer, Ron couldn't make the trip. Lucy went instead, a very brave thing to do, especially leaving Ron behind.
When she came back, she immediately noticed a change in Ron. No more bitterness, no more anger, only a strong faith in God. That, she said, was the miracle and that, she said, is why she was supposed to go on that trip. Ron lost his fight with cancer and died at age 39, leaving Lucy (who had always been a tad timid) to raise three girls and a boy. And she did this well, with wonderful assistance from her devoted brother and her parents. Then her dad died, so that both she and her mother were widows.
On the Christmas card I received yesterday, Lucy's handwritten note said that her wonderful mom died in June. I know that because of Ron's death and because of her father's death, Lucy and her sweet mother were much closer. Her mother always made pizzelles, the anise-flavored flat cookies that Italians like to make. In fact, Lucy had told me a few years ago, her mother got a new pizzelle iron at 80+ years old.
So today I think of Lucy and the much more somber first Christmas without the family matriarch. And I think of the love and faith of this strong family who while always respecting the other's pride, offered help and aid whenever needed.
Like in the movie, Polar Express, the bell that can only be heard when you "believe," to me means to believe in Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Let us hold the bell to our ears and listen to the beautiful choirs of angels!! Let us believe.
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My dear friend, Lucy, whom I met at Kent State University lives in Wickliffe. We always say we're going to get together but we don't. We do talk on the phone on occasion and she is the same, down-to-earth, caring, compassionate person that she was more than 40 years ago.
Lucy is Italian and their family roots apparently spring from the northern areas because Lucy is fair-skinned and has auburn hair (or the last time I saw her, she did). She is short and smiles a lot, and she has soulful brown eyes.
When I met Lucy she had already met the love of her live, Ron, and then she got engaged. Ron was already launched out in the real world and he'd come to campus every Friday night to pick up Lucy. Theirs often seemed like a storybook relationship. Right after college, the two married and by this time Ron was in the service. They traveled to Germany and there had their first daughter. When they returned, they settled in Wickliffe down the street from her mother's house and had three more children.
When Ron was about 38, he started having some health problems and went to the doctor for it. The doctor's treatment did not include some tests, because in his words, "You're too young for cancer." He wasn't. It was colon cancer. Lucy prayed so hard for Ron. Through their church she organized a bus trip for people who needed healing and as the day for them to leave got closer, Ron couldn't make the trip. Lucy went instead, a very brave thing to do, especially leaving Ron behind.
When she came back, she immediately noticed a change in Ron. No more bitterness, no more anger, only a strong faith in God. That, she said, was the miracle and that, she said, is why she was supposed to go on that trip. Ron lost his fight with cancer and died at age 39, leaving Lucy (who had always been a tad timid) to raise three girls and a boy. And she did this well, with wonderful assistance from her devoted brother and her parents. Then her dad died, so that both she and her mother were widows.
On the Christmas card I received yesterday, Lucy's handwritten note said that her wonderful mom died in June. I know that because of Ron's death and because of her father's death, Lucy and her sweet mother were much closer. Her mother always made pizzelles, the anise-flavored flat cookies that Italians like to make. In fact, Lucy had told me a few years ago, her mother got a new pizzelle iron at 80+ years old.
So today I think of Lucy and the much more somber first Christmas without the family matriarch. And I think of the love and faith of this strong family who while always respecting the other's pride, offered help and aid whenever needed.
Like in the movie, Polar Express, the bell that can only be heard when you "believe," to me means to believe in Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Let us hold the bell to our ears and listen to the beautiful choirs of angels!! Let us believe.
Friday, December 20, 2013
A New Knife
Several months back my husband returned from a trip to BJs Wholesale Club with a Cuisinart porcelain knife. I'd heard about them and seen a few advertised on TV but had never used one before.
The knife is amazing! Cutting vegetables is almost fun. Salad greens? It does a wonderful job and because it's porcelain, you don't get browned edges on the head lettuce. It's incredibly sharp so watch the finger tips please.
We used the knife on something with bones which is a no-no. It is the one thing that will chip the knife and it did do that. Several small chips are visible. But it hasn't ruined the knife by any means and it still cuts better than anything else in the knife drawer.
So I recommend this knife to all the readers. A happy cook cooks more!
So here we are on December 20th with just days to go until Christmas. How can we tie knives into all of this?
We need to know ourselves well enough to realize that some things are just not good for us. Maybe it's a certain type of TV program or maybe watching too much political discussion on TV. Maybe it's a hobby that has gotten out of hand, eating too much of our time and pulling us away from our loved ones. Maybe it's our "smart" phone. Maybe it's texting. Maybe it's certain reading material. Maybe it's sitting too much OR running too much. With knife-like precision, we need to take the big step of cutting things out of our lives that we know in our guts are not good.
An innocent drive up to Cleveland to the casino? Maybe not good for us if we have certain tendencies.
As we head into Christmas and then beyond to the first day of the new year, everyone will be talking about resolutions. What shall we resolve to do in 2014?
Before we can resolve anything, we need to cut out those things in our life that would make almost any resolution less likely to stick.
So each time I get out the porcelain knife from the knife drawer, I'm going to think about what in my life needs to be cut out or cut down. It's something to think about.
Have you made your cookies yet? I'm done as of yesterday and so happy about it. Take care, readers.
The knife is amazing! Cutting vegetables is almost fun. Salad greens? It does a wonderful job and because it's porcelain, you don't get browned edges on the head lettuce. It's incredibly sharp so watch the finger tips please.
We used the knife on something with bones which is a no-no. It is the one thing that will chip the knife and it did do that. Several small chips are visible. But it hasn't ruined the knife by any means and it still cuts better than anything else in the knife drawer.
So I recommend this knife to all the readers. A happy cook cooks more!
So here we are on December 20th with just days to go until Christmas. How can we tie knives into all of this?
We need to know ourselves well enough to realize that some things are just not good for us. Maybe it's a certain type of TV program or maybe watching too much political discussion on TV. Maybe it's a hobby that has gotten out of hand, eating too much of our time and pulling us away from our loved ones. Maybe it's our "smart" phone. Maybe it's texting. Maybe it's certain reading material. Maybe it's sitting too much OR running too much. With knife-like precision, we need to take the big step of cutting things out of our lives that we know in our guts are not good.
An innocent drive up to Cleveland to the casino? Maybe not good for us if we have certain tendencies.
As we head into Christmas and then beyond to the first day of the new year, everyone will be talking about resolutions. What shall we resolve to do in 2014?
Before we can resolve anything, we need to cut out those things in our life that would make almost any resolution less likely to stick.
So each time I get out the porcelain knife from the knife drawer, I'm going to think about what in my life needs to be cut out or cut down. It's something to think about.
Have you made your cookies yet? I'm done as of yesterday and so happy about it. Take care, readers.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Cold Down Here
I'm down here in the frozen wasteland of the basement again -- I thought the upstairs computer was finally fixed yesterday so that the blog tools were once again showing up -- but nope. This morning we're back to square one.
Thinking about life in a small town, I gave some attention to what I was seeing as I went to get Lauren from school yesterday. The library has a spectacular curb appeal and is a lovely structure. In front of the city hall the ice scuptures from the December 7th events in town were still in great condition. Some of the students learning to do the sculptures at The University of Akron have been coming to town for the past couple of years to show their stuff.
The old potato chip factory, now Matt and Troy's Barber Shop, still sits like a little cottage at the edge of a parking lot. The blue church (Old Salem) with its squared off tower makes High Street look very quaint. The former Church of Christ is now a business. Behind them is the place where everyone goes for wheel alignments. Business, residential, all mixed together in a nice little harmonious way.
At the side entrance to the school (now called Holy Name Academy, SS Philip & James Campus) is always fun to watch beause right around 3:00 p.m. a few kids always emerge to clean the erasers. Like kids have been doing for literally centuries!! I love it. One day I was treated to something a little different. A blond boy came out with erasers and then with energy to spare started doing perfect cartwheels and round-offs in the parking lot. Must be a gymnast I figured.
There was a huge school at the corner of Locust and Rt. 93 back in the day with a belfry and a huge bell. It was constructed of brick but had lots of wood in it. At some point it was torn down and the bricks went to form the bottom of the lake at Clay's Park Resort. Where the school building stood is a playground with little more than a basketball court and some swings. And yet as soon as there is a small break in the weather scores of kids from all over come to play pick-up basketball games.
The Lions creche scene is at the old Exchange Bank building. The Christmas tree is right across the street in a niche by Karen's Sewing and the Thai restaurant.
The angers, resentments and hatreds seem to avoid the little town and there are no controversies about this group or that. It's refreshing.
And so as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus with our families and communities, let us not take for granted the wonders all around us.
Say a little prayer that I can figure out what's wrong with the upstairs computer!!
Thanks, everyone.
Thinking about life in a small town, I gave some attention to what I was seeing as I went to get Lauren from school yesterday. The library has a spectacular curb appeal and is a lovely structure. In front of the city hall the ice scuptures from the December 7th events in town were still in great condition. Some of the students learning to do the sculptures at The University of Akron have been coming to town for the past couple of years to show their stuff.
The old potato chip factory, now Matt and Troy's Barber Shop, still sits like a little cottage at the edge of a parking lot. The blue church (Old Salem) with its squared off tower makes High Street look very quaint. The former Church of Christ is now a business. Behind them is the place where everyone goes for wheel alignments. Business, residential, all mixed together in a nice little harmonious way.
At the side entrance to the school (now called Holy Name Academy, SS Philip & James Campus) is always fun to watch beause right around 3:00 p.m. a few kids always emerge to clean the erasers. Like kids have been doing for literally centuries!! I love it. One day I was treated to something a little different. A blond boy came out with erasers and then with energy to spare started doing perfect cartwheels and round-offs in the parking lot. Must be a gymnast I figured.
There was a huge school at the corner of Locust and Rt. 93 back in the day with a belfry and a huge bell. It was constructed of brick but had lots of wood in it. At some point it was torn down and the bricks went to form the bottom of the lake at Clay's Park Resort. Where the school building stood is a playground with little more than a basketball court and some swings. And yet as soon as there is a small break in the weather scores of kids from all over come to play pick-up basketball games.
The Lions creche scene is at the old Exchange Bank building. The Christmas tree is right across the street in a niche by Karen's Sewing and the Thai restaurant.
The angers, resentments and hatreds seem to avoid the little town and there are no controversies about this group or that. It's refreshing.
And so as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus with our families and communities, let us not take for granted the wonders all around us.
Say a little prayer that I can figure out what's wrong with the upstairs computer!!
Thanks, everyone.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Missing Hiker
We watched North Woods Law last night which is filmed in Maine and features the game wardens who are specially trained in all kinds of things.
This episode ended a little differently than most of them do -- the woman who they were searching for was not found. Her family was left with no answers to where their 66-year-old wife and mother is.
She had been hiking the trail with help from her husband who would meet her every so often and replenish her food and water. She had texted him on the day before she went missing, saying that she intended to spend the night in a lean-to along the trail. As far as anyone can tell, she didn't make it that far.
Lost in a huge wooded area, one that has peaks and valleys, dense forests, and hazards especially to one unfamiliar with it. How frightening! They presume she died somewhere but have been unable to locate one single thing that belonged to her -- backpack, tent, brightly colored coat. Dogs were used to search, and then cadaver dogs were brought in, but they still found nothing. The family posted a $15,000 reward.
The search launched to find Gerry Largay was probably the biggest one ever along the trail. Helicopters came in, game wardens participated, and of course, the dogs. Everyone was horribly frustrated that no trace of the former nurse was found.
The hike was on Gerry's bucket list. It was something she'd always wanted to do, and her dream was coming true.
Personally, the story touched me and so I'm going to pray that they find her, find out what happened to her.
The song, Amazing Grace, says, "I once was lost and now I'm found." The kind of lost the song talks about is one that affects many, many people. Lost because they do not know God and thus they cannot possibly find the right way to go. As I get older, increasingly, I'm struck by the difference between people who have faith and those who do not.
We should always pray for those who are spiritually lost. The Bible shows us that Jesus cares for us like the lambs that the shepherds cared for back at the time that Jesus was born. Like the shepherds who do the very same thing today. The lambs hear the voice of the shepherd and respond, but respond to none other. Think about that -- to no other voice. And when we allow God to get in a word edgewise, we learn to hear only one voice - God's.
If you think about, say a prayer for Gerry Largay's family. Christmas must seem so sad for them.
Take care, friends.
This episode ended a little differently than most of them do -- the woman who they were searching for was not found. Her family was left with no answers to where their 66-year-old wife and mother is.
She had been hiking the trail with help from her husband who would meet her every so often and replenish her food and water. She had texted him on the day before she went missing, saying that she intended to spend the night in a lean-to along the trail. As far as anyone can tell, she didn't make it that far.
Lost in a huge wooded area, one that has peaks and valleys, dense forests, and hazards especially to one unfamiliar with it. How frightening! They presume she died somewhere but have been unable to locate one single thing that belonged to her -- backpack, tent, brightly colored coat. Dogs were used to search, and then cadaver dogs were brought in, but they still found nothing. The family posted a $15,000 reward.
The search launched to find Gerry Largay was probably the biggest one ever along the trail. Helicopters came in, game wardens participated, and of course, the dogs. Everyone was horribly frustrated that no trace of the former nurse was found.
The hike was on Gerry's bucket list. It was something she'd always wanted to do, and her dream was coming true.
Personally, the story touched me and so I'm going to pray that they find her, find out what happened to her.
The song, Amazing Grace, says, "I once was lost and now I'm found." The kind of lost the song talks about is one that affects many, many people. Lost because they do not know God and thus they cannot possibly find the right way to go. As I get older, increasingly, I'm struck by the difference between people who have faith and those who do not.
We should always pray for those who are spiritually lost. The Bible shows us that Jesus cares for us like the lambs that the shepherds cared for back at the time that Jesus was born. Like the shepherds who do the very same thing today. The lambs hear the voice of the shepherd and respond, but respond to none other. Think about that -- to no other voice. And when we allow God to get in a word edgewise, we learn to hear only one voice - God's.
If you think about, say a prayer for Gerry Largay's family. Christmas must seem so sad for them.
Take care, friends.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Beat Up
According to a recent article in The Liguorian, we tend to beat ourselves up over how we pray. Since our tendency is to do that which we do well most often, prayer can get pushed into the back seat of our lives all too easily.
So the message here today is to pray anyhow. No matter how many times you are distracted, or how many times you went through the words of a prayer only to realize that your mind wasn't in it, or how many times you had to start and stop. Persevere in prayer. Those half prayers or partial prayers still reach God in his heaven and they still assist those who need them. For our infinite God knows our ways and he understands our weaknesses. But He does ask us to try.
If you have a quiet place to go, that is at least a start. But sometimes quiet when you haven't had much of it is just as disarming. I can just imagine our brains unloading all kinds of junk and stimuli that we've been trying to ignore the very second that we stop and become still.
If all you can do is maybe three prayers and then take a rest, that's fine. It's kind of like starting to exercise. If you haven't done any exercising in a while, the first time or two is really rough. And the next day it might even be worse!! So we have to condition our lives in prayer.
Maybe we will never achieve the amazing concentration of a cloistered religious but our prayers will change our lives and help those who need the prayers.
Some people keep a prayer note where they jot down those in need of prayer. That way they have a clear idea of what they are trying to do. Some people just breathe in the quiet and let God bring the names of people to their mind. Maybe a combination of the two is a good way to pray.
Start out your prayers with a passage from the Bible. Something that makes your mind move from the physical realm to the spiritual. Let the words of the passage flow through the mind like a stream washing away sediment and fallen leaves. And then, begin.
How blessed are we who can pray to God without feeling the pangs of hunger or being bitterly cold or who must hide from those who would punish us for it. And so let us pray.
I hope your Christmas preparations are going well, readers. Bless all of you.
So the message here today is to pray anyhow. No matter how many times you are distracted, or how many times you went through the words of a prayer only to realize that your mind wasn't in it, or how many times you had to start and stop. Persevere in prayer. Those half prayers or partial prayers still reach God in his heaven and they still assist those who need them. For our infinite God knows our ways and he understands our weaknesses. But He does ask us to try.
If you have a quiet place to go, that is at least a start. But sometimes quiet when you haven't had much of it is just as disarming. I can just imagine our brains unloading all kinds of junk and stimuli that we've been trying to ignore the very second that we stop and become still.
If all you can do is maybe three prayers and then take a rest, that's fine. It's kind of like starting to exercise. If you haven't done any exercising in a while, the first time or two is really rough. And the next day it might even be worse!! So we have to condition our lives in prayer.
Maybe we will never achieve the amazing concentration of a cloistered religious but our prayers will change our lives and help those who need the prayers.
Some people keep a prayer note where they jot down those in need of prayer. That way they have a clear idea of what they are trying to do. Some people just breathe in the quiet and let God bring the names of people to their mind. Maybe a combination of the two is a good way to pray.
Start out your prayers with a passage from the Bible. Something that makes your mind move from the physical realm to the spiritual. Let the words of the passage flow through the mind like a stream washing away sediment and fallen leaves. And then, begin.
How blessed are we who can pray to God without feeling the pangs of hunger or being bitterly cold or who must hide from those who would punish us for it. And so let us pray.
I hope your Christmas preparations are going well, readers. Bless all of you.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Let It Snow
A soft snow is falling right now, and it's a GREAT day to stay in the house, bake some cookies, and finish up some craft projects, don't you think?
First order of business -- if you want to receive the blog messages when they are posted, go all the way to the bottom of the page and check out the "subscribe" information. I don't know if it works yet, but I'm going to try it out myself.
Second, a continuation of the story about the six-year-old who kissed the girl's hand and got in trouble. I figured I'd ask my granddaughter when she came over after school yesterday just what she would do. The exchange went as follows:
Me: So what if a boy from your class really liked you and he leaned over and kissed your hand. Would that bother you?
Lauren: (she shrugged) No, not really. That's what (I'm changing names here) Billy did to Susie. And Susie is going crazy!
Me: Why, because she's excited that Billy kissed her hand?
Lauren: Yes. But they said they weren't going to kiss on the mouth!!
Meanwhile, apparently there was some kind of disruption during lunch and two kids got in trouble for messing around with the mistletoe. They weren't messing around UNDER the mistletoe, just being curious.
So that takes care of that. I can see that Lauren can easily take care of herself and she rolls with things.
Third, we saw a really corny movie last night on Lifetime but the best part was that a jealous, greedy woman who was supposed to increase sales at an iconic department store got fired. She brought in guys that looked somewhat like Chippendales and awful music, and pink Christmas trees. And as they turned off her dancing male models, one of the stars of the show started singing "Noel" I think it was! My husband who'd sat through the whole thing without much grumbling said that the last song was worth it. I agree.
(I read the sentence above and see that I neglected to say, she turned off the monitors showing the dancing male models.) Told you, I can't fix anything on the postings.
Enjoy a cozy day at home if you can!!
First order of business -- if you want to receive the blog messages when they are posted, go all the way to the bottom of the page and check out the "subscribe" information. I don't know if it works yet, but I'm going to try it out myself.
Second, a continuation of the story about the six-year-old who kissed the girl's hand and got in trouble. I figured I'd ask my granddaughter when she came over after school yesterday just what she would do. The exchange went as follows:
Me: So what if a boy from your class really liked you and he leaned over and kissed your hand. Would that bother you?
Lauren: (she shrugged) No, not really. That's what (I'm changing names here) Billy did to Susie. And Susie is going crazy!
Me: Why, because she's excited that Billy kissed her hand?
Lauren: Yes. But they said they weren't going to kiss on the mouth!!
Meanwhile, apparently there was some kind of disruption during lunch and two kids got in trouble for messing around with the mistletoe. They weren't messing around UNDER the mistletoe, just being curious.
So that takes care of that. I can see that Lauren can easily take care of herself and she rolls with things.
Third, we saw a really corny movie last night on Lifetime but the best part was that a jealous, greedy woman who was supposed to increase sales at an iconic department store got fired. She brought in guys that looked somewhat like Chippendales and awful music, and pink Christmas trees. And as they turned off her dancing male models, one of the stars of the show started singing "Noel" I think it was! My husband who'd sat through the whole thing without much grumbling said that the last song was worth it. I agree.
(I read the sentence above and see that I neglected to say, she turned off the monitors showing the dancing male models.) Told you, I can't fix anything on the postings.
Enjoy a cozy day at home if you can!!
Friday, December 13, 2013
Good Trip
The trip yesterday was really nice. My sister and I went to Bob Evans and had a delicious lunch, sitting away from the windows to keep even warmer. Then we did a little cleaning so she'd be ready for Christmas Day company.
Starting in Clinton where I saw two police cruisers (one sort of hidden in the parking lot by the towpath), my trip to and from was dotted by the appearance of police, Ohio Highway Patrol, and so on. There were cars pulled over and police waiting in the turnarounds to catch some more speeders. Not that I had to worry. I was not speeding and so glad that I wasn't.
The skies might have been a drab gray color but it was really nice seeing my sister and spending some time with her. Good thing I left right around 3:00 because later on there were a lot of traffic problems and backups.
So my day went more or less as planned. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Whereas, a man we are praying for started a day a few days back by having a colonoscopy and then learning shortly thereafter that he only has 10 days to live. In other words, while he and his family were making their plans for Christmas and doing the usual things that people do, his life turned on a dime and now he might not even make it to Christmas. So we really need to pray for him and his family. For them everything is virtually turned upside down and Christmas has taken a back seat to cancer.
That's why time is precious and God-given. That's why we should start each day thanking God for another opportunity to serve.
I'm down the basement again and one thing about the basement, it's quiet. Just a little humming from the computer and monitor. It gives me a chance to take measure of everything and wonder anew at the amazing mercy of our God.
As you are driving around, going about your business, let God show you some people he wants you to say a prayer for. Some weeks back a black SUV passed by and for some reason I just knew that I had to pray for that driver. I haven't forgotten the black SUV since, even though time has passed and it was a second or two in time. That's God at work!!
We all need prayer, right? Take it easy, my blog friends.
Starting in Clinton where I saw two police cruisers (one sort of hidden in the parking lot by the towpath), my trip to and from was dotted by the appearance of police, Ohio Highway Patrol, and so on. There were cars pulled over and police waiting in the turnarounds to catch some more speeders. Not that I had to worry. I was not speeding and so glad that I wasn't.
The skies might have been a drab gray color but it was really nice seeing my sister and spending some time with her. Good thing I left right around 3:00 because later on there were a lot of traffic problems and backups.
So my day went more or less as planned. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Whereas, a man we are praying for started a day a few days back by having a colonoscopy and then learning shortly thereafter that he only has 10 days to live. In other words, while he and his family were making their plans for Christmas and doing the usual things that people do, his life turned on a dime and now he might not even make it to Christmas. So we really need to pray for him and his family. For them everything is virtually turned upside down and Christmas has taken a back seat to cancer.
That's why time is precious and God-given. That's why we should start each day thanking God for another opportunity to serve.
I'm down the basement again and one thing about the basement, it's quiet. Just a little humming from the computer and monitor. It gives me a chance to take measure of everything and wonder anew at the amazing mercy of our God.
As you are driving around, going about your business, let God show you some people he wants you to say a prayer for. Some weeks back a black SUV passed by and for some reason I just knew that I had to pray for that driver. I haven't forgotten the black SUV since, even though time has passed and it was a second or two in time. That's God at work!!
We all need prayer, right? Take it easy, my blog friends.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Common Sense
Only in the glaring light of day can some nonsensical things be seen as they really are. In the past couple of days, we've seen a little boy on TV who made the grave mistake of kissing a little girl's hand. Apparently, he likes her.
I can remember lots of examples like that from school. One that sticks in my mind is Jack who liked my sister a lot too. He didn't kiss her hand. He was roughhousing and ripped her coat sleeve. He was never cited for anything and my mother simply got her sewing kit out and fixed the coat. Good as new. And my mother, having the wisdom that she did, told my sister that the reason Jack had behaved as he did was because he did like her.
This little boy seems like a nice fellow. He is six and full of exuberance. The little girl was uncomfortable that he kissed her hand. I'm just not sure that making such a big deal of this whole thing does her any favors either, only that anytime she's uncomfortable all heck breaks loose. There was a day when girls knew full well how to defend themselves against a hand kiss!! And a much better defense than sexual harassment.
It's nearly Christmas time again. Maybe the school administrators were a little tired that day and out of patience. Whatever, the whole mess just reeks of silliness.
Another boy got into trouble because he made a gesture as though he had a sword or something. I can't remember the details, but it was again one of those silly things that just did not merit the attention it got.
In schools that because of a very few individuals don't have prayer, we still have to find ways to teach children to love and care for one another, to be tolerant of one another, to put up with one another because after all this is the greatest lesson that any of us could possibly hope to learn in life.
So I'm off to Westlake today and going out into the frozen tundra. Do you know what the frozen tundra is? I didn't really understand until a couple of years ago when we were watching a TV program. It's the grassy land that covers much of the upper north and in the summer it is wet and spongy, but in the winter when the winds and temperatures go to work, the grassy areas become hard and frozen solid. Let's be careful out there today!!!
I can remember lots of examples like that from school. One that sticks in my mind is Jack who liked my sister a lot too. He didn't kiss her hand. He was roughhousing and ripped her coat sleeve. He was never cited for anything and my mother simply got her sewing kit out and fixed the coat. Good as new. And my mother, having the wisdom that she did, told my sister that the reason Jack had behaved as he did was because he did like her.
This little boy seems like a nice fellow. He is six and full of exuberance. The little girl was uncomfortable that he kissed her hand. I'm just not sure that making such a big deal of this whole thing does her any favors either, only that anytime she's uncomfortable all heck breaks loose. There was a day when girls knew full well how to defend themselves against a hand kiss!! And a much better defense than sexual harassment.
It's nearly Christmas time again. Maybe the school administrators were a little tired that day and out of patience. Whatever, the whole mess just reeks of silliness.
Another boy got into trouble because he made a gesture as though he had a sword or something. I can't remember the details, but it was again one of those silly things that just did not merit the attention it got.
In schools that because of a very few individuals don't have prayer, we still have to find ways to teach children to love and care for one another, to be tolerant of one another, to put up with one another because after all this is the greatest lesson that any of us could possibly hope to learn in life.
So I'm off to Westlake today and going out into the frozen tundra. Do you know what the frozen tundra is? I didn't really understand until a couple of years ago when we were watching a TV program. It's the grassy land that covers much of the upper north and in the summer it is wet and spongy, but in the winter when the winds and temperatures go to work, the grassy areas become hard and frozen solid. Let's be careful out there today!!!
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
The Wise Still Seek Him
A Christmas card that we just received today has the message, "The Wise Still Seek Him," and it shows a depiction of the three wise men on camels heading to Bethlehem.
The magi as we refer to the three wise men left their homes and traveled a long way from the east to follow a star. These were men who studied the heavens and knew the movements of the solar system and yet were so amazed by the appearance of a star that they went in search of where it was leading.
And they brought with them precious, expensive gifts. They were received by a king and did not gift the king with their gifts, so far as we know. After they found Jesus, they presented the gifts to him, this future king, and then because of a dream did not do as they said they would (return to Herod) but instead went home by another route. These men were godly in that they were receptive to and obeyed the message.
Today intelligence oftens pulls people away from God because it would seem that discoveries have answers for everything. And yet, some of the most intelligent people have been pulled towards God because of their discoveries. Because at the end of the day they realized that through science the amazing complexity of a human being was impossible to explain by mere cells and atoms.
We too then must leave the comforts that we enjoy so much and seek out a relationship with God, give God a place in our souls, relinquish our need to control everything, trust.
I was looking at a coloring book that my grandchildren received during a recent visit to Canal Fulton when they saw Santa Claus. It was stamped, "Toys Time Forgot." And so I mentioned this to my son, "Oh, you went to Canal Fulton?" And my grandson misunderstood my words. He said, "I want to see God." He must have thought I said, "Toys Time for God." How sweet! How real his curiosity! And how do we get a true glimpse of God? Look at the face of a small child.
And I close with John 3:16 -- For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever shall believe in Him shall have life everlasting." Amen.
The magi as we refer to the three wise men left their homes and traveled a long way from the east to follow a star. These were men who studied the heavens and knew the movements of the solar system and yet were so amazed by the appearance of a star that they went in search of where it was leading.
And they brought with them precious, expensive gifts. They were received by a king and did not gift the king with their gifts, so far as we know. After they found Jesus, they presented the gifts to him, this future king, and then because of a dream did not do as they said they would (return to Herod) but instead went home by another route. These men were godly in that they were receptive to and obeyed the message.
Today intelligence oftens pulls people away from God because it would seem that discoveries have answers for everything. And yet, some of the most intelligent people have been pulled towards God because of their discoveries. Because at the end of the day they realized that through science the amazing complexity of a human being was impossible to explain by mere cells and atoms.
We too then must leave the comforts that we enjoy so much and seek out a relationship with God, give God a place in our souls, relinquish our need to control everything, trust.
I was looking at a coloring book that my grandchildren received during a recent visit to Canal Fulton when they saw Santa Claus. It was stamped, "Toys Time Forgot." And so I mentioned this to my son, "Oh, you went to Canal Fulton?" And my grandson misunderstood my words. He said, "I want to see God." He must have thought I said, "Toys Time for God." How sweet! How real his curiosity! And how do we get a true glimpse of God? Look at the face of a small child.
And I close with John 3:16 -- For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever shall believe in Him shall have life everlasting." Amen.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The Mermaid's Tail
My granddaughter has been asking for a mermaid's tail for about two years now. I figured she'd forget about, outgrow it, or move on -- but she perseveres. So this year after the sticker shock of seeing that mermaid tails are going for around $40-50 at the cheapest, I figured the old sewing machine from Christmas 1960 could spit out something decent.
Isn't it funny that in the story of The Little Mermaid, Ariel wants feet and my granddaughter who has two nice feet wants a tail? Kind of screwed up, isn't it? It's a little like the Gift of the Magi, the famous O'Henry story where the man sells his watch to get money to buy his wife hair combs, while his wife sold her hair to buy a watch fob for her husband. This is a story that used to be told a lot at Christmas. But it's still relevant.
So I went to the fabric store and found something really nice, a blue-green color. Since it was see-through I used some interfacing already in my sewing supplies. But I kind of messed up the "pattern" and had to get some more fabric for the body part of it. Which turned out for the best because it has stretch, although the old sewing machine didn't know how to handle the material and had fits and starts.
Still, it turned out pretty well and there was enough fabric left for a top too. Now her mom and dad can watch her immobilized on the couch wearing her new tail and actually being happy about it. That should last for a little while at least.
All of this talk of Christmas reminds me of how my own wishes and wants have changed. These days I'm just overjoyed for a healthy family, for a change to get together and share some humor, for good warm food on the table, for the opportunity to worship our God. Sure, I like "things" and have things in far more plenty than I need, but the desire to accumulate more and more material goods has diminished a lot. And it could diminish more!!
(If you see any typos, know that I see them too, but once typed the only working computer in order to post something new does not let me go back and make corrections. It's very humbling!)
And that last sentence is AWKWARD!
Remember those who are alone for Christmas, and pray for those who are sick or in pain. Let us prepare ourselves as we approach the lighting of the third Advent candle this coming Sunday.
Isn't it funny that in the story of The Little Mermaid, Ariel wants feet and my granddaughter who has two nice feet wants a tail? Kind of screwed up, isn't it? It's a little like the Gift of the Magi, the famous O'Henry story where the man sells his watch to get money to buy his wife hair combs, while his wife sold her hair to buy a watch fob for her husband. This is a story that used to be told a lot at Christmas. But it's still relevant.
So I went to the fabric store and found something really nice, a blue-green color. Since it was see-through I used some interfacing already in my sewing supplies. But I kind of messed up the "pattern" and had to get some more fabric for the body part of it. Which turned out for the best because it has stretch, although the old sewing machine didn't know how to handle the material and had fits and starts.
Still, it turned out pretty well and there was enough fabric left for a top too. Now her mom and dad can watch her immobilized on the couch wearing her new tail and actually being happy about it. That should last for a little while at least.
All of this talk of Christmas reminds me of how my own wishes and wants have changed. These days I'm just overjoyed for a healthy family, for a change to get together and share some humor, for good warm food on the table, for the opportunity to worship our God. Sure, I like "things" and have things in far more plenty than I need, but the desire to accumulate more and more material goods has diminished a lot. And it could diminish more!!
(If you see any typos, know that I see them too, but once typed the only working computer in order to post something new does not let me go back and make corrections. It's very humbling!)
And that last sentence is AWKWARD!
Remember those who are alone for Christmas, and pray for those who are sick or in pain. Let us prepare ourselves as we approach the lighting of the third Advent candle this coming Sunday.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
The Last Christmas
The last Christmas with my mother was in 1960. She was 52 and not doing very well. I was 14 and worried.
Instead of the usual live tree that we put up in the big living room window, she got one of those new-fangled aluminum trees lit up by the colored disk that turned around and around. We went outside to see how it looked at dark. I took a picture of it so it was immortalized. It was hideous.
My mother just couldn't do the things she had always done, but she tried. I'm sure she made some cookies, she ordered presents for us, and she put out some of the decorations like the white reindeer on the mantle. No matter what, there was a sadness about that Christmas because anyone with eyes could see that my mother was fading.
We all have have this kind of story to tell -- the "lasts." The last time for this, the last time for that, and we tend to remember because deep inside of ourselves, no matter how much denial we are working on, we knew that all was not well.
Christmas was by far my mother's favorite holiday, and she usually went overboard. There was Fannie Farmer candy hidden away somewhere so it wouldn't be eaten before Christmas Eve at least. There were her marvelous cookies stored in a huge porcelain roaster. There were the presents that she tried so hard to get just right. There was a box of candy for the teacher at school and for the nun from CCD. My mother loved to give!
Yesterday they were talking about the lessons that we can learn from Nelson Mandela of South Africa. He was asked during an interview in prison many years ago how it was that he could continue and he said they could not take away his mind. A gentleman from South Africa said that Mandela's life was shaped by an African way of life that says more or less, "I am among others." I'm paraphrasing here, but rather than the isolated view of, "I think therefore I am," this philosphy emphasizes how well we relate to those around us.
My mother must have embraced that kind of thinking because no matter where she went, she never forgot the people around her by being self-absorbed. It might be African or Christian, but we do spend our lives around others. How do we relate?
When I see the aluminum trees these days, it doesn't bring the same reaction that it did in the years following her death in March 1961. Because I know where my mother is, and she is full of joy for her favorite holiday, Christmas, is coming.
Instead of the usual live tree that we put up in the big living room window, she got one of those new-fangled aluminum trees lit up by the colored disk that turned around and around. We went outside to see how it looked at dark. I took a picture of it so it was immortalized. It was hideous.
My mother just couldn't do the things she had always done, but she tried. I'm sure she made some cookies, she ordered presents for us, and she put out some of the decorations like the white reindeer on the mantle. No matter what, there was a sadness about that Christmas because anyone with eyes could see that my mother was fading.
We all have have this kind of story to tell -- the "lasts." The last time for this, the last time for that, and we tend to remember because deep inside of ourselves, no matter how much denial we are working on, we knew that all was not well.
Christmas was by far my mother's favorite holiday, and she usually went overboard. There was Fannie Farmer candy hidden away somewhere so it wouldn't be eaten before Christmas Eve at least. There were her marvelous cookies stored in a huge porcelain roaster. There were the presents that she tried so hard to get just right. There was a box of candy for the teacher at school and for the nun from CCD. My mother loved to give!
Yesterday they were talking about the lessons that we can learn from Nelson Mandela of South Africa. He was asked during an interview in prison many years ago how it was that he could continue and he said they could not take away his mind. A gentleman from South Africa said that Mandela's life was shaped by an African way of life that says more or less, "I am among others." I'm paraphrasing here, but rather than the isolated view of, "I think therefore I am," this philosphy emphasizes how well we relate to those around us.
My mother must have embraced that kind of thinking because no matter where she went, she never forgot the people around her by being self-absorbed. It might be African or Christian, but we do spend our lives around others. How do we relate?
When I see the aluminum trees these days, it doesn't bring the same reaction that it did in the years following her death in March 1961. Because I know where my mother is, and she is full of joy for her favorite holiday, Christmas, is coming.
Friday, December 6, 2013
A Little Bit of Stink
In the past couple of months, we've noticed some bugs in the house. To be precise, we've noticed "stink bugs." Did my husband perhaps carry one in the house on his clothes and it multiplied? Or did they somehow find a little nest somewhere?
We don't know, but I don't like them one bit. For one thing, they really are supposed to stink bad. One article warned not to suck them up in the vacuum cleaner unless you were planning on emptying the bag afterwards. Why? When they are stressed, apparently they give off even more of their peculiar scent. So when we catch them, they go right out a door or window.
They seem drawn to the light, and then once they touch the bulb, they fall like a rock to the floor. The cats seem to like all of this, but they don't really mess with them. They locate them and "point" to them kind of like those famous hunting dogs. After all of the food we've given to them and all of the extras, they are finally doing a little work around here.
I'll keep you posted on our progress to rid the house of these annoying bugs about the size of a dime.
Now -- onto another subject for a bit. Last night we watched "live" theater on television as The Sound of Music was presented starring country singing star, Carrie Underwood. It was excellent! Ms. Underwood has a great voice, and the entire cast just sparkled. The convent's Mother Superior was particularly good. The sets were unbelievable. The stained glass windows in the convent were spectacular. I could hardly take my eyes off them. We DVR'd it but the presentation is on sale in stores now; I believe Walmart carries them. This was family entertainment at its very, very best. I hope it was hugely successful and spurs on many more of these kinds of things.
It made me proud of the efforts put forth by everyone involved in the project.
I hope Julie Andrews watched and was pleased. I forgot to mention the costumes!!
So I'm down the basement again, and have not located the source of my error message that is messing around with the blog in the upstairs computer!! Thing is, I have to be somewhat careful, because I know just enough to really get myself in trouble. At least I can continue on with the blog thanks to old trusty down here.
If you did not have a chance to see The Sound of Music, it would make a great Christmas gift for someone in your family. Talk to you tomorrow.
We don't know, but I don't like them one bit. For one thing, they really are supposed to stink bad. One article warned not to suck them up in the vacuum cleaner unless you were planning on emptying the bag afterwards. Why? When they are stressed, apparently they give off even more of their peculiar scent. So when we catch them, they go right out a door or window.
They seem drawn to the light, and then once they touch the bulb, they fall like a rock to the floor. The cats seem to like all of this, but they don't really mess with them. They locate them and "point" to them kind of like those famous hunting dogs. After all of the food we've given to them and all of the extras, they are finally doing a little work around here.
I'll keep you posted on our progress to rid the house of these annoying bugs about the size of a dime.
Now -- onto another subject for a bit. Last night we watched "live" theater on television as The Sound of Music was presented starring country singing star, Carrie Underwood. It was excellent! Ms. Underwood has a great voice, and the entire cast just sparkled. The convent's Mother Superior was particularly good. The sets were unbelievable. The stained glass windows in the convent were spectacular. I could hardly take my eyes off them. We DVR'd it but the presentation is on sale in stores now; I believe Walmart carries them. This was family entertainment at its very, very best. I hope it was hugely successful and spurs on many more of these kinds of things.
It made me proud of the efforts put forth by everyone involved in the project.
I hope Julie Andrews watched and was pleased. I forgot to mention the costumes!!
So I'm down the basement again, and have not located the source of my error message that is messing around with the blog in the upstairs computer!! Thing is, I have to be somewhat careful, because I know just enough to really get myself in trouble. At least I can continue on with the blog thanks to old trusty down here.
If you did not have a chance to see The Sound of Music, it would make a great Christmas gift for someone in your family. Talk to you tomorrow.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Disconnected
Yet another spokesperson on television was talking last night about the "disconnect" between people, despite all of the high-tech so-called communication devices. Duh. I don't suppose we needed someone to tell us that. The proof is all over the place.
And honestly, I don't see where any of it seems to make people happier! An article the other day said that people on Facebook were actually more unhappy. Nothing beats spending time with real people in real time at a real place.
I guess that's when I have a bit of hankering for the "old days." My sister had dinner with her son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren a couple of weeks ago. The grandchildren were either working on a tablet or checking the phone throughout. While their mother was always a stickler for manners and good behavior, she didn't seem bothered by it whatsoever.
Today's posting is part of what's been on my mind, but there was this great idea that flitted into my head the other night and it was SO GOOD that I wanted to beat a path to the basement and write it on the spot. But I didn't, thinking that it would be so easy to remember. And now I can't. I've tried.
The gist of it was that there was this project that was done, but it just wasn't perfect in any sense. Yet, it was a worthwhile little thing, whatever it was. Some would want it to be perfect and if it couldn't be improved, scrapped. But for some reason, I liked it imperfect as it was. It made me think of us humans, with all of our oddities, and yes, even with our so-called communication devices going through life without a compass. It made me think about how God sees us raw and unrefined and somehow He still loves us.
It made me think that God loved us enough that He would allow his son to come and be among us, be one with us.
Our world at times seems so complex and unexplainable, but on a very deep level, at the very core where the molten lava burns unceasingly, there is something that every human being needs -- love. It's the universal song of our souls.
On my mantle are three special things that are ALWAYS there when I decorate. One is a project that one of the boys made in school. The other two are cards made with seed pods and inside written in small boy printing are those wonderful words that no parent can ever hear often enough -- "I love you."
Bless you as you start your preparations for Christmas. Keep the love alive.
And honestly, I don't see where any of it seems to make people happier! An article the other day said that people on Facebook were actually more unhappy. Nothing beats spending time with real people in real time at a real place.
I guess that's when I have a bit of hankering for the "old days." My sister had dinner with her son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren a couple of weeks ago. The grandchildren were either working on a tablet or checking the phone throughout. While their mother was always a stickler for manners and good behavior, she didn't seem bothered by it whatsoever.
Today's posting is part of what's been on my mind, but there was this great idea that flitted into my head the other night and it was SO GOOD that I wanted to beat a path to the basement and write it on the spot. But I didn't, thinking that it would be so easy to remember. And now I can't. I've tried.
The gist of it was that there was this project that was done, but it just wasn't perfect in any sense. Yet, it was a worthwhile little thing, whatever it was. Some would want it to be perfect and if it couldn't be improved, scrapped. But for some reason, I liked it imperfect as it was. It made me think of us humans, with all of our oddities, and yes, even with our so-called communication devices going through life without a compass. It made me think about how God sees us raw and unrefined and somehow He still loves us.
It made me think that God loved us enough that He would allow his son to come and be among us, be one with us.
Our world at times seems so complex and unexplainable, but on a very deep level, at the very core where the molten lava burns unceasingly, there is something that every human being needs -- love. It's the universal song of our souls.
On my mantle are three special things that are ALWAYS there when I decorate. One is a project that one of the boys made in school. The other two are cards made with seed pods and inside written in small boy printing are those wonderful words that no parent can ever hear often enough -- "I love you."
Bless you as you start your preparations for Christmas. Keep the love alive.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
A Little French Vanilla
Two of my grandchildren think that French Vanilla creamer is the best thing ever. Yesterday, they were both off of school and I was watching them. The conversation started right off with French Vanilla and it kept on going.
Ella and Drew like a small amount of coffee each morning. And what do they like in their coffee? Of course, French Vanilla. Oh, sometimes it's cinnamon and once in a while caramel or some sort of combination, but the old, tried and true French Vanilla always returns.
Ella had some corn for lunch yesterday and she loves corn! However, for some reason it just didn't meet the taste bud specifications and she told me she wanted French Vanilla in it. Oh, you've got to be kidding, I thought, but went along with the request. True to her word she ate every single kernel of corn with gusto. Who am I to be the taste police?
We watched a movie -- Beauty and the Beast. I hadn't seen it in years and it is really very good, especially the music. Can't you just hear "Be Our Guest," right now? Very catchy little tune. Drew watched it too, although he also spent some time watching another movie or two. Their mom said that they were actually very bored from having six days off of school, and I could see some of that.
So while I'm no gourmet, it would seem that French Vanilla adds to the palate and the taste of many fine foods.
I'm switching subjects here, but it will all come together at the end. We watched a show the other night about people who venture to a desserted area of the Bahamas where there are few hotels and no golf courses. They go there to deep sea dive -- the kind of diving where they go on one breath as far as they can and come back up. They swallow air before the dive and somehow the body is able to use that swallowed air. At the very end, the diver has to go through a series of actions that shows they are still coherent. If they can't, the dive isn't credited. One lady was there to dive. She said she does it to "find out what I'm made of." Wow.
That's a little sad. One of the LAST places I would go to find out what I'm made of is the Bahamas to deep sea dive on one breath. I can find out about myself with a couple of kids and some French Vanilla, doing the things that grandmas have done for generations. I don't need the adrenalin highs that come from almost killing myself!!
Our God who made us is the one who helps us know about ourselves, and we have only to ask and he will give us insights. Insights about our patience or lack of it, insights about our attitudes, insights about our shortcomings, and insights about His glory and the heaven that awaits us. The answers we seek about this life and its meaning are close by. So let us pray. "Prepare Ye the way of the Lord."
Ella and Drew like a small amount of coffee each morning. And what do they like in their coffee? Of course, French Vanilla. Oh, sometimes it's cinnamon and once in a while caramel or some sort of combination, but the old, tried and true French Vanilla always returns.
Ella had some corn for lunch yesterday and she loves corn! However, for some reason it just didn't meet the taste bud specifications and she told me she wanted French Vanilla in it. Oh, you've got to be kidding, I thought, but went along with the request. True to her word she ate every single kernel of corn with gusto. Who am I to be the taste police?
We watched a movie -- Beauty and the Beast. I hadn't seen it in years and it is really very good, especially the music. Can't you just hear "Be Our Guest," right now? Very catchy little tune. Drew watched it too, although he also spent some time watching another movie or two. Their mom said that they were actually very bored from having six days off of school, and I could see some of that.
So while I'm no gourmet, it would seem that French Vanilla adds to the palate and the taste of many fine foods.
I'm switching subjects here, but it will all come together at the end. We watched a show the other night about people who venture to a desserted area of the Bahamas where there are few hotels and no golf courses. They go there to deep sea dive -- the kind of diving where they go on one breath as far as they can and come back up. They swallow air before the dive and somehow the body is able to use that swallowed air. At the very end, the diver has to go through a series of actions that shows they are still coherent. If they can't, the dive isn't credited. One lady was there to dive. She said she does it to "find out what I'm made of." Wow.
That's a little sad. One of the LAST places I would go to find out what I'm made of is the Bahamas to deep sea dive on one breath. I can find out about myself with a couple of kids and some French Vanilla, doing the things that grandmas have done for generations. I don't need the adrenalin highs that come from almost killing myself!!
Our God who made us is the one who helps us know about ourselves, and we have only to ask and he will give us insights. Insights about our patience or lack of it, insights about our attitudes, insights about our shortcomings, and insights about His glory and the heaven that awaits us. The answers we seek about this life and its meaning are close by. So let us pray. "Prepare Ye the way of the Lord."
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Advent Thoughts
When I was a little kid, my aunt always used to buy us one of those neat Advent calendars that has the windows that open. For each day of Advent, we'd get to flip the window and see what the surprise was inside. It might be a candy cane, or it might be something with more religious significance.
The biggest window was for Christmas Day and that window held a picture of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus. The reason for the season. The most important birth in the history of mankind. The long awaited Messiah that the Jewish people had heard about through the prophets.
Keeping Christ in Christmas is getting more difficult. The title of this blog is, "Life in a Small Town." In Canal Fulton at the heart of the downtown is an old bank building that was built at the turn of the century. Right in front the Lions Club puts the manger scene for all to see and enjoy. It's there now, although Joseph wasn't lighting up at first and he needed some repair. Thank God for the freedom to have the manger scene.
In my grandson's school, they recently had a "Harvest Meal" for all of the kindergarteners. His contribution was some corn chips. They couldn't call it Thanksgiving. No kidding. There isn't any mention of Halloween either. It's all gone, so that no one can complain. Presumably, that means that there is no mention of Christmas either. It's the new PC (politically correct) and it's not a good thing. Thanksgiving was started by one of the very presidents that the children learn about and celebrate on Presidents' Day -- Abraham Lincoln. At least he was the one who made it formal. And now, we're afraid to offend someone if we mention Thanksgiving. Even if I wasn't a Christian, I'd be thankful for SOMETHING, wouldn't I? It almost makes my head spin.
The giving tree is now displayed in SS Philip & James, holding more tags than I've ever seen before. Parishioners take a tag, sign the log, and then return the present and tag by December 11th. In this way we can help many local families who are struggling this year. After the tree is put away, the creche scene is displayed in that same area of the church.
Since I started this blog last January, I'm pretty sure we've never talked about the magi and how we used to work them into our Christmas when the boys were little. There was the long hall going to the bedrooms. The magi started their journey to Bethlehem at the end of that hall and each day the boys would move them a bit closer to their destination. They would get to the hutch right around Christmas Eve, and then I'd bring out the baby Jesus that was hidden until then. And the baby was in his rightful place in his lowly manger.
It's a great way for children to stay in the spirit of the holiday, and not to get all caught up in the trappings of Christmas to the exclusion of our Lord, Jesus.
I'm down the basement writing this posting again, and thank God that it works down here!! For this I am grateful, and for so many, many other wonders including my precious grandchildren. Take care, my friends.
The biggest window was for Christmas Day and that window held a picture of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus. The reason for the season. The most important birth in the history of mankind. The long awaited Messiah that the Jewish people had heard about through the prophets.
Keeping Christ in Christmas is getting more difficult. The title of this blog is, "Life in a Small Town." In Canal Fulton at the heart of the downtown is an old bank building that was built at the turn of the century. Right in front the Lions Club puts the manger scene for all to see and enjoy. It's there now, although Joseph wasn't lighting up at first and he needed some repair. Thank God for the freedom to have the manger scene.
In my grandson's school, they recently had a "Harvest Meal" for all of the kindergarteners. His contribution was some corn chips. They couldn't call it Thanksgiving. No kidding. There isn't any mention of Halloween either. It's all gone, so that no one can complain. Presumably, that means that there is no mention of Christmas either. It's the new PC (politically correct) and it's not a good thing. Thanksgiving was started by one of the very presidents that the children learn about and celebrate on Presidents' Day -- Abraham Lincoln. At least he was the one who made it formal. And now, we're afraid to offend someone if we mention Thanksgiving. Even if I wasn't a Christian, I'd be thankful for SOMETHING, wouldn't I? It almost makes my head spin.
The giving tree is now displayed in SS Philip & James, holding more tags than I've ever seen before. Parishioners take a tag, sign the log, and then return the present and tag by December 11th. In this way we can help many local families who are struggling this year. After the tree is put away, the creche scene is displayed in that same area of the church.
Since I started this blog last January, I'm pretty sure we've never talked about the magi and how we used to work them into our Christmas when the boys were little. There was the long hall going to the bedrooms. The magi started their journey to Bethlehem at the end of that hall and each day the boys would move them a bit closer to their destination. They would get to the hutch right around Christmas Eve, and then I'd bring out the baby Jesus that was hidden until then. And the baby was in his rightful place in his lowly manger.
It's a great way for children to stay in the spirit of the holiday, and not to get all caught up in the trappings of Christmas to the exclusion of our Lord, Jesus.
I'm down the basement writing this posting again, and thank God that it works down here!! For this I am grateful, and for so many, many other wonders including my precious grandchildren. Take care, my friends.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Sorry about today
I'm sorry about how late this post is today. Believe me, I have been trying!! I got that same error message again and haven't even begun to figure out what is going on. So I ended up coming down the basement to watch the OSU game and we have an older computer down here. The blog came up and the button for posting came up, so here I am.
Just as a little note -- in case something would ever happen and you would access the blog on a given day -- know that something is WRONG. Keep trying. At that point, it would be very helpful if you would send me your email address to knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to let you know what has happened.
At this point, the cursor won't go anywhere but here, so I'm beginning again a few lines down. Oh brother!
Now a whole section just disappeared! This has not been a fun day so far. At any rate, let me rephrase what I tried to say up above. If you access the blog and there is no new posting, it means that I've got technical difficulties that I can't surmount. Like upstairs.
So hang in there with me and take a few moments to send me your email at knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to notify you as to what is going on and when the posts might resume.
Thanks so much. I'm absolutely tapped out from trying to get this thing working and also from preparing the Thanksgiving meal yesterday, etc., so hope you'll excuse me from writing any more today.
Thanks be to God for all of his goodness, for his patience with an impatient people, for the bounty we receive, and for our loving families and friends!
See you (I hope) on Tuesday.
Take care.
Just as a little note -- in case something would ever happen and you would access the blog on a given day -- know that something is WRONG. Keep trying. At that point, it would be very helpful if you would send me your email address to knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to let you know what has happened.
At this point, the cursor won't go anywhere but here, so I'm beginning again a few lines down. Oh brother!
Now a whole section just disappeared! This has not been a fun day so far. At any rate, let me rephrase what I tried to say up above. If you access the blog and there is no new posting, it means that I've got technical difficulties that I can't surmount. Like upstairs.
So hang in there with me and take a few moments to send me your email at knelsen@uakron.edu and then I'll be able to notify you as to what is going on and when the posts might resume.
Thanks so much. I'm absolutely tapped out from trying to get this thing working and also from preparing the Thanksgiving meal yesterday, etc., so hope you'll excuse me from writing any more today.
Thanks be to God for all of his goodness, for his patience with an impatient people, for the bounty we receive, and for our loving families and friends!
See you (I hope) on Tuesday.
Take care.
Friday, November 29, 2013
It's Black Friday
I hope your Thanksgiving yesterday was wonderful. Full of family, good food, and conversation!! There's always a bit of a nostalgia about the holiday though, because we can't help but remember the family members who are either unable to be with us or those who have passed away.
There are so many memories that Thanksgiving conjures up for us. The food usually tastes the same, but maybe the dressing isn't quite as good as Grandma's was. Or maybe one recipe was traded for another, and you like the new one but sort of miss the old one.
Today is our Thanksgiving with the four grown children and the grandchildren. It's always a bit of chaos but always great fun. Especially to watch the grandchildren relate to one another. There is always a moment, something funny that happens, that absolutely no one could predict. At Halloween, for example, my eldest son misspoke in attempting to get his son's attention (whose name is Drew), and called him, "Greg," which is his younger brother's name. That really created a roar of laughter from everyone.
My grandfather in his later years called people by the wrong name all of the time. That same age-related confusion has plagued a lot of people in our family, and then when I do it, it drives me crazy!! Usually, I catch it as soon as the name comes out of my mouth, but the scariest times are when I don't. We're very Alzheimer and dementia aware these days. So your first thought is, "Am I _____." And then you dismiss it, saying that it was only the one time and it might happen again, but not often.
So as far as today is concerned -- the stuffing is ready for the oven, the turkey is in the dutch oven, the upside down pumpkin cake is baking in the oven, the cheeseball is ready, the jello with cranberries is ready, and the only thing I actually have left to do that requires some labor is peel potatoes. I can manage that.
We're coming around to the first anniversary of this blog. It began at the very beginning of January 2013. I hope that you stay on board, because if you do, I'll keep on writing Tuesday through Saturday without interruption (or at least not many interruptions).
By the way, on a side note, I've attended two of the class reunion committee meetings so far. We had talked a few months ago about somehow rewarding anyone who might show up with their class sweater. They were absolutely the most blah looking things I've ever seen. Mine disappeared YEARS ago. Well, of the 16 of us who gathered at the November meeting, TWO of the 16 still have their sweaters!! Can you even believe that? One classmate looked at them with amazement on her face, and whined, "WHY?"
What did we expect when we chose beige and brown as our class colors?
Be sure to find Martha Stewart's guide to creating a memorable Christmas -- her Advent planning. It's always worth a laugh or two. In her current issue of "Martha Stewart Living," she shows a number of "holiday" trees. They are "holiday" because they sure aren't Christmas. Not one angel, not one crèche scene, not one star, not the magi, nothing. There are alphabet ornaments for her toddler grandchildren. There are menorahs. Just nothing with "Christ" in it. What kind of PC world are we creating here? Why bother calling it Christmas?
Take care.
There are so many memories that Thanksgiving conjures up for us. The food usually tastes the same, but maybe the dressing isn't quite as good as Grandma's was. Or maybe one recipe was traded for another, and you like the new one but sort of miss the old one.
Today is our Thanksgiving with the four grown children and the grandchildren. It's always a bit of chaos but always great fun. Especially to watch the grandchildren relate to one another. There is always a moment, something funny that happens, that absolutely no one could predict. At Halloween, for example, my eldest son misspoke in attempting to get his son's attention (whose name is Drew), and called him, "Greg," which is his younger brother's name. That really created a roar of laughter from everyone.
My grandfather in his later years called people by the wrong name all of the time. That same age-related confusion has plagued a lot of people in our family, and then when I do it, it drives me crazy!! Usually, I catch it as soon as the name comes out of my mouth, but the scariest times are when I don't. We're very Alzheimer and dementia aware these days. So your first thought is, "Am I _____." And then you dismiss it, saying that it was only the one time and it might happen again, but not often.
So as far as today is concerned -- the stuffing is ready for the oven, the turkey is in the dutch oven, the upside down pumpkin cake is baking in the oven, the cheeseball is ready, the jello with cranberries is ready, and the only thing I actually have left to do that requires some labor is peel potatoes. I can manage that.
We're coming around to the first anniversary of this blog. It began at the very beginning of January 2013. I hope that you stay on board, because if you do, I'll keep on writing Tuesday through Saturday without interruption (or at least not many interruptions).
By the way, on a side note, I've attended two of the class reunion committee meetings so far. We had talked a few months ago about somehow rewarding anyone who might show up with their class sweater. They were absolutely the most blah looking things I've ever seen. Mine disappeared YEARS ago. Well, of the 16 of us who gathered at the November meeting, TWO of the 16 still have their sweaters!! Can you even believe that? One classmate looked at them with amazement on her face, and whined, "WHY?"
What did we expect when we chose beige and brown as our class colors?
Be sure to find Martha Stewart's guide to creating a memorable Christmas -- her Advent planning. It's always worth a laugh or two. In her current issue of "Martha Stewart Living," she shows a number of "holiday" trees. They are "holiday" because they sure aren't Christmas. Not one angel, not one crèche scene, not one star, not the magi, nothing. There are alphabet ornaments for her toddler grandchildren. There are menorahs. Just nothing with "Christ" in it. What kind of PC world are we creating here? Why bother calling it Christmas?
Take care.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Cozy Wednesday
The kids are off of school today thanks to the wintery weather we had yesterday. This time the forecasters had it right on the dot -- the serious snow started here at around 3:00 p.m., just like they predicted.
So it's one of those hot chocolate, play with the toys, watch a little TV like Jake and the Pirates and Sophia the First, cuddle in a blanket and relax days. A cozy day for the children and those of us lucky enough not to have to venture out into the cold today.
I do feel bad, however, for those who were trying to reach family members for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of them stranded at the airports right now, trying to find a flight to wherever they are going. Apparently, the weather over most of the U.S. will be fine tomorrow, but the snow came at just the time when so many are heading out. The whole mess underscores the "reason for the season" which is that family and Thanksgiving are uniquely united.
Thanksgiving was observed in the early years of our country, but there was no formal proclamation to that effect until Abraham Lincoln set the last Thursday of the month of November as the official Thanksgiving. In his proclamation, he invoked the name of God many, many times. Thus, although Thanksgiving is a holiday set by the government, its link with our faith is undisputed.
For me Thanksgiving means doing a lot of cooking, cleaning, and preparing. It does NOT mean going to the mall, any store whatsoever, or standing in a line in the frigid cold waiting to get $20 off a TV. For me, the day of Thanksgiving is special, but so is the day after and the weekend after. It's a time to just take some time to relax and appreciate everything in my life, all the gifts, the special people, the blessings. Then on Saturday, it's time to watch the annual battle between Michigan and Ohio State. It's always a good game, rooted in tradition and high on emotion.
At some point when our kids were grown and the dynamics of them trying to go to more than one house made it difficult, we changed things up and it's stayed that way. We have everyone over for the full meal on Friday. That way they can come over and enjoy themselves and not have to rush off somewhere else, and they can come over hungry. It's worked out well and I have no regrets. As my husband observed today, Friday feels like Thanksgiving for us.
As you prepare for the holiday, as you get out each ingredient to prepare the meal, as you fire up the stove, hook up the mixer, pull out the roasting pan, and smell the wonderful aroma of pies, turkey, and dressing, take a moment to thank God for his bounty. The Akron-Canton Food Bank called yesterday and their message is that one in seven is hungry right here in our area. That is definitely something to consider and they are a very worthwhile group to support.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!!
So it's one of those hot chocolate, play with the toys, watch a little TV like Jake and the Pirates and Sophia the First, cuddle in a blanket and relax days. A cozy day for the children and those of us lucky enough not to have to venture out into the cold today.
I do feel bad, however, for those who were trying to reach family members for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of them stranded at the airports right now, trying to find a flight to wherever they are going. Apparently, the weather over most of the U.S. will be fine tomorrow, but the snow came at just the time when so many are heading out. The whole mess underscores the "reason for the season" which is that family and Thanksgiving are uniquely united.
Thanksgiving was observed in the early years of our country, but there was no formal proclamation to that effect until Abraham Lincoln set the last Thursday of the month of November as the official Thanksgiving. In his proclamation, he invoked the name of God many, many times. Thus, although Thanksgiving is a holiday set by the government, its link with our faith is undisputed.
For me Thanksgiving means doing a lot of cooking, cleaning, and preparing. It does NOT mean going to the mall, any store whatsoever, or standing in a line in the frigid cold waiting to get $20 off a TV. For me, the day of Thanksgiving is special, but so is the day after and the weekend after. It's a time to just take some time to relax and appreciate everything in my life, all the gifts, the special people, the blessings. Then on Saturday, it's time to watch the annual battle between Michigan and Ohio State. It's always a good game, rooted in tradition and high on emotion.
At some point when our kids were grown and the dynamics of them trying to go to more than one house made it difficult, we changed things up and it's stayed that way. We have everyone over for the full meal on Friday. That way they can come over and enjoy themselves and not have to rush off somewhere else, and they can come over hungry. It's worked out well and I have no regrets. As my husband observed today, Friday feels like Thanksgiving for us.
As you prepare for the holiday, as you get out each ingredient to prepare the meal, as you fire up the stove, hook up the mixer, pull out the roasting pan, and smell the wonderful aroma of pies, turkey, and dressing, take a moment to thank God for his bounty. The Akron-Canton Food Bank called yesterday and their message is that one in seven is hungry right here in our area. That is definitely something to consider and they are a very worthwhile group to support.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Goofy Computers
I don't know about you, but technology stuff keeps creeping into my life whether I seem to choose it or not.
Back in the day when I was working at The Signal in Canal Fulton as the editor, the powers that be dictated that we start using a computer to send our copy to Lisbon, Ohio, the home base for the paper. So we got computers and went to a half-day of training near West Virginia. By Friday of that week, I was to have saved all of the stories we wrote onto a disk and drive the disk to Lisbon. I made it but my neck was in bad shape.
Somehow from the tension of sitting at the computer and trying to learn everything in the space of a few days, I'd aggravated a nerve in my neck/shoulder area. It was so bad, I couldn't sleep at night. I went across the street to the doctor's office (at that time), and told the doctor, "I have computer neck." He laughed but it turned out that I wasn't going to be the only one by a long shot.
The neck really didn't clear up until I went to work for The University of Akron and they didn't have any. So my neck got a nice, needed rest before computers started showing up there and by that time I was much more comfortable.
Today I note that my email is in a different format from yesterday. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. I got an error message today saying that the browser I've used forever isn't supported. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. Lately, every time I try to write the posting for the day, I get a message saying that I need to log in again. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. So you get the picture.
We are all captives of technology in some way, aren't we? My new "digital" camera is yet another device I had to figure out since it can't really work on it's own without eventually hooking to the computer via cable in order to dump the contents. My GPS unit is the same. The printer is also hooked to the computer, because we tried going wireless and being that we live down in a hole, the reception just wasn't adequate.
Remember back in the day when you turned on the computer and it was trying to connect? That horrible nails on the chalkboard sound that went on, and when it went on too long, you knew that your goose was cooked.
I don't have a smart phone. Mine is quite smart enough and it makes calls out which is all I care about. I don't have a laptop. I don't have a tablet. I don't have an I-pod or any sort of music apparatus along those lines. And guess what? I don't care. So there technology!! Go find another sucker out there!!!
Well, have a nice day now. Sorry to be so late in this posting. I went to the store right away this morning so I'd be able to drive the car down the hill with the groceries. That worked out okay, but it's really coming down now and it's sticking from what I can tell. So I'm parked up top of the hill!!
Take care and be careful, friends. I'll write again tomorrow, but perhaps we'll just take a break on Thursday so we can all enjoy our family, friends, and faith!!!
Back in the day when I was working at The Signal in Canal Fulton as the editor, the powers that be dictated that we start using a computer to send our copy to Lisbon, Ohio, the home base for the paper. So we got computers and went to a half-day of training near West Virginia. By Friday of that week, I was to have saved all of the stories we wrote onto a disk and drive the disk to Lisbon. I made it but my neck was in bad shape.
Somehow from the tension of sitting at the computer and trying to learn everything in the space of a few days, I'd aggravated a nerve in my neck/shoulder area. It was so bad, I couldn't sleep at night. I went across the street to the doctor's office (at that time), and told the doctor, "I have computer neck." He laughed but it turned out that I wasn't going to be the only one by a long shot.
The neck really didn't clear up until I went to work for The University of Akron and they didn't have any. So my neck got a nice, needed rest before computers started showing up there and by that time I was much more comfortable.
Today I note that my email is in a different format from yesterday. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. I got an error message today saying that the browser I've used forever isn't supported. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. Lately, every time I try to write the posting for the day, I get a message saying that I need to log in again. Why? I haven't the foggiest idea. So you get the picture.
We are all captives of technology in some way, aren't we? My new "digital" camera is yet another device I had to figure out since it can't really work on it's own without eventually hooking to the computer via cable in order to dump the contents. My GPS unit is the same. The printer is also hooked to the computer, because we tried going wireless and being that we live down in a hole, the reception just wasn't adequate.
Remember back in the day when you turned on the computer and it was trying to connect? That horrible nails on the chalkboard sound that went on, and when it went on too long, you knew that your goose was cooked.
I don't have a smart phone. Mine is quite smart enough and it makes calls out which is all I care about. I don't have a laptop. I don't have a tablet. I don't have an I-pod or any sort of music apparatus along those lines. And guess what? I don't care. So there technology!! Go find another sucker out there!!!
Well, have a nice day now. Sorry to be so late in this posting. I went to the store right away this morning so I'd be able to drive the car down the hill with the groceries. That worked out okay, but it's really coming down now and it's sticking from what I can tell. So I'm parked up top of the hill!!
Take care and be careful, friends. I'll write again tomorrow, but perhaps we'll just take a break on Thursday so we can all enjoy our family, friends, and faith!!!
Saturday, November 23, 2013
The Cost -- $12.78
Yesterday we observed the 50th anniversary of President John F. Kennedy's assassination in Dallas, Texas. The culprit from all evidence is one Lee Harvey Oswald, a naïve and skewed individual who held strong Marxist beliefs. Oswald purchased through a mail order catalog a rifle that had been used in WWII. It was an Italian Carcano and included a scope. Oswald was a trained marksman from his days in the Marine Corps, and was familiar with the gun which he had also taken to target practice and was observed doing so by a father and son.
The cost of the gun -- $12.78. That same $12.78 is worth $96.49 today. Money his wife and children surely could have used while staying with a kind woman who reached out to a Russian woman and her children. Money Oswald earned at the Texas Book Depository filling orders, and the building he used as a sniper's post in order to kill the president.
The cost to John F. Kennedy's family -- two children were fatherless, a wife was left a widow, a mother left without yet another son, brothers left without an elder brother. Sisters left without their brother.
The cost to our country -- this is just me talking here but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and in all honesty, nothing has been right since. I've been going along more or less pretending that we could have that optimism again, that someone would inspire that kind of hope and belief in something bigger than ourselves, that service to our country was noble and worthwhile. There have been a few little flickers but it's never been the same. I was starting to get hopeful again as a senior in college when Robert Kennedy was running. He was definitely different than his older brother but his message resonated with me. He was a unifier. And then one morning in June 1968, when the clock radio went off in our room at 707 Beall Hall, something was clearly wrong. They were talking in the past tense about someone very famous, and slowly I began to realize that it had happened again. This time, it was a hand gun and the perpetrator was one skewed individual who from his writings would appear brainwashed.
The cost to the world -- John Kennedy was probably the greatest goodwill ambassador we've ever had. His trip to Berlin, for example, drew thousands and thousands. The founding of the Peace Corps was yet another way for America to help others in faraway places help themselves. At a speech yesterday given by Dallas' mayor, he noted that after the president's death a little girl in Nigeria recited the president's entire inaugural address from memory and her father sobbed. His funeral was a who's who among the leaders of the world, who after finding out that Mrs. Kennedy would walk the funeral route, said they would do the same.
We so need a leader who can bring us together, who can help heal some of the wounds, and who can be that bright light of inspiration that President Kennedy was. There are many people today whose lives took a different course because of what he said when he was inaugurated. The Christian principle of living for something bigger than us -- for giving rather than getting. For working hard for the cause of peace.
Today I'm going to pray that such a leader is out there and that God will help all of us respond to his call.
The cost of the gun -- $12.78. That same $12.78 is worth $96.49 today. Money his wife and children surely could have used while staying with a kind woman who reached out to a Russian woman and her children. Money Oswald earned at the Texas Book Depository filling orders, and the building he used as a sniper's post in order to kill the president.
The cost to John F. Kennedy's family -- two children were fatherless, a wife was left a widow, a mother left without yet another son, brothers left without an elder brother. Sisters left without their brother.
The cost to our country -- this is just me talking here but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and in all honesty, nothing has been right since. I've been going along more or less pretending that we could have that optimism again, that someone would inspire that kind of hope and belief in something bigger than ourselves, that service to our country was noble and worthwhile. There have been a few little flickers but it's never been the same. I was starting to get hopeful again as a senior in college when Robert Kennedy was running. He was definitely different than his older brother but his message resonated with me. He was a unifier. And then one morning in June 1968, when the clock radio went off in our room at 707 Beall Hall, something was clearly wrong. They were talking in the past tense about someone very famous, and slowly I began to realize that it had happened again. This time, it was a hand gun and the perpetrator was one skewed individual who from his writings would appear brainwashed.
The cost to the world -- John Kennedy was probably the greatest goodwill ambassador we've ever had. His trip to Berlin, for example, drew thousands and thousands. The founding of the Peace Corps was yet another way for America to help others in faraway places help themselves. At a speech yesterday given by Dallas' mayor, he noted that after the president's death a little girl in Nigeria recited the president's entire inaugural address from memory and her father sobbed. His funeral was a who's who among the leaders of the world, who after finding out that Mrs. Kennedy would walk the funeral route, said they would do the same.
We so need a leader who can bring us together, who can help heal some of the wounds, and who can be that bright light of inspiration that President Kennedy was. There are many people today whose lives took a different course because of what he said when he was inaugurated. The Christian principle of living for something bigger than us -- for giving rather than getting. For working hard for the cause of peace.
Today I'm going to pray that such a leader is out there and that God will help all of us respond to his call.
Friday, November 22, 2013
A Christmas Candle
The only movie coming out this Christmas that has the true message is "A Christmas Candle." Rick Santorum, candidate for president in the 2012 race, is CEO of the film company that has made the movie. He believes that "A Christmas Candle" will become one of the classics that people want to watch year after year.
The film opens in 400 theaters this week. IF attendance is good, it will open in many more of them. The film is set in the late 1890 at the dawn of electricity in a small town, Gladbury, England. The townsfolk remember a story about a candle and a miracle that occurred many years before. Now, with the advancements of science, the miracle is getting a back seat.
There is a trailer online if you google or bing the title of the film. Then you can decide for yourself if you want to attend. The movie is vying against Hunger Games and the like so it has an uphill battle.
I think maybe I'll convince my husband that we need to go and support this Christian effort. The movie is rated PG for thematic elements, whatever that is, but I doubt very much that there would be anything offensive for a family.
Maybe you'll want to check it out. There are quite a few made-for-TV movies that carry a Christian theme, but not many that make it to the big screen.
Thanks to all of you for reading the blog yesterday. The numbers are up and I appreciate that. I'll keep writing if you keep reading. All the honor and glory of our efforts go to God.
The winter air is coming today so stay warm and cozy. Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
The film opens in 400 theaters this week. IF attendance is good, it will open in many more of them. The film is set in the late 1890 at the dawn of electricity in a small town, Gladbury, England. The townsfolk remember a story about a candle and a miracle that occurred many years before. Now, with the advancements of science, the miracle is getting a back seat.
There is a trailer online if you google or bing the title of the film. Then you can decide for yourself if you want to attend. The movie is vying against Hunger Games and the like so it has an uphill battle.
I think maybe I'll convince my husband that we need to go and support this Christian effort. The movie is rated PG for thematic elements, whatever that is, but I doubt very much that there would be anything offensive for a family.
Maybe you'll want to check it out. There are quite a few made-for-TV movies that carry a Christian theme, but not many that make it to the big screen.
Thanks to all of you for reading the blog yesterday. The numbers are up and I appreciate that. I'll keep writing if you keep reading. All the honor and glory of our efforts go to God.
The winter air is coming today so stay warm and cozy. Talk to you tomorrow, dear readers.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Rainy Thursday
It's getting close to Thanksgiving and that can only mean one thing in my house -- it's time to clean the kitchen cabinets again.
This is a yearly thing for me. The hood over the stove gets cleaned more often because it needs it, and sometimes the more used cabinets get a bit of a go-over, but November is always when I wash down the cabinets. This year it will be a one-step process - cleaning with Murphy's Oil Soap. It's kind to cabinets and it's fast. But rather than getting started (it's 8:38 a.m.), I'm sitting here writing the post for today. Maybe it's because I'm procrastinating? Sure, could be. I'm retired; procrastinating could even become a way of life if I let it!!
When my mother wasn't doing very well because of her high blood pressure, doctors thought her best bet was taking it easy. That was how they looked at it back then in the 1950s, so we hired a cleaning lady to assist my mother in taking care of the house. There were hardwood floors in every bedroom upstairs, carpet in the living room and dining room and linoleum in the kitchen. Lucy, our sweet and wonderful cleaning lady, used Murphy's Oil Soap on the hardwood floors maybe every couple of weeks and did a thorough dusting in between. I could always tell Lucy was at the house by the smell of the soap. It has a very distinctive odor that one cannot forget.
So today will be a trip down memory lane for me, because as soon as I open the Murphy's Oil Soap bottle, I'll be back at 3971 Wooster Road again and Lucy will be at the house doing the floors.
My class reunion is this coming September -- I think I shared that with you a couple of times -- and I'm co-chair of entertainment. We always used a questionnaire to gather information about our classmates but honestly, the questions were boring and didn't delve into the stuff that makes a reunion special. Murphy's Oil Soap is a case in point. Open that bottom -- out pours memories. So one question I'd like us to consider using is, "If you could go back in time to Fairview Park in 1964 and visit one place, where would it be and why?" We'd get some stories, wouldn't we?
Some might say they'd like to go back to their old house. Some might say the high school itself. Some might say Fran's Sweet Shop; others might say the old Fairview Shopping Center. It might be interesting. We go to our reunions because in some sense we try to capture what was.
I'm taking my cue from Murphy's Oil Soap.
Have a wonderful Thursday and enjoy yourself. God is in his heaven; all's right with the world. Say a prayer for our country today!!
This is a yearly thing for me. The hood over the stove gets cleaned more often because it needs it, and sometimes the more used cabinets get a bit of a go-over, but November is always when I wash down the cabinets. This year it will be a one-step process - cleaning with Murphy's Oil Soap. It's kind to cabinets and it's fast. But rather than getting started (it's 8:38 a.m.), I'm sitting here writing the post for today. Maybe it's because I'm procrastinating? Sure, could be. I'm retired; procrastinating could even become a way of life if I let it!!
When my mother wasn't doing very well because of her high blood pressure, doctors thought her best bet was taking it easy. That was how they looked at it back then in the 1950s, so we hired a cleaning lady to assist my mother in taking care of the house. There were hardwood floors in every bedroom upstairs, carpet in the living room and dining room and linoleum in the kitchen. Lucy, our sweet and wonderful cleaning lady, used Murphy's Oil Soap on the hardwood floors maybe every couple of weeks and did a thorough dusting in between. I could always tell Lucy was at the house by the smell of the soap. It has a very distinctive odor that one cannot forget.
So today will be a trip down memory lane for me, because as soon as I open the Murphy's Oil Soap bottle, I'll be back at 3971 Wooster Road again and Lucy will be at the house doing the floors.
My class reunion is this coming September -- I think I shared that with you a couple of times -- and I'm co-chair of entertainment. We always used a questionnaire to gather information about our classmates but honestly, the questions were boring and didn't delve into the stuff that makes a reunion special. Murphy's Oil Soap is a case in point. Open that bottom -- out pours memories. So one question I'd like us to consider using is, "If you could go back in time to Fairview Park in 1964 and visit one place, where would it be and why?" We'd get some stories, wouldn't we?
Some might say they'd like to go back to their old house. Some might say the high school itself. Some might say Fran's Sweet Shop; others might say the old Fairview Shopping Center. It might be interesting. We go to our reunions because in some sense we try to capture what was.
I'm taking my cue from Murphy's Oil Soap.
Have a wonderful Thursday and enjoy yourself. God is in his heaven; all's right with the world. Say a prayer for our country today!!
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
The People We Meet
One of the best places to meet nice women is Joanne Fabrics. They have this aisle where shoppers wait to get checked out, and sometimes it moves a little slow. There hasn't been one time when I haven't met someone kind and funny, and I actually look forward to checking out because of it. The most common question is, "What are you making?" The answers are interesting and varied, and I always learn something.
Yet another article in this month's Liguorian Magazine hit the nail on the head. It spoke about how we have to have instant access to everything, and how we tend not to ask another living human being about much of anything. We just google it and away we go. That includes medical advice and countless other queries that we want to make. There's nothing wrong with using today's technology for assistance -- there are things I've learned by using google or bing that I would have had a hard time finding out any other way. So kudos to these search engines for that.
But there are times when we need to keep ourselves connected to others, times when a phone call would serve just as well as a text message or a tweet. There are times when the sound of a human voice or the company of a real human being is preferable to cold machinery.
We need to take stock of ourselves from time to time, especially to determine for ourselves if we are spending too much time with machines and not enough time with people. If our family members are complaining about it, that would be a clue. If we don't seem to have time to get anything done, that would be a clue. If we are staying up at night later than we should, that would be a clue. If we fly into a panic when a device isn't working, that would be a clue.
Today's technology is supposed to add to our lives, not take away from it. So I include myself in this admonishment -- tune off sometimes and just breathe in some fresh air, take a walk, read a real book, stop at the library, listen to some music, write a letter, make a card, make a phone call. Experience life firsthand. Thank God for His goodness.
P.S. I forgot. Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, there will not be a new posting. I'm going to my class reunion committee meeting tonight and then spending the night at my sister's house in Westlake. Won't be back until around 2:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday. But I'll be back -- ready to go strong -- on Thursday morning. Meanwhile, take care, my friends.
Yet another article in this month's Liguorian Magazine hit the nail on the head. It spoke about how we have to have instant access to everything, and how we tend not to ask another living human being about much of anything. We just google it and away we go. That includes medical advice and countless other queries that we want to make. There's nothing wrong with using today's technology for assistance -- there are things I've learned by using google or bing that I would have had a hard time finding out any other way. So kudos to these search engines for that.
But there are times when we need to keep ourselves connected to others, times when a phone call would serve just as well as a text message or a tweet. There are times when the sound of a human voice or the company of a real human being is preferable to cold machinery.
We need to take stock of ourselves from time to time, especially to determine for ourselves if we are spending too much time with machines and not enough time with people. If our family members are complaining about it, that would be a clue. If we don't seem to have time to get anything done, that would be a clue. If we are staying up at night later than we should, that would be a clue. If we fly into a panic when a device isn't working, that would be a clue.
Today's technology is supposed to add to our lives, not take away from it. So I include myself in this admonishment -- tune off sometimes and just breathe in some fresh air, take a walk, read a real book, stop at the library, listen to some music, write a letter, make a card, make a phone call. Experience life firsthand. Thank God for His goodness.
P.S. I forgot. Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, there will not be a new posting. I'm going to my class reunion committee meeting tonight and then spending the night at my sister's house in Westlake. Won't be back until around 2:00 in the afternoon on Wednesday. But I'll be back -- ready to go strong -- on Thursday morning. Meanwhile, take care, my friends.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
The Kennedy Legacy
The scores of television specials about John F. Kennedy started a week ago. Although 50 years ago I lived through that whole series of events, something always makes me want to watch the next program about his life and his death.
People always say that everyone old enough to understand what was happening knows where they were on November 22, 1963. I was in Mr. Peat's physical science class, in a tiered classroom at the end of a hallway. One classmate asked to go get a drink of water at around 2:30 or something like that. When he returned, he told us that he'd heard that the president had been shot. Of course, my mind was swirling. Shot. Where? How bad is it? Will he live?
Class let out a short while after we got the first snippet of news, and being that it was the last class of the day, I headed down the long hall and turned toward the wing where my locker was. The double doors of the art room were down that hall and just as I approached the art room, the double doors swung open hard and Joan Heffelfinger came out into the hall saying, "The President is dead." She was a polite, serious student who got along with everyone. I didn't doubt what she was saying, but my mind didn't want to hear it.
A different Joan and Barbara took the bus home, like I did. We didn't have school buses in Fairview. We rode the municipal bus that traveled between North Olmsted and downtown Cleveland numerous times a day. The bus stop was at W. 213th and Lorain Road and we didn't use money; we used bus checks. These were minted coins we bought at the school office for use on the bus. Joan, Barbara and I were sober and sad. We just didn't feel like riding the bus that day. It must not have been terribly cold, because we decided to walk home from W. 213th Street to W. 193rd Street. We crossed the street and started on our trek. St. Angela's is at W. 210th and Lorain, so a scant three blocks after we'd started, we decided to go inside the church and pray. We stayed about 15 minutes, I think. Then we started walking again. I don't know what was said, but we did talk on the way home.
When I got home, my sister was waiting for me (I lived with my sister and brother-in-law following the death of my mother when I was 14). She had been home alone and heard the news on the radio. She was just stunned; we all were. And thus, on that late fall afternoon in November 1963, we started on a three-day journey of loss and then a state funeral with dignitaries from all over the world.
No one is perfect; we all know that. We've all sinned and fallen short, but in the last months of his life, John F. Kennedy had changed. He had started reading the Bible. He spent much more time with his family. He and Krushchev were writing back and forth, their letters carried by secret couriers. He was going to bring the small numbers of military personnel home from Vietnam. He had kept us from nuclear war. And he was a very sick man, a man who had had other experiences of serious illness. He was in constant pain.
At the time I didn't imagine it, but these days I see a wonderful reunion with his baby boy, Patrick, who had died just a short time before. For John F. Kennedy was a man who truly loved children.
His life should be for us a call to service. From his days as a Navy officer, to his days in the Senate, and then his 1001 days as president, John Kennedy served his country and he was proud of it.
One of my classmates visited Washington, D.C. with her parents when John Kennedy was in the Senate. They walked into the rotunda of the magnificent Capitol Building and were just aimlessly walking around. A young looking man walked over to them, introduced himself, and asked if they would like a tour. He showed them around the building, pointing to this and that, all the while explaining the importance and the history of the building. They had just met John F. Kennedy, the Senator from Massachusetts who took the time to show a family from Ohio the beauty of Washington. In 1963, his body lay in that very rotunda.
People always say that everyone old enough to understand what was happening knows where they were on November 22, 1963. I was in Mr. Peat's physical science class, in a tiered classroom at the end of a hallway. One classmate asked to go get a drink of water at around 2:30 or something like that. When he returned, he told us that he'd heard that the president had been shot. Of course, my mind was swirling. Shot. Where? How bad is it? Will he live?
Class let out a short while after we got the first snippet of news, and being that it was the last class of the day, I headed down the long hall and turned toward the wing where my locker was. The double doors of the art room were down that hall and just as I approached the art room, the double doors swung open hard and Joan Heffelfinger came out into the hall saying, "The President is dead." She was a polite, serious student who got along with everyone. I didn't doubt what she was saying, but my mind didn't want to hear it.
A different Joan and Barbara took the bus home, like I did. We didn't have school buses in Fairview. We rode the municipal bus that traveled between North Olmsted and downtown Cleveland numerous times a day. The bus stop was at W. 213th and Lorain Road and we didn't use money; we used bus checks. These were minted coins we bought at the school office for use on the bus. Joan, Barbara and I were sober and sad. We just didn't feel like riding the bus that day. It must not have been terribly cold, because we decided to walk home from W. 213th Street to W. 193rd Street. We crossed the street and started on our trek. St. Angela's is at W. 210th and Lorain, so a scant three blocks after we'd started, we decided to go inside the church and pray. We stayed about 15 minutes, I think. Then we started walking again. I don't know what was said, but we did talk on the way home.
When I got home, my sister was waiting for me (I lived with my sister and brother-in-law following the death of my mother when I was 14). She had been home alone and heard the news on the radio. She was just stunned; we all were. And thus, on that late fall afternoon in November 1963, we started on a three-day journey of loss and then a state funeral with dignitaries from all over the world.
No one is perfect; we all know that. We've all sinned and fallen short, but in the last months of his life, John F. Kennedy had changed. He had started reading the Bible. He spent much more time with his family. He and Krushchev were writing back and forth, their letters carried by secret couriers. He was going to bring the small numbers of military personnel home from Vietnam. He had kept us from nuclear war. And he was a very sick man, a man who had had other experiences of serious illness. He was in constant pain.
At the time I didn't imagine it, but these days I see a wonderful reunion with his baby boy, Patrick, who had died just a short time before. For John F. Kennedy was a man who truly loved children.
His life should be for us a call to service. From his days as a Navy officer, to his days in the Senate, and then his 1001 days as president, John Kennedy served his country and he was proud of it.
One of my classmates visited Washington, D.C. with her parents when John Kennedy was in the Senate. They walked into the rotunda of the magnificent Capitol Building and were just aimlessly walking around. A young looking man walked over to them, introduced himself, and asked if they would like a tour. He showed them around the building, pointing to this and that, all the while explaining the importance and the history of the building. They had just met John F. Kennedy, the Senator from Massachusetts who took the time to show a family from Ohio the beauty of Washington. In 1963, his body lay in that very rotunda.
Friday, November 15, 2013
O'Reilly's Book
A couple of weeks ago, my husband returned from BJs Wholesale Club with a present for himself -- a Keurig coffee machine. He knows full well that I like coffee too, but it doesn't really agree with me all that much, so my preference is tea.
Since he treated himself, he admitted to feeling guilty and so he'd bought me the book, "Killing Jesus," by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugart. I finished it yesterday. Would I recommend it to you, my faithful readers? Yes, I would.
O'Reilly/Dugart do a good job of framing the situation that Our Lord finds himself in. They explain the workings of Roman society and the intricacies of how Jews lived and navigated around their own 600+ rules, the temple, and the festivals including Passover. You will find out how laws were broken in order to crucify Jesus at the behest of the Jewish hierarchy.
The title does provide me with an opportunity to explain one important thing -- Jesus was not KILLED. Jesus gave his life for us. The Bible quotes Jesus as saying, "It is finished." Jesus did his father's will by becoming fully human while being fully God and coming to earth. He lived the life of a typical Jewish boy in a small Jewish town. He learned a craft -- carpentry -- alongside his father. Did he know right from the beginning of his life that the ending would be the cross? I don't know; I doubt it. But I do know that no one took his life from him -- he gave it.
The pressure on Jesus was tremendous. He outwitted the most gifted thinkers in Jerusalem with his answers, and many of those answers guide us to this day like, "Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's and render to God that which is God's." He prayed in the garden awaiting the guards he knew were coming for him. Bet you thought they were Roman guards. I did. They weren't; they were Jewish temple guards who came and got him after he received a kiss from Judas, the traitor, as a signal to them that this was the man they were seeking. And while he waited in that garden, he wanted his beloved apostles to pray with him, but instead they fell asleep. Like Peter's three-times denial, they fell asleep three different times. And all that while Jesus is so fearful of what is to happen that he sweats blood. Was he afraid of the physical torment? Of course, I'm sure he was. But there was something much greater that awaited Jesus on that cross. He felt the total weight of all of the sins ever committed by humans. My sins. Your sins.
It is humbling and sad and sorrowful all at the same time. It should be the first thing we think of every single morning -- we were ransomed by the blood of God.
It puts everything into perspective, like for example, how short our lives really are in the big picture -- God's overall plan for humanity. It puts our sufferings into perspective too.
There are a few places in the book where my understanding differs, but I'm no Biblical scholar. I think you would find that the book is worth the read.
Thanks, my dear readers, for joining me on this day.
Since he treated himself, he admitted to feeling guilty and so he'd bought me the book, "Killing Jesus," by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugart. I finished it yesterday. Would I recommend it to you, my faithful readers? Yes, I would.
O'Reilly/Dugart do a good job of framing the situation that Our Lord finds himself in. They explain the workings of Roman society and the intricacies of how Jews lived and navigated around their own 600+ rules, the temple, and the festivals including Passover. You will find out how laws were broken in order to crucify Jesus at the behest of the Jewish hierarchy.
The title does provide me with an opportunity to explain one important thing -- Jesus was not KILLED. Jesus gave his life for us. The Bible quotes Jesus as saying, "It is finished." Jesus did his father's will by becoming fully human while being fully God and coming to earth. He lived the life of a typical Jewish boy in a small Jewish town. He learned a craft -- carpentry -- alongside his father. Did he know right from the beginning of his life that the ending would be the cross? I don't know; I doubt it. But I do know that no one took his life from him -- he gave it.
The pressure on Jesus was tremendous. He outwitted the most gifted thinkers in Jerusalem with his answers, and many of those answers guide us to this day like, "Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's and render to God that which is God's." He prayed in the garden awaiting the guards he knew were coming for him. Bet you thought they were Roman guards. I did. They weren't; they were Jewish temple guards who came and got him after he received a kiss from Judas, the traitor, as a signal to them that this was the man they were seeking. And while he waited in that garden, he wanted his beloved apostles to pray with him, but instead they fell asleep. Like Peter's three-times denial, they fell asleep three different times. And all that while Jesus is so fearful of what is to happen that he sweats blood. Was he afraid of the physical torment? Of course, I'm sure he was. But there was something much greater that awaited Jesus on that cross. He felt the total weight of all of the sins ever committed by humans. My sins. Your sins.
It is humbling and sad and sorrowful all at the same time. It should be the first thing we think of every single morning -- we were ransomed by the blood of God.
It puts everything into perspective, like for example, how short our lives really are in the big picture -- God's overall plan for humanity. It puts our sufferings into perspective too.
There are a few places in the book where my understanding differs, but I'm no Biblical scholar. I think you would find that the book is worth the read.
Thanks, my dear readers, for joining me on this day.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
The Martha Stewart In Me
Necessity is the mother of invention. I agree with Plato on this one. Unless we are forced by some exigent circumstances, we go along our merry little ways unchallenged.
Back in the 1980s and 1990s when my sons were getting old enough to get themselves into real trouble, I was stressed. During the day I coped with it pretty well, but it was at night that apparently all of my fears and worries for them came to a head. I clenched my teeth. Pretty soon, I was getting some jaw pain and headaches, and my jaw was making noises.
I consulted my dentist and he could tell that I'd been clenching my teeth at night. This differs from the grinding that some people do. I don't grind which is much worse, but the clenching doesn't do a body any favors either. So he sent me to a specialist who made me a bite guard. And that bite guard worked for a long, long time until recently it started to fall apart. Knowing full well that the device cost $400, I did a little investigation to find out what a new one would cost and my best estimate is around $800. Wow.
So I thought -- maybe I don't even clench my teeth at night anymore. Maybe I don't need a new bite guard at all. That lasted one night and by the next morning I knew I was still doing this ridiculous thing -- had this ridiculous habit.
Martha Stewart immediately came to mind. Martha doesn't really have to worry about spending $800 on a bite guard, but this is a woman who in one issue of her magazine demonstrated how to DYE old tennis shoes. Really? And the dye she used was blue. If I ever did such a thing, I know exactly what would happen. For at least the rest of the summer, I'd have Smurf blue feet, and can you imagine how svelte I'd really look in sandals?
But you have to give Martha credit. She does seem to work hard. That gave me a little verve -- which might be a combination of vitality and nerve? Don't know. Sounds good, doesn't it?
I had a bite guard that I bought on a whim at the pharmacy when I was going to try and replace the other one a while back. It was like sports shoe cushioning and thick and bulky. It made me gag. But being kind of cheap, I'd kept the thing. It was one of those boil-it-and-it-will-fit kind of deals. I took the monstrosity out to the kitchen where I could really get a good look at it. Got out some scissors and a serrated kitchen knife and started to do a little clipping here and there. Cut off the sides that fit into the back molars to avoid the gagging. And I trimmed the part that fits over the front teeth. Ouila! A new bite guard.
It's been several days now and the bite guard is hanging in there. I don't have headaches. My jaw isn't sore and I'm not out any money. When this one starts falling apart, I'll just buy another cheap one and go to work in my bite guard laboratory and create another one. Perhaps by then I'll be even better at it and maybe I'll even get out my electric Dremel Multi-Pro (drill, sander, crafter).
Martha -- and you thought that dying tennis shoes was bold!! However, I noticed that on the humorous list that someone compiled about how Martha prepares for Christmas, I see that on December 13 she collects dentures which it says, makes excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts. Hmmmm. And that's the day after, "Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble." The day after she, "Installs plumbing in the gingerbread house." But my personal favorite -- December 11 -- Lay Faberge egg.
May the light of the Lord shine upon you. Thanks for reading.
Back in the 1980s and 1990s when my sons were getting old enough to get themselves into real trouble, I was stressed. During the day I coped with it pretty well, but it was at night that apparently all of my fears and worries for them came to a head. I clenched my teeth. Pretty soon, I was getting some jaw pain and headaches, and my jaw was making noises.
I consulted my dentist and he could tell that I'd been clenching my teeth at night. This differs from the grinding that some people do. I don't grind which is much worse, but the clenching doesn't do a body any favors either. So he sent me to a specialist who made me a bite guard. And that bite guard worked for a long, long time until recently it started to fall apart. Knowing full well that the device cost $400, I did a little investigation to find out what a new one would cost and my best estimate is around $800. Wow.
So I thought -- maybe I don't even clench my teeth at night anymore. Maybe I don't need a new bite guard at all. That lasted one night and by the next morning I knew I was still doing this ridiculous thing -- had this ridiculous habit.
Martha Stewart immediately came to mind. Martha doesn't really have to worry about spending $800 on a bite guard, but this is a woman who in one issue of her magazine demonstrated how to DYE old tennis shoes. Really? And the dye she used was blue. If I ever did such a thing, I know exactly what would happen. For at least the rest of the summer, I'd have Smurf blue feet, and can you imagine how svelte I'd really look in sandals?
But you have to give Martha credit. She does seem to work hard. That gave me a little verve -- which might be a combination of vitality and nerve? Don't know. Sounds good, doesn't it?
I had a bite guard that I bought on a whim at the pharmacy when I was going to try and replace the other one a while back. It was like sports shoe cushioning and thick and bulky. It made me gag. But being kind of cheap, I'd kept the thing. It was one of those boil-it-and-it-will-fit kind of deals. I took the monstrosity out to the kitchen where I could really get a good look at it. Got out some scissors and a serrated kitchen knife and started to do a little clipping here and there. Cut off the sides that fit into the back molars to avoid the gagging. And I trimmed the part that fits over the front teeth. Ouila! A new bite guard.
It's been several days now and the bite guard is hanging in there. I don't have headaches. My jaw isn't sore and I'm not out any money. When this one starts falling apart, I'll just buy another cheap one and go to work in my bite guard laboratory and create another one. Perhaps by then I'll be even better at it and maybe I'll even get out my electric Dremel Multi-Pro (drill, sander, crafter).
Martha -- and you thought that dying tennis shoes was bold!! However, I noticed that on the humorous list that someone compiled about how Martha prepares for Christmas, I see that on December 13 she collects dentures which it says, makes excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts. Hmmmm. And that's the day after, "Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble." The day after she, "Installs plumbing in the gingerbread house." But my personal favorite -- December 11 -- Lay Faberge egg.
May the light of the Lord shine upon you. Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Our Fragile Times
Life sometimes has a way of forcing us to deal with difficult things. It's like you're going along and everything is fine, you feel strong, you feel competent, and one little thing happens to make you turn into a sniveling scared person.
Years ago, we had a little mouse problem. Okay, it was a mice problem. Eventually, we caught about nine of them as I recall. They were getting into the basement somehow, and we've never figured out how. I was starting to get really upset, feeling creepy-crawly, and like my inner space had been violated. But at least the problem was down in the basement.
One night while sitting at my night stand, probably trying to make my pain-in-the-neck hair do something other than go straight, I just knew that there was something wrong. I turned around just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of movement in front of the closet on the opposite side of the room. There were just two humans in the house, and my husband was watching TV in the living room. I shrieked, stood up, felt trapped because the mouse was between me and the door, and I yelled, "Help. Help. Somebody help me."
The "somebody" finally showed up; he was very nonchalant about the whole thing and I was freaking out. He looked about five feet in one direction and five feet in the other and said that the mouse was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it was nowhere to be seen. I had just traumatized it with my screaming. But my powers of observation were a little better than his and I figured it out -- the mouse had gone into the closet. My husband was tired and he figured we could just deal with it in the morning. In the morning?
So I'm supposed to sleep in my bed knowing that there might be a mouse in the closet just waiting for the opportunity to come out and show itself? No way!! I told him that we could empty out the closet and I would help get the shoes out of the way. So he began handing me shoes. Pretty soon, he says, "Oh, here it is." I thought he'd do something, but he thought he'd just get one of our cats and have them solve the problem. The first cat he grabbed walked right away. The second cat did the same. Finally, he got one that showed an interest. It ran into the closet and cornered the mouse.
Then my husband says, "Ohhhh." And hiding behind the door, I say, "What?" He says calmly, "I think it's dead." And I said, "No, it's not. It's not dead." And he said, "Well, it's lying on its back and it's not moving. I think it had a heart attack." So now I'm a little more calm and he has me get a dustpan. He noticed a puncture mark in the mouse, and we knew then that one of the cats had already struck. The mouse's time was numbered. I almost felt sorry for it -- almost.
So still somewhat edgy the next morning, I headed out to my car to go to work. It was very dark in the garage, so it must have been winter. As I turned the key to start the car, something caught my eye on the dash where the heater vent was. A white moth crawled out, its little feelers going this way and that. I completely went nuts, screamed and hollered, and scared my husband half to death.
He said, "What is wrong with you?"
So he gives this kind of halfhearted attempt to get the moth but it disappears. I didn't want to leave for work, saying, "It's going to show up while I'm driving to work and I'm going to have a wreck."
It ended up being in the very back of the car, where the window meets the body of the car, and it was difficult to get out but he finally did get it.
And I thought about what he said, "What is wrong with you?" Yeah, what was wrong with me? I found out that I was emotionally fragile when it came to mice in the house. Everything felt out of control, and then within the confines of my cozy car, I felt invaded yet again. THAT'S what was wrong with me.
So I've gotten a little wiser -- I know that I have these little issues, and I know that it could happen again. Now that my husband doesn't hear as well, I'll just have to scream much louder!!!
Have a great day!
Years ago, we had a little mouse problem. Okay, it was a mice problem. Eventually, we caught about nine of them as I recall. They were getting into the basement somehow, and we've never figured out how. I was starting to get really upset, feeling creepy-crawly, and like my inner space had been violated. But at least the problem was down in the basement.
One night while sitting at my night stand, probably trying to make my pain-in-the-neck hair do something other than go straight, I just knew that there was something wrong. I turned around just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of movement in front of the closet on the opposite side of the room. There were just two humans in the house, and my husband was watching TV in the living room. I shrieked, stood up, felt trapped because the mouse was between me and the door, and I yelled, "Help. Help. Somebody help me."
The "somebody" finally showed up; he was very nonchalant about the whole thing and I was freaking out. He looked about five feet in one direction and five feet in the other and said that the mouse was nowhere to be seen. Of course, it was nowhere to be seen. I had just traumatized it with my screaming. But my powers of observation were a little better than his and I figured it out -- the mouse had gone into the closet. My husband was tired and he figured we could just deal with it in the morning. In the morning?
So I'm supposed to sleep in my bed knowing that there might be a mouse in the closet just waiting for the opportunity to come out and show itself? No way!! I told him that we could empty out the closet and I would help get the shoes out of the way. So he began handing me shoes. Pretty soon, he says, "Oh, here it is." I thought he'd do something, but he thought he'd just get one of our cats and have them solve the problem. The first cat he grabbed walked right away. The second cat did the same. Finally, he got one that showed an interest. It ran into the closet and cornered the mouse.
Then my husband says, "Ohhhh." And hiding behind the door, I say, "What?" He says calmly, "I think it's dead." And I said, "No, it's not. It's not dead." And he said, "Well, it's lying on its back and it's not moving. I think it had a heart attack." So now I'm a little more calm and he has me get a dustpan. He noticed a puncture mark in the mouse, and we knew then that one of the cats had already struck. The mouse's time was numbered. I almost felt sorry for it -- almost.
So still somewhat edgy the next morning, I headed out to my car to go to work. It was very dark in the garage, so it must have been winter. As I turned the key to start the car, something caught my eye on the dash where the heater vent was. A white moth crawled out, its little feelers going this way and that. I completely went nuts, screamed and hollered, and scared my husband half to death.
He said, "What is wrong with you?"
So he gives this kind of halfhearted attempt to get the moth but it disappears. I didn't want to leave for work, saying, "It's going to show up while I'm driving to work and I'm going to have a wreck."
It ended up being in the very back of the car, where the window meets the body of the car, and it was difficult to get out but he finally did get it.
And I thought about what he said, "What is wrong with you?" Yeah, what was wrong with me? I found out that I was emotionally fragile when it came to mice in the house. Everything felt out of control, and then within the confines of my cozy car, I felt invaded yet again. THAT'S what was wrong with me.
So I've gotten a little wiser -- I know that I have these little issues, and I know that it could happen again. Now that my husband doesn't hear as well, I'll just have to scream much louder!!!
Have a great day!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Tell the Stories
An article I was looking at in the Liguorian Magazine is really worthwhile. It talks about the stories of our families, the wonderful, compelling, sometimes humorous stories that make people real, human.
As the article mentions, tweets just don't make the grade when we want to know more about the lives of the saints or the saints in our families. Those unforgettable characters that brought a special grace to our lives, or influenced us to fight the good fight. Stories require rounding out, details, sights, smells, tastes, hugs.
As I've talked about before, one of the wonderful things about working at The University of Akron for 23 years was being able to take continuing education classes for free -- one per semester. I took a fiction writing class a number of different times over a period of years. One of those times, a lady in the class misunderstood the purpose of the class because she wanted to chronicle the life of her father. She wanted to preserve the stories that wove such a rich tapestry of his view of the world, flaws and all. So she didn't want to write fiction at all -- she wanted to tell his stories for the rest of her family.
At each class, we would read our assignments out loud. Hers drew the loudest laughter and reaction of any of them. I sometimes found myself wiping away tears from my eyes because of her astute telling of the stories of her father. He was a very suspicious, superstitious man, having grown up in the Depression and also coming from another country. Once, he apparently sold a mattress to the neighbor. That in itself is pretty strange. Who buys used mattresses?
Well, at any rate, once the transaction was complete and the neighbor took possession of the mattress, the man had second thoughts. He was one to hide things in the house -- money being one of them. He began to wonder if he had hidden any money in this particular mattress. So he started watching out the window and observing the family at every chance, hoping to notice if they suddenly seemed to be bringing goods home, if their lifestyle had changed. He obsessed about it. And it was hilarious.
At one point, she wondered out loud if her stories were actually making her father look bad, making him into a rather sordid character. None of the class saw it that way. After a while, I was pretty sure I knew her father quite well. He was a man who had been deeply hurt by the Depression.
In another instance, she told the story of a train ride she took with her suspicious father in the old country. He was always thinking the worst of other people. Apparently, at some point during the train ride, there was a delay since a large boulder had fallen on the tracks. She said, "I'm pretty sure my father willed that rock to fall down from the hillside." See what she was getting at? His negativism was a total disruption in his life, and perhaps as much as anything, she didn't want any of her family members to follow that particular lead.
It doesn't matter if you are a fabulous writer or even if you can write a perfect sentence. Write down the stories of your family. Put all of it down on paper, because otherwise all of this great lore will be lost. No one will remember what Great Uncle George did that one Thanksgiving. Or how Grandmother Smith screwed up the Christmas dinner. Or how little Susie loved Jesus so much when she was little that she sacrificed to give her money to the poor. Why do we love The Christmas Story? Because it is a story -- a story about a particular time in a family's life. It is a picture painted in words and brought into the movie, enriched by the narration of the author himself. It evokes feelings.
Write down the stories. Save the memories, especially the ones that pertain to our faith life. My grandmother died in church in Cleveland, Ohio. Wouldn't I love to know more about her and her love of God? There are no stories to fill in the gaps or answer my questions.
Start small. And then keep going.
As the article mentions, tweets just don't make the grade when we want to know more about the lives of the saints or the saints in our families. Those unforgettable characters that brought a special grace to our lives, or influenced us to fight the good fight. Stories require rounding out, details, sights, smells, tastes, hugs.
As I've talked about before, one of the wonderful things about working at The University of Akron for 23 years was being able to take continuing education classes for free -- one per semester. I took a fiction writing class a number of different times over a period of years. One of those times, a lady in the class misunderstood the purpose of the class because she wanted to chronicle the life of her father. She wanted to preserve the stories that wove such a rich tapestry of his view of the world, flaws and all. So she didn't want to write fiction at all -- she wanted to tell his stories for the rest of her family.
At each class, we would read our assignments out loud. Hers drew the loudest laughter and reaction of any of them. I sometimes found myself wiping away tears from my eyes because of her astute telling of the stories of her father. He was a very suspicious, superstitious man, having grown up in the Depression and also coming from another country. Once, he apparently sold a mattress to the neighbor. That in itself is pretty strange. Who buys used mattresses?
Well, at any rate, once the transaction was complete and the neighbor took possession of the mattress, the man had second thoughts. He was one to hide things in the house -- money being one of them. He began to wonder if he had hidden any money in this particular mattress. So he started watching out the window and observing the family at every chance, hoping to notice if they suddenly seemed to be bringing goods home, if their lifestyle had changed. He obsessed about it. And it was hilarious.
At one point, she wondered out loud if her stories were actually making her father look bad, making him into a rather sordid character. None of the class saw it that way. After a while, I was pretty sure I knew her father quite well. He was a man who had been deeply hurt by the Depression.
In another instance, she told the story of a train ride she took with her suspicious father in the old country. He was always thinking the worst of other people. Apparently, at some point during the train ride, there was a delay since a large boulder had fallen on the tracks. She said, "I'm pretty sure my father willed that rock to fall down from the hillside." See what she was getting at? His negativism was a total disruption in his life, and perhaps as much as anything, she didn't want any of her family members to follow that particular lead.
It doesn't matter if you are a fabulous writer or even if you can write a perfect sentence. Write down the stories of your family. Put all of it down on paper, because otherwise all of this great lore will be lost. No one will remember what Great Uncle George did that one Thanksgiving. Or how Grandmother Smith screwed up the Christmas dinner. Or how little Susie loved Jesus so much when she was little that she sacrificed to give her money to the poor. Why do we love The Christmas Story? Because it is a story -- a story about a particular time in a family's life. It is a picture painted in words and brought into the movie, enriched by the narration of the author himself. It evokes feelings.
Write down the stories. Save the memories, especially the ones that pertain to our faith life. My grandmother died in church in Cleveland, Ohio. Wouldn't I love to know more about her and her love of God? There are no stories to fill in the gaps or answer my questions.
Start small. And then keep going.
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