The American Profile magazine comes free with the newspaper, and the issue of 4/27-5/3 contains a story that ought to inspire almost anyone.
A little boy, 9, was born without fingers on one hand. Matthew was self-conscious about the hand and it was holding him back socially at school. His mother knew of the problem, but even with insurance, there was no way that she could afford a prosthetic hand.
A South African carpenter who lost four fingers in a circular saw accident and a theatrical props manager, Ivan Owen, of Bellingham, WA had invented Robohand. Amazingly, with such generosity, they posted the design for their creation on thingiverse.com last year. Matthew's mother found the plans but knew she wouldn't be able to make sense of them.
Enter Mason Wilde, a junior at Louisburg High School, Kansas. He hopes to be an engineer some day and so he took up the challenge. He spent three hours scaling the plans to fit Matthew's hand. Then he used a 3-D printer at the Johnson County Library in Overland Park, Kansas to make the parts. The 20 parts were put together with nylon cord and stainless steel screws. The materials only cost $60.
Matthew's hand allows him to open doors, carry books, and catch a ball!! Kids who see his hand are amazed and tell him up front, "It's cool." And it really is! It is colorful and attractive.
Meanwhile, Mason started a nonprofit in order to raise money for a 3-D printer that can make more prosthetics.
I just saw such a printer mentioned in Martha Stewart Living. The price has come down substantially so Mason has every chance of being able to buy one.
Can you imagine what an essay that he might write for his college entrance will sound like? I would be very impressed by this young man, and his parents should be very proud of him.
We know that there are problems out there with our youth -- drugs and alcohol -- and the tuning out that comes with too much electronics. Too many youth who don't know God.
But Mason defies the impression that some teens convey. He is a special young man, and his new friend, Matthew, is pretty special too.
Stories like this one bring to mind the one thing my mother used to say more often than not, "Well, we'll just have to make do." Her MacGiver-style approach to life meant that we had to stretch our minds to figure out solutions. There's nothing wrong with helping our kids and grandchildren learn the same.
Thanks for reading,
Karen
Light of Christ
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Good Trip
Well, the shopping trip went along quite well. We went first to Kohl's and they had a huge sale on their Easter/spring dresses. Two we found were in spring green and white, and yellow and white. They were lovely for this time of year but also for all summer long. And we found a beautiful hat that looked just perfect with the dresses.
Lauren was on top of the world. So when she got home, she put on one of the dresses and went outside in the driveway -- and DANCED. She was just like a flower, moving all over the driveway oblivious to the fact that two pairs of eyes were watching. My husband got a real kick out of it too.
On Sunday she got to wear one of the dresses to church and that pleased her to no end as well.
It was a nice weekend, because on Sunday we took a spur-of-the-moment walk on our property, winding all the way down to the dry creek bed and then back to the house through the briars. They are really getting bad. No one has been through there in a while and so there was no natural pathway to take. We kept getting snagged by the briar branches as we slowly moved along.
But it felt good to her and it felt good to me. I need to get exercising again! It's past time for this to start. My goal was to go back to Curves in January, but the weather put a big damper on it. And then my hip started bothering me a little bit. And that was followed by my knee. Both are fine now, and it sounds like a bunch of excuses, but honestly, they aren't really poor excuses at all.
Today I could just take a nap. It's raining outside, it's dreary, and it's cozy in the house -- the perfect recipe for wasting a fine day by doing nothing. And it would seem as though on some level I am powerless to do anything about it.
The weekend's main event included the canonization of Pope Saint John XXIII, and Pope Saint John Paul II. When you think about it, these two men really changed the face of the church, although Pope John XXIII didn't have as much push-back from the faithful, and some of the societal problems that have come along to enter into the dialogue of our faith weren't even issues then. Still, the message was clear that we had to change, and from John Paul II that we need to love one another. He was an emissary of that love, especially to young people.
The people from St. Stanislaus Church in Cleveland were very proud because Pope John Paul II had been to their church and had said Mass. Many of them remembered it. They are Polish and he was Polish.
John XXIII shook up things in the church. I have a book that we used at Mass back in the 1960s. It contains the Latin and the English words of Mass. It was John who brought the vernacular into the church through Vatican II. The amazing thing about his papacy is that he was Italian, older, and no one expected that he would do anything of great merit. He shocked nearly everyone but doing a great deal in his rather short tenure.
In the case of John Paul II, Pope Francis waived the second miracle requirement for his canonization. So there were a lot of firsts this past weekend.
One man at St. Stanislaus said that the saints should be like our rock stars, and he is so right. We should know more about these holy men and women who in some cases lived and died not that long ago. We should be inspired by them, to the point where we are ready to make choices in our lives that perhaps no one else saw coming.
And always, always, always -- there is love.
Thanks for reading.
Karen
Lauren was on top of the world. So when she got home, she put on one of the dresses and went outside in the driveway -- and DANCED. She was just like a flower, moving all over the driveway oblivious to the fact that two pairs of eyes were watching. My husband got a real kick out of it too.
On Sunday she got to wear one of the dresses to church and that pleased her to no end as well.
It was a nice weekend, because on Sunday we took a spur-of-the-moment walk on our property, winding all the way down to the dry creek bed and then back to the house through the briars. They are really getting bad. No one has been through there in a while and so there was no natural pathway to take. We kept getting snagged by the briar branches as we slowly moved along.
But it felt good to her and it felt good to me. I need to get exercising again! It's past time for this to start. My goal was to go back to Curves in January, but the weather put a big damper on it. And then my hip started bothering me a little bit. And that was followed by my knee. Both are fine now, and it sounds like a bunch of excuses, but honestly, they aren't really poor excuses at all.
Today I could just take a nap. It's raining outside, it's dreary, and it's cozy in the house -- the perfect recipe for wasting a fine day by doing nothing. And it would seem as though on some level I am powerless to do anything about it.
The weekend's main event included the canonization of Pope Saint John XXIII, and Pope Saint John Paul II. When you think about it, these two men really changed the face of the church, although Pope John XXIII didn't have as much push-back from the faithful, and some of the societal problems that have come along to enter into the dialogue of our faith weren't even issues then. Still, the message was clear that we had to change, and from John Paul II that we need to love one another. He was an emissary of that love, especially to young people.
The people from St. Stanislaus Church in Cleveland were very proud because Pope John Paul II had been to their church and had said Mass. Many of them remembered it. They are Polish and he was Polish.
John XXIII shook up things in the church. I have a book that we used at Mass back in the 1960s. It contains the Latin and the English words of Mass. It was John who brought the vernacular into the church through Vatican II. The amazing thing about his papacy is that he was Italian, older, and no one expected that he would do anything of great merit. He shocked nearly everyone but doing a great deal in his rather short tenure.
In the case of John Paul II, Pope Francis waived the second miracle requirement for his canonization. So there were a lot of firsts this past weekend.
One man at St. Stanislaus said that the saints should be like our rock stars, and he is so right. We should know more about these holy men and women who in some cases lived and died not that long ago. We should be inspired by them, to the point where we are ready to make choices in our lives that perhaps no one else saw coming.
And always, always, always -- there is love.
Thanks for reading.
Karen
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Saturday Shopping
Today we are going shopping for my granddaughter's summer dresses. It's her birthday present that we put off a little in order to wait for the stores to stock the summer stuff.
We'll head to Kohl's first and then see what happens.
When I was a kid, there wasn't a lot of shopping around. The closest shopping area was Kamm's Corners located at Rocky River Drive and Lorain Road. There was a good shoe store, a men's clothing store for suits and dressy stuff, another store that carried kids' clothing, and a toy store that had just about everything. There was a Fanny Farmer store, a grocery store and a bakery. And the bank.
My mom would leave us in the car for a few minutes to deposit money or whatever she had to do. She'd bring along her little passbook and of course, her change purse that she carried everywhere. And we'd be in the parking lot so I'd look at the bank building and try to figure out why the bank had such a strange name -- Cleveland Crust. It just didn't make sense to me.
It was YEARS later that I realized that the stylized print they used for the sign made the "T" look like a "C." Isn't that a riot?
When we did go into the bank, they had those velvet barrier things on posts, and they had this huge island in the middle of the marble floor where you got all of your little deposit and withdrawal papers and made out your slips. And the pens on the chains that fit into sunken wells. The smell was also distinctive, dignified and moneyed.
Shoes made that clip-clip-clip sound on the marble.
When we were in about the sixth grade, they opened up Westgate Mall. It was an open air mall and we really enjoyed going there to see everything. And we also could ride the bus to downtown Cleveland for shopping.
It was really kind of neat.
Well, Kohl's isn't sounding all that exciting, but Lauren will enjoy herself. She always does.
Take care, and good shopping!!
See you on Tuesday then.
Karen
We'll head to Kohl's first and then see what happens.
When I was a kid, there wasn't a lot of shopping around. The closest shopping area was Kamm's Corners located at Rocky River Drive and Lorain Road. There was a good shoe store, a men's clothing store for suits and dressy stuff, another store that carried kids' clothing, and a toy store that had just about everything. There was a Fanny Farmer store, a grocery store and a bakery. And the bank.
My mom would leave us in the car for a few minutes to deposit money or whatever she had to do. She'd bring along her little passbook and of course, her change purse that she carried everywhere. And we'd be in the parking lot so I'd look at the bank building and try to figure out why the bank had such a strange name -- Cleveland Crust. It just didn't make sense to me.
It was YEARS later that I realized that the stylized print they used for the sign made the "T" look like a "C." Isn't that a riot?
When we did go into the bank, they had those velvet barrier things on posts, and they had this huge island in the middle of the marble floor where you got all of your little deposit and withdrawal papers and made out your slips. And the pens on the chains that fit into sunken wells. The smell was also distinctive, dignified and moneyed.
Shoes made that clip-clip-clip sound on the marble.
When we were in about the sixth grade, they opened up Westgate Mall. It was an open air mall and we really enjoyed going there to see everything. And we also could ride the bus to downtown Cleveland for shopping.
It was really kind of neat.
Well, Kohl's isn't sounding all that exciting, but Lauren will enjoy herself. She always does.
Take care, and good shopping!!
See you on Tuesday then.
Karen
Friday, April 25, 2014
Boomers Struggling in CA
I was out and about for a little while yesterday and had the car radio on. During the news broadcast, they talked about a shocking statistic -- that baby boomers in California are moving back with their parents. The percentage has increased 67% over the past few years.
Why? The job market has meant layoffs for a lot of boomers. And then they have trouble finding another job because of their age which ranges from 50 to 67. Employers tend to shy away from them and I'm not really sure why. They SHOULD be excellent prospects with a good work ethic by this time and they should know something.
Another thing is that the boomers haven't saved enough money. In many cases, they haven't saved one dime towards their retirement.
In a perfect world, having boomers back with their parents could be a good thing. They could keep the yard neat and clean, do housework, cook, run errands, and make home repairs. They could take their parents to the doctor, get their medications, and enjoy spending some time with them maybe playing cards or whatever they enjoy. Maybe in some cases, that happens. But, I'm betting that in some cases, it doesn't work out nearly as well.
I was born in 1946 -- the first year for the boomers. My classmates from high school have gone on in many cases to do really good things. But now as I have some time to reflect, I think maybe we were spoiled. The war had just ended the year before. The guys came home. We won the war!! Innovation and invention was blossoming everywhere. There was construction and work. Rationing was over. And what happened with all of that extra money? Well, sometimes they spent it on us. We got lots more toys than kids just five years before ever did.
Parents starting playing again, having parties, golfing, and all of us saw this fun side of life. And what else? Television. What a difference from listening to the Lone Ranger on radio or the Green Hornet. Now you could watch your favorite cowboy or Howdy Doody, and a bunch of other programming whenever you wanted.
I think we got spoiled, got used to having things, got used to watching rather than doing, liked playing more than working, so much so that it just seemed more important to spend money on the fun things rather than thinking about down the road and retirement. It's just an observation, because I know there are plenty of us who worked very, very hard. And who did a lot more over the years than just "show up."
The thing is -- I realize that some of the best times are when people just get together and TALK. Share. Empathize. Listen with the heart. Maybe some of the boomers are getting a chance to do just that, and rather than rue their poor financial decisions, they can build better relationships.
It's easy to imagine that the boomers in California played too much. The weather there lends itself to playing. The culture does too. Growing up, it seemed like a lot of the fads started in California. Barbie came from California. But as we realize, life is a balance. Too much of anything and there is a payback.
Personally, I like working. At the end of the day, when my muscles are starting to remind me that I did too much, it still feels good. Being productive feels good. We were not made for idleness.
If things pan out like they usually do, then some boomers around here are facing the same thing. And I hope they make the most of the situation and don't get angry and bitter but appreciate and be thankful that they have a place to go.
Take care, everyone. Rain today!!
Karen
Why? The job market has meant layoffs for a lot of boomers. And then they have trouble finding another job because of their age which ranges from 50 to 67. Employers tend to shy away from them and I'm not really sure why. They SHOULD be excellent prospects with a good work ethic by this time and they should know something.
Another thing is that the boomers haven't saved enough money. In many cases, they haven't saved one dime towards their retirement.
In a perfect world, having boomers back with their parents could be a good thing. They could keep the yard neat and clean, do housework, cook, run errands, and make home repairs. They could take their parents to the doctor, get their medications, and enjoy spending some time with them maybe playing cards or whatever they enjoy. Maybe in some cases, that happens. But, I'm betting that in some cases, it doesn't work out nearly as well.
I was born in 1946 -- the first year for the boomers. My classmates from high school have gone on in many cases to do really good things. But now as I have some time to reflect, I think maybe we were spoiled. The war had just ended the year before. The guys came home. We won the war!! Innovation and invention was blossoming everywhere. There was construction and work. Rationing was over. And what happened with all of that extra money? Well, sometimes they spent it on us. We got lots more toys than kids just five years before ever did.
Parents starting playing again, having parties, golfing, and all of us saw this fun side of life. And what else? Television. What a difference from listening to the Lone Ranger on radio or the Green Hornet. Now you could watch your favorite cowboy or Howdy Doody, and a bunch of other programming whenever you wanted.
I think we got spoiled, got used to having things, got used to watching rather than doing, liked playing more than working, so much so that it just seemed more important to spend money on the fun things rather than thinking about down the road and retirement. It's just an observation, because I know there are plenty of us who worked very, very hard. And who did a lot more over the years than just "show up."
The thing is -- I realize that some of the best times are when people just get together and TALK. Share. Empathize. Listen with the heart. Maybe some of the boomers are getting a chance to do just that, and rather than rue their poor financial decisions, they can build better relationships.
It's easy to imagine that the boomers in California played too much. The weather there lends itself to playing. The culture does too. Growing up, it seemed like a lot of the fads started in California. Barbie came from California. But as we realize, life is a balance. Too much of anything and there is a payback.
Personally, I like working. At the end of the day, when my muscles are starting to remind me that I did too much, it still feels good. Being productive feels good. We were not made for idleness.
If things pan out like they usually do, then some boomers around here are facing the same thing. And I hope they make the most of the situation and don't get angry and bitter but appreciate and be thankful that they have a place to go.
Take care, everyone. Rain today!!
Karen
Thursday, April 24, 2014
A Little Girl
When you are 10, things should be looking up. You can read pretty well and you understand the hows and the whys of a lot of things in life. There is so much to look forward to when you are 10. You are more independent when you are 10; you are beginning to have your own thoughts and opinions about lots of things.
But for one little girl, reaching 10 meant an end to it all. In a brief moment when she started seizing, it all began to unravel. She was taken to the hospital and that followed with an MRI or a CT scan of her head. No one was prepared for what they found. She had advanced cancer in her brain and had only days to life. Days.
A week after the diagnosis, Julia was gone, this beautiful child with blond hair and a captivating smile. Her parents are going through an agonizing time in their lives and need all of our prayers to get over the anger and hurt they feel. In one word from one of their friends, they are "devastated."
So today and every day that you can, think about Julia's parents and say a prayer for them, for their healing, for peace, for acceptance, for God's love to wash over them.
The grief that comes from an event like this child's unexpected death is marked by certain certainties. One is that you cannot think properly. You can't sleep well. You cannot go through more than a couple of minutes without the grief hitting you again and again. You can't look anywhere around you without thinking about this child and how much she meant to you. You can't enjoy anything anymore. You can't laugh. You can't find anywhere that is comforting, safe, peaceful. You can't talk about this child without crying uncontrollably but the crying doesn't seem to help. You can't believe that at Christmas time, you were oblivious to everything and had no idea that you could get blindsided like this -- and that this past Christmas would be her last. You wish you'd taken more pictures. You wish you'd told her how much you love her that many times more. You wish it would have been you instead. Life has no more richness, fullness. And I could go on.
So please remember the Norris family in your prayers, because the kind of help that they need is beyond our human capabilities. They need God.
The words from the Bible that bring me solace are Jesus' words. "I will wipe away every tear. See, I make all things new."
Probably because I'm getting older now and I'm about three-quarters of the way down the runway, the promise of heaven gives me the hope and comfort that I need. And yet, it isn't enough for me to feel that when my time comes I might be given that glimpse. I want all of my family there too. I want everyone to know the love of God in their lives, the healing, the joy, the hope, the faith that will sustain us.
So with all of that to ponder, have a good Thursday, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.
But for one little girl, reaching 10 meant an end to it all. In a brief moment when she started seizing, it all began to unravel. She was taken to the hospital and that followed with an MRI or a CT scan of her head. No one was prepared for what they found. She had advanced cancer in her brain and had only days to life. Days.
A week after the diagnosis, Julia was gone, this beautiful child with blond hair and a captivating smile. Her parents are going through an agonizing time in their lives and need all of our prayers to get over the anger and hurt they feel. In one word from one of their friends, they are "devastated."
So today and every day that you can, think about Julia's parents and say a prayer for them, for their healing, for peace, for acceptance, for God's love to wash over them.
The grief that comes from an event like this child's unexpected death is marked by certain certainties. One is that you cannot think properly. You can't sleep well. You cannot go through more than a couple of minutes without the grief hitting you again and again. You can't look anywhere around you without thinking about this child and how much she meant to you. You can't enjoy anything anymore. You can't laugh. You can't find anywhere that is comforting, safe, peaceful. You can't talk about this child without crying uncontrollably but the crying doesn't seem to help. You can't believe that at Christmas time, you were oblivious to everything and had no idea that you could get blindsided like this -- and that this past Christmas would be her last. You wish you'd taken more pictures. You wish you'd told her how much you love her that many times more. You wish it would have been you instead. Life has no more richness, fullness. And I could go on.
So please remember the Norris family in your prayers, because the kind of help that they need is beyond our human capabilities. They need God.
The words from the Bible that bring me solace are Jesus' words. "I will wipe away every tear. See, I make all things new."
Probably because I'm getting older now and I'm about three-quarters of the way down the runway, the promise of heaven gives me the hope and comfort that I need. And yet, it isn't enough for me to feel that when my time comes I might be given that glimpse. I want all of my family there too. I want everyone to know the love of God in their lives, the healing, the joy, the hope, the faith that will sustain us.
So with all of that to ponder, have a good Thursday, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Great Visit
Yesterday was really nice. I got into a little nasty weather on the way to Westlake, but it didn't last too long and then it was pretty much smooth sailing. My sister and I had a nice time talking too, and just enjoying the day.
A couple of my elementary school classmates were at the reunion committee meeting last night and it was really good to see them. One of them asked us, "Did you ever wonder why there was one bathroom stall in the boys' bathroom?" I didn't know having no experience in that particular part of the school. But the other fellow said, "Yes, I did."
And the questioner said, "Because my uncle built it there for me." And then he turned to me and said, "I wore diapers in school. Do you remember that?" Well, I did and said so, but also mentioned that it never bothered me or became an issue so far as I remembered. And I asked him, "Did anyone say anything to you about it?" And he said that no one had ever bothered him about it. To be sure, his particular medical problem didn't last for too many years, and after some surgeries to correct his problem, he was much better.
There are a couple of really neat things about this whole episode.
Wow. And I thought my household was screwed up. It seems as though a lot of us kids were coming to school with more baggage than I ever dreamed possible. And NO ONE talked about it to anyone. We all suffered in silence.
We met at the childhood home of one of our classmates. Her father died about four years ago and her mother passed away just a couple of months ago. She and her two sisters are readying the house for sale, and thought it would be fine for us to meet there, since it's in Fairview, easy to find, and has good cell phone reception (for our calls). One of the guys on the committee mentioned that Susan's father was a plasterer, and a good one it seems. He fashioned crown molding in each of the rooms with plaster, and put cornices in the dining room. The ceilings were perfectly white and smooth, all plaster. He created built-in shelving out of plaster. The exterior of the house is plaster. The kitchen is large and welcoming. The home has huge plate glass windows letting in a lot of light. Susan's nationality is Swedish, I believe, and the use of light blue fit right in, as well as the delft plates on the wall. It was so nice of her to let us use the house and she prepared dinner for us to boot. We all told her that the house would sell very fast!!
So I left at around 8:45 for home, since we had to give Sassy her medicine and made it back a bit after 10:00.
I'll do it again in May, June, July, and August and then we're set for the reunion in September.
Talk to you tomorrow then.
Karen
A couple of my elementary school classmates were at the reunion committee meeting last night and it was really good to see them. One of them asked us, "Did you ever wonder why there was one bathroom stall in the boys' bathroom?" I didn't know having no experience in that particular part of the school. But the other fellow said, "Yes, I did."
And the questioner said, "Because my uncle built it there for me." And then he turned to me and said, "I wore diapers in school. Do you remember that?" Well, I did and said so, but also mentioned that it never bothered me or became an issue so far as I remembered. And I asked him, "Did anyone say anything to you about it?" And he said that no one had ever bothered him about it. To be sure, his particular medical problem didn't last for too many years, and after some surgeries to correct his problem, he was much better.
There are a couple of really neat things about this whole episode.
- We were just little kids and no one talked to us about our friend's situation and yet no one said anything to him, no one questioned him, and no one made fun of him.
- His uncle was allowed to go into the school and erect a bathroom stall. I bet there weren't any formal arrangements other than perhaps the school board OK'd it. I can't imagine such a thing happening today.
Wow. And I thought my household was screwed up. It seems as though a lot of us kids were coming to school with more baggage than I ever dreamed possible. And NO ONE talked about it to anyone. We all suffered in silence.
We met at the childhood home of one of our classmates. Her father died about four years ago and her mother passed away just a couple of months ago. She and her two sisters are readying the house for sale, and thought it would be fine for us to meet there, since it's in Fairview, easy to find, and has good cell phone reception (for our calls). One of the guys on the committee mentioned that Susan's father was a plasterer, and a good one it seems. He fashioned crown molding in each of the rooms with plaster, and put cornices in the dining room. The ceilings were perfectly white and smooth, all plaster. He created built-in shelving out of plaster. The exterior of the house is plaster. The kitchen is large and welcoming. The home has huge plate glass windows letting in a lot of light. Susan's nationality is Swedish, I believe, and the use of light blue fit right in, as well as the delft plates on the wall. It was so nice of her to let us use the house and she prepared dinner for us to boot. We all told her that the house would sell very fast!!
So I left at around 8:45 for home, since we had to give Sassy her medicine and made it back a bit after 10:00.
I'll do it again in May, June, July, and August and then we're set for the reunion in September.
Talk to you tomorrow then.
Karen
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Heading to Cleveland
Today I'm going to Westlake to visit with my sister and then go to my class reunion committee meeting. Tonight we are meeting at the childhood home of one of my classmates so we can make phone calls. If each of us makes maybe 15 or 20 calls, we should be able to cover almost everyone.
Susan's house is just off the beaten path in the life of Fairview Park -- Lorain Avenue or Rt. 10. I've never been there before and it was very kind of her to offer its use. Her father died some years ago and her mother just passed away a few months ago. The home will be going on the market fairly soon, I would imagine. Susan is a very nice person and she also sent us an email saying that she'd made us appetizers and dinner for tonight.
Reconnecting with people you knew in the teenage years is really worthwhile. Honestly, I recommend attending class reunions, if only to have a good conversation with only one person from your class. We all change, some more than others, but there is something very basic, very elementary, that stays just the same. You can look at an aging version of a teenager you knew back in the 1960s and still see that person as plain as day.
For me it is also a affirmation of how God has worked all these years in my life, how He has been there for me, and how He continues to guide my path. And it is also something else -- a chance to really care for and love people that as a teenager I just didn't have the capacity to do.
I'm bringing along some good tasting decaffeinated tea, since I don't imbibe. Some of the others enjoy a nice glass of wine or some beer but tea is my favorite beverage besides good old water.
So today I'm cutting this short so I can get some things organized before leaving.
I hope that each one of you had a wonderful Easter and that in some small way the Lenten quotes were a source of inspiration for you.
I'll be back tomorrow and will share some of the highlights of our meeting. These are funny people and something hilarious always happens.
Bye for now,
Karen
Susan's house is just off the beaten path in the life of Fairview Park -- Lorain Avenue or Rt. 10. I've never been there before and it was very kind of her to offer its use. Her father died some years ago and her mother just passed away a few months ago. The home will be going on the market fairly soon, I would imagine. Susan is a very nice person and she also sent us an email saying that she'd made us appetizers and dinner for tonight.
Reconnecting with people you knew in the teenage years is really worthwhile. Honestly, I recommend attending class reunions, if only to have a good conversation with only one person from your class. We all change, some more than others, but there is something very basic, very elementary, that stays just the same. You can look at an aging version of a teenager you knew back in the 1960s and still see that person as plain as day.
For me it is also a affirmation of how God has worked all these years in my life, how He has been there for me, and how He continues to guide my path. And it is also something else -- a chance to really care for and love people that as a teenager I just didn't have the capacity to do.
I'm bringing along some good tasting decaffeinated tea, since I don't imbibe. Some of the others enjoy a nice glass of wine or some beer but tea is my favorite beverage besides good old water.
So today I'm cutting this short so I can get some things organized before leaving.
I hope that each one of you had a wonderful Easter and that in some small way the Lenten quotes were a source of inspiration for you.
I'll be back tomorrow and will share some of the highlights of our meeting. These are funny people and something hilarious always happens.
Bye for now,
Karen
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Saturday Thoughts
Yesterday being Good Friday, I wanted to devote some time and thought to what the day signifies. In the earlier part of the day in silence with no music or disturbances, I worked on some curtains and then had a piece of peanut butter toast for lunch.
The time from 1:00 to 3:00 is very holy in the life of the church -- the time when Jesus suffered and gave his life on the cross. We had DVR'd "The Passion," Mel Gibson's film about Jesus that begins with the agony in the garden and culminates with his rising from the dead.
We started the film at around 1:30 and watched it straight through, and blessedly, there were NO commercial breaks in this showing. Let me share something with you -- I'm having trouble writing this blog this morning, because the feelings from yesterday are still there for me. And here's the crux of it. We had taped the movie days before and I didn't want to watch it then. I didn't want to watch it yesterday either, and was walking around the house trying to figure out how I could have some quiet time and what I would do with it.
All I could think of was the scene where Jesus is scourged. And my own feelings of unworthiness kept washing over me, my own feelings of regrets in my life, that kind of thing. I didn't want to see it again. And the fact that I didn't want to see it again made me feel even worse. Who was I to push aside the gift that Jesus gave each one of us to spare my own comfort?
Finally, as the movie started, I settled down and just experienced the movie, watched it with new eyes. I'd forgotten about some of the beautiful scenes of Jesus' life as a child, the time he spent with his mother. I'd forgotten about Satan too, his milky white skin and his deceivingly youthful appearance, as he snaked his way here and there during Jesus' trial and suffering.
The only other time we saw the movie, I didn't notice that the blood on Veronica's veil was marked with the face of Jesus. It's only on the screen for a fleeting amount of time, a few seconds, and that's the real genius of this film. It is so subtle, so much like life.
For those of us not educated in the language of Jesus, Aramaic, the film is authentic in that regard too. For someone like me who took Latin in high school, hearing the language spoken by Pontius Pilate and Claudia was also very real.
Simon, of Cyrene, who was forced to carry Jesus' cross, an unwilling participant in the event, evolves as one who defends Jesus and who believes in Jesus at the end. Judas tries to undue what he did, but is depicted as being hounded by demons to a place where the dead carcass of a donkey is lying. The donkey still has a rope around it and Judas uses that rope to hang himself.
So many people in these 12 hours of Jesus' life had decisions to make. And in the history of the world, there would be no decision even to this day more important than to open oneself to our Lord, to ask for the gift of faith.
Even as Claudia travels across the courtyard to bring linens to Mary, she has made a decision about Jesus. Her husband, at first trying to listen to what Claudia told him about Jesus, wavers but then he hardens himself and does the politically expedient thing.
Caiaphas, the high priest, is unrelenting in his persecution of Jesus. He fiercely protects his position of power, and then when the earthquake strikes and damages the temple as Jesus breathes his last, he is shown crying. Does Caiaphas really understand? Does he ever understand? For he had a decision too, and he made it.
Peter's denial was heartbreaking. Here was a man bold in his faith in Jesus who in weakness denies his Lord three times. He made a decision too, but Peter whose name means rock becomes the rock of the church. Today more than 2,000 years ago, he would have been hiding in fear and trepidation. And yet he is fortified and made alive in a new way after Pentecost when tongues of fire rain down on the apostles, when they receive the Holy Spirit.
While there were and are criticisms about the film because of some of the material added, it seems to me that this presentation adds to the viewer's understanding.
And so our today, our final Lenten quote is:
"It is finished." -- Jesus' last words on the cross.
The time from 1:00 to 3:00 is very holy in the life of the church -- the time when Jesus suffered and gave his life on the cross. We had DVR'd "The Passion," Mel Gibson's film about Jesus that begins with the agony in the garden and culminates with his rising from the dead.
We started the film at around 1:30 and watched it straight through, and blessedly, there were NO commercial breaks in this showing. Let me share something with you -- I'm having trouble writing this blog this morning, because the feelings from yesterday are still there for me. And here's the crux of it. We had taped the movie days before and I didn't want to watch it then. I didn't want to watch it yesterday either, and was walking around the house trying to figure out how I could have some quiet time and what I would do with it.
All I could think of was the scene where Jesus is scourged. And my own feelings of unworthiness kept washing over me, my own feelings of regrets in my life, that kind of thing. I didn't want to see it again. And the fact that I didn't want to see it again made me feel even worse. Who was I to push aside the gift that Jesus gave each one of us to spare my own comfort?
Finally, as the movie started, I settled down and just experienced the movie, watched it with new eyes. I'd forgotten about some of the beautiful scenes of Jesus' life as a child, the time he spent with his mother. I'd forgotten about Satan too, his milky white skin and his deceivingly youthful appearance, as he snaked his way here and there during Jesus' trial and suffering.
The only other time we saw the movie, I didn't notice that the blood on Veronica's veil was marked with the face of Jesus. It's only on the screen for a fleeting amount of time, a few seconds, and that's the real genius of this film. It is so subtle, so much like life.
For those of us not educated in the language of Jesus, Aramaic, the film is authentic in that regard too. For someone like me who took Latin in high school, hearing the language spoken by Pontius Pilate and Claudia was also very real.
Simon, of Cyrene, who was forced to carry Jesus' cross, an unwilling participant in the event, evolves as one who defends Jesus and who believes in Jesus at the end. Judas tries to undue what he did, but is depicted as being hounded by demons to a place where the dead carcass of a donkey is lying. The donkey still has a rope around it and Judas uses that rope to hang himself.
So many people in these 12 hours of Jesus' life had decisions to make. And in the history of the world, there would be no decision even to this day more important than to open oneself to our Lord, to ask for the gift of faith.
Even as Claudia travels across the courtyard to bring linens to Mary, she has made a decision about Jesus. Her husband, at first trying to listen to what Claudia told him about Jesus, wavers but then he hardens himself and does the politically expedient thing.
Caiaphas, the high priest, is unrelenting in his persecution of Jesus. He fiercely protects his position of power, and then when the earthquake strikes and damages the temple as Jesus breathes his last, he is shown crying. Does Caiaphas really understand? Does he ever understand? For he had a decision too, and he made it.
Peter's denial was heartbreaking. Here was a man bold in his faith in Jesus who in weakness denies his Lord three times. He made a decision too, but Peter whose name means rock becomes the rock of the church. Today more than 2,000 years ago, he would have been hiding in fear and trepidation. And yet he is fortified and made alive in a new way after Pentecost when tongues of fire rain down on the apostles, when they receive the Holy Spirit.
While there were and are criticisms about the film because of some of the material added, it seems to me that this presentation adds to the viewer's understanding.
And so our today, our final Lenten quote is:
"It is finished." -- Jesus' last words on the cross.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Good Friday 2014
The streets were crowded with people, animals, sounds, smells during the Jewish feast of Passover. People had made their pilgrimage to Jerusalem to take part. Just a few days before, a man had come into the city riding a donkey and crowds of Jewish people had flocked to him and had laid down their cloaks for him to ride on and had waved their palm branches as he passed -- the tribute to a king.
The man, Jesus, had his disciples with him and they were ecstatic. All of the walking, the towns, the cities, the hardships, the sacrifices, the distance between them and their families -- the choice that they had made when they followed him -- had worked out after all. Even though he had told them terrible things that would come and had chastised them for not believing him and for wishing it otherwise.
They were to have their dinner that night in an upper room already reserved for their use. All of the preparations were being made. Two people knew that the evening would not end well -- Jesus and Judas.
And so on Good Friday, the Bible prophecies start to unfold. Jesus is taken into custody by the Jewish authorities, seized by the temple guards after being identified by one of his trusted. Jesus is tried by the Jewish authorities, sent to Pilate who sends him to Herod who questions him and returns him to Pilate for another trial. Pilate's wife has a frightening dream and she begs her husband to have nothing to do with Jesus, a holy man she says. Pilate tries in a feeble way to disassociate himself, wanting to release Jesus, but the Jewish hierarchy is angry with Jesus, jealous of Jesus, and wary of Jesus. They've heard that he can heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and even raise a man already dead four days. He threatens their stronghold on the power they possess in Jerusalem. And so they whip up a frenzy in the crowd and insist that another prisoner be released instead.
Knowing what he was to face later, Jesus had prayed in the garden and was so distraught that he sweated blood.
And thus on Good Friday, as it has come to be known, we remember what Jesus endured for us, the torment, the physical agony, and the spiritual agony when he bore our sins for us.
Christians especially take time between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m. to think about Jesus, to stop what they are doing, and to pray.
The life changing events of Good Friday affect all of those who love Jesus, but have a profound effect on some:
Good Friday is a day when we recognize our sinfulness and we believe as Peter did that we can be forgiven.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
"Everyone around me says they will never doubt God again. I never have. I knew He would do what He thought best. He did, and I will devote my whole life to working for Him in any way He wants to use me." Rhoda Wise, Canton, Ohio (An effort is underway to present Rhoda Wise as a candidate for sainthood.)
The man, Jesus, had his disciples with him and they were ecstatic. All of the walking, the towns, the cities, the hardships, the sacrifices, the distance between them and their families -- the choice that they had made when they followed him -- had worked out after all. Even though he had told them terrible things that would come and had chastised them for not believing him and for wishing it otherwise.
They were to have their dinner that night in an upper room already reserved for their use. All of the preparations were being made. Two people knew that the evening would not end well -- Jesus and Judas.
And so on Good Friday, the Bible prophecies start to unfold. Jesus is taken into custody by the Jewish authorities, seized by the temple guards after being identified by one of his trusted. Jesus is tried by the Jewish authorities, sent to Pilate who sends him to Herod who questions him and returns him to Pilate for another trial. Pilate's wife has a frightening dream and she begs her husband to have nothing to do with Jesus, a holy man she says. Pilate tries in a feeble way to disassociate himself, wanting to release Jesus, but the Jewish hierarchy is angry with Jesus, jealous of Jesus, and wary of Jesus. They've heard that he can heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and even raise a man already dead four days. He threatens their stronghold on the power they possess in Jerusalem. And so they whip up a frenzy in the crowd and insist that another prisoner be released instead.
Knowing what he was to face later, Jesus had prayed in the garden and was so distraught that he sweated blood.
And thus on Good Friday, as it has come to be known, we remember what Jesus endured for us, the torment, the physical agony, and the spiritual agony when he bore our sins for us.
Christians especially take time between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m. to think about Jesus, to stop what they are doing, and to pray.
The life changing events of Good Friday affect all of those who love Jesus, but have a profound effect on some:
- Peter who swears his loyalty to Jesus, only to make Jesus' prediction come true and deny that he knows Jesus three times.
- Judas who accepts money for turning in Jesus, who tries to return the blood money, and who believing himself unforgiveable hangs himself.
- For Matthias who will soon be tapped to take the place of the treasurer, Judas, and become the new 12th apostle.
- For the other apostles who had spoken boldly of Jesus but who find themselves afraid and hiding after his death. In fact, it is the women who venture out to anoint Jesus' body and who end up discovering that the tomb is empty.
- And especially for his mother, Mary, who is entrusted to the care of the apostle John, and who is bereft at the loss of her son.
Good Friday is a day when we recognize our sinfulness and we believe as Peter did that we can be forgiven.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
"Everyone around me says they will never doubt God again. I never have. I knew He would do what He thought best. He did, and I will devote my whole life to working for Him in any way He wants to use me." Rhoda Wise, Canton, Ohio (An effort is underway to present Rhoda Wise as a candidate for sainthood.)
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Passion Mime
Once again the students of SS Philip & James' eighth grade class did themselves proud. After putting on their musical in February, they performed the Passion Mime yesterday at two different times.
Except for the part where the crowd calls for Jesus to be crucified, and the students cried out in loud voices, "Crucify him," the remainder of the play was done with them silent. The music filled the social hall and bounced off the curtains that surrounded the wooden stage.
The boy chosen to portray Jesus had such an innocent face, and he did a great job. Everything was done solemnly, reverently. At the end the students in grades 1-7 filed out of the social hall in total silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
My granddaughter told me that tears were coming down here face during the play and even a little afterwards. On the way home, I was telling her that the play is amazing because it is no work of fiction -- it really happened. There lived a Jesus on this earth and he lived and died for us. It sounds so simple, but we need to remind ourselves of this fact every single day because we get caught up in the world.
The daffodils might have been laid low by the cold snap but spring is coming, just as sure as Jesus arose from the dead. Just as sure as he loves us!
Someone was on TV the other day talking about heaven. He noted that in more than 2,000 years no one has been able to find the grave of Jesus and that is evidence of the afterlife. I think that's interesting, because surely those opposed to him looked for it. But there is something much more obvious. Watch those who love Jesus love others.
The closer to God we get, the more we love others. His followers point the way to heaven by their actions on earth.
Today is Holy Thursday and another special day in the march towards Easter Sunday. Another day to prepare ourselves.
And you just have to enjoy children at this time of year. On the way home, after pondering the beauty of the Passion Mime, my granddaughter and I talked about when we would go shopping for her birthday gifts. (We put it off because the summer clothes weren't really out in full force yet.) I asked her if maybe she needed some shoes. "Oh, I could use a pair of flip-flops, but maybe the Easter bunny will bring them."
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“You never go away from us, yet we have difficulty in returning to You. Come, Lord, stir us up and call us back. Kindle and seize us. Be our fire and our sweetness. Let us love. Let us run.” - St. Augustine
Except for the part where the crowd calls for Jesus to be crucified, and the students cried out in loud voices, "Crucify him," the remainder of the play was done with them silent. The music filled the social hall and bounced off the curtains that surrounded the wooden stage.
The boy chosen to portray Jesus had such an innocent face, and he did a great job. Everything was done solemnly, reverently. At the end the students in grades 1-7 filed out of the social hall in total silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
My granddaughter told me that tears were coming down here face during the play and even a little afterwards. On the way home, I was telling her that the play is amazing because it is no work of fiction -- it really happened. There lived a Jesus on this earth and he lived and died for us. It sounds so simple, but we need to remind ourselves of this fact every single day because we get caught up in the world.
The daffodils might have been laid low by the cold snap but spring is coming, just as sure as Jesus arose from the dead. Just as sure as he loves us!
Someone was on TV the other day talking about heaven. He noted that in more than 2,000 years no one has been able to find the grave of Jesus and that is evidence of the afterlife. I think that's interesting, because surely those opposed to him looked for it. But there is something much more obvious. Watch those who love Jesus love others.
The closer to God we get, the more we love others. His followers point the way to heaven by their actions on earth.
Today is Holy Thursday and another special day in the march towards Easter Sunday. Another day to prepare ourselves.
And you just have to enjoy children at this time of year. On the way home, after pondering the beauty of the Passion Mime, my granddaughter and I talked about when we would go shopping for her birthday gifts. (We put it off because the summer clothes weren't really out in full force yet.) I asked her if maybe she needed some shoes. "Oh, I could use a pair of flip-flops, but maybe the Easter bunny will bring them."
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“You never go away from us, yet we have difficulty in returning to You. Come, Lord, stir us up and call us back. Kindle and seize us. Be our fire and our sweetness. Let us love. Let us run.” - St. Augustine
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The Little Drive
People hardly take a drive anymore. When I was a little kid, it was a common thing, almost a hobby to get out and roll down the windows, feel the wind in your face and drive.
People have more labor-saving devices, but seem to have less leisure time than ever before. It's like some folks are on a treadmill and have no idea how to get off.
We're thinking seriously about putting our house up for sale next spring and purchasing another house with less land but definitely flat land. It's a gut-wrenching decision because we like where we live but it's definitely getting to be too much -- more so for my husband than for me.
It's time to think about making the change before we simply cannot do it. And we don't want our family to be unduly put out by a move either; in other words, we want to be able to haul loads of stuff to the "new" house and set up things if possible. We'd hire a mover to get the big pieces though; that's a given.
So today on our way back from getting some bird seed and some cat litter, we went for a little ride to see what else is out there. I've been doing searches for a couple of years now to survey the real estate world in our area. So we went to a couple of places that we'd preliminarily identified as good potential picking spots.
It went okay. Nothing much was for sale though. We saw a lot of really small ranch homes and ours is around 1620 square feet on the first floor. Honestly, I'd hate to go much smaller than that. I guess it's kind of what my husband said, "It's about the floor plan."
So after driving around for a while, we decided to return home and think about having lunch. As we pulled down our driveway into the familiar sights of home and our lovely wooded lot, it hit both of us at the same time -- it's a difficult and troublesome decision.
My husband sighed and said, "Maybe we could just contract for someone to come and plow the snow." In other words, stay put.
As I'm mulling that over, it might work. We'd need some kind of easier way to navigate getting up the driveway to where we could park a car on the level area above, get someone to plow on a regular basis, and I might be agreeable to it.
There really is no place like home.
Sorry this is late today; I was off in la-la land and forgot.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” - St. Augustine
People have more labor-saving devices, but seem to have less leisure time than ever before. It's like some folks are on a treadmill and have no idea how to get off.
We're thinking seriously about putting our house up for sale next spring and purchasing another house with less land but definitely flat land. It's a gut-wrenching decision because we like where we live but it's definitely getting to be too much -- more so for my husband than for me.
It's time to think about making the change before we simply cannot do it. And we don't want our family to be unduly put out by a move either; in other words, we want to be able to haul loads of stuff to the "new" house and set up things if possible. We'd hire a mover to get the big pieces though; that's a given.
So today on our way back from getting some bird seed and some cat litter, we went for a little ride to see what else is out there. I've been doing searches for a couple of years now to survey the real estate world in our area. So we went to a couple of places that we'd preliminarily identified as good potential picking spots.
It went okay. Nothing much was for sale though. We saw a lot of really small ranch homes and ours is around 1620 square feet on the first floor. Honestly, I'd hate to go much smaller than that. I guess it's kind of what my husband said, "It's about the floor plan."
So after driving around for a while, we decided to return home and think about having lunch. As we pulled down our driveway into the familiar sights of home and our lovely wooded lot, it hit both of us at the same time -- it's a difficult and troublesome decision.
My husband sighed and said, "Maybe we could just contract for someone to come and plow the snow." In other words, stay put.
As I'm mulling that over, it might work. We'd need some kind of easier way to navigate getting up the driveway to where we could park a car on the level area above, get someone to plow on a regular basis, and I might be agreeable to it.
There really is no place like home.
Sorry this is late today; I was off in la-la land and forgot.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” - St. Augustine
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The Address
At a school in Vermont that accepts boys who suffer from a variety of different disabilities, such as ADHD, learning disabilities, and more, they had a goal: To learn the Gettysburg Address by heart. The determination, frustration, sacrifice, and character it took for this group to accomplish the task was tremendous.
A film has been produced about their effort and will be shown TONIGHT on PBS at 9:00 p.m. The title is, "The Address." Get out your tissue box. You'll need it. If you can't tune in tonight, DRV it!!
A guy named Mr. Burns brought the project into fruition because he was so moved by what these boys did. He notes that the story of their work to memorize the address is interwoven with the Civil War and the Battle at Gettysburg itself. So anyone who watches the special will learn information about the Civil War they may never have known.
Burns goes on to say that many Fortune 500 company CEOs suffer from dyslexia, and he believes that their struggle to overcome this disability is the very thing that made their minds work so well. From rerouting their brains to deal with the scrambled letters and numbers that they saw, they did something amazing with their brains. These boys from 11-17 did the same thing!!
The greatest speech EVER, the Gettysburg Address, was the one selected for the 9/11 anniversary event. It should be noted that there are approximately four versions of the speech, and no one knows absolutely for sure which one Abraham Lincoln actually recited. After he gave the address, additional notes and changes/corrections were made.
It was noted by Burns that Thomas Jefferson and some of his peers who brought about the Declaration of Independence upon which the Gettysburg Address is based, kept slaves. The words, "created equal," didn't include the disenfranchised members of society at that time -- slaves, non-property owning men, and women. The Civil War came about to correct that mistake and to rearrange our country's motto -- E Pluribus Unum, (out of many, one) so that there is more Pluribus and less Unum. That last little catchy phrase comes from Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.
The Gettysburg Address was given just four months after the battle ended and marked the date when a section of land would be set aside and dedicated to the fallen. The country had not had the time to really appreciate what had happened and how the country would change because of what happened. But Abraham Lincoln settled upon the words that signify that he did understand, that he had a vision that others did not have.
"That we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The word unalienable is one we don't hear of or use often. It means that these rights cannot be separated, taken away or given away.
Perhaps as Mr. Burns says, we ALL should learn the Gettysburg Address by heart. To that end, there is a site you might want to visit -- learntheaddress.org. There you will see many famous people who share their own recitation of the address.
With God's help, we can all be better people. With inspiration, we can aspire, and then inspire others.
Let me know what you think of the program please.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
When the record of any human life is set down, there are three pairs of eyes who see it in a different light. There is the life as I see it, as others see it, and as God sees it. Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
A film has been produced about their effort and will be shown TONIGHT on PBS at 9:00 p.m. The title is, "The Address." Get out your tissue box. You'll need it. If you can't tune in tonight, DRV it!!
A guy named Mr. Burns brought the project into fruition because he was so moved by what these boys did. He notes that the story of their work to memorize the address is interwoven with the Civil War and the Battle at Gettysburg itself. So anyone who watches the special will learn information about the Civil War they may never have known.
Burns goes on to say that many Fortune 500 company CEOs suffer from dyslexia, and he believes that their struggle to overcome this disability is the very thing that made their minds work so well. From rerouting their brains to deal with the scrambled letters and numbers that they saw, they did something amazing with their brains. These boys from 11-17 did the same thing!!
The greatest speech EVER, the Gettysburg Address, was the one selected for the 9/11 anniversary event. It should be noted that there are approximately four versions of the speech, and no one knows absolutely for sure which one Abraham Lincoln actually recited. After he gave the address, additional notes and changes/corrections were made.
It was noted by Burns that Thomas Jefferson and some of his peers who brought about the Declaration of Independence upon which the Gettysburg Address is based, kept slaves. The words, "created equal," didn't include the disenfranchised members of society at that time -- slaves, non-property owning men, and women. The Civil War came about to correct that mistake and to rearrange our country's motto -- E Pluribus Unum, (out of many, one) so that there is more Pluribus and less Unum. That last little catchy phrase comes from Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.
The Gettysburg Address was given just four months after the battle ended and marked the date when a section of land would be set aside and dedicated to the fallen. The country had not had the time to really appreciate what had happened and how the country would change because of what happened. But Abraham Lincoln settled upon the words that signify that he did understand, that he had a vision that others did not have.
"That we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The word unalienable is one we don't hear of or use often. It means that these rights cannot be separated, taken away or given away.
Perhaps as Mr. Burns says, we ALL should learn the Gettysburg Address by heart. To that end, there is a site you might want to visit -- learntheaddress.org. There you will see many famous people who share their own recitation of the address.
With God's help, we can all be better people. With inspiration, we can aspire, and then inspire others.
Let me know what you think of the program please.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
When the record of any human life is set down, there are three pairs of eyes who see it in a different light. There is the life as I see it, as others see it, and as God sees it. Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Singing
For the past nearly 20 years, I've been part of a wonderful musical group at SS Philip & James. How blessed I am that it is part of my life! It began with volunteering to join the group as a singer for Confirmation services, and following with a casual conversation with Mary Tohill about guitar playing.
During one summer, probably the summer of 1995, Mary told me that my services were needed and that was that. I went to a practice with Ann and played with her that Sunday, terrified that I'd mess up. The next week during lunch, I went to the now defunct guitar store in Akron and bought my Yamaha acoustic guitar.
Since that time, I've missed only maybe 10 or 12 Sundays as part of the group, other than the ones that we normally have off, such as when the kids sing.
Someone said at the beginning that singing is praying twice, and I believe that. Getting to play the guitar is just a bonus. During college my brother came home for a Christmas break with his roommate's guitar that he'd borrowed. He taught me two or three chords and I was pretty much hooked. Ultimately, I think I did learn one song by heart. I got a folk guitar for my 23rd birthday and started learning more after that. When the folk group (the same group that I would one day join) created a record album, I bought one and tried to play the songs at home.
There's a priceless picture of my grandfather sitting on the couch at my aunt's house in around 1964, trying to tune a toy guitar that one of the kids brought over. My baby nephew is sleeping on the couch next to him, probably just a couple of months old. For it was my grandfather who played guitar, and I knew that from childhood, although I never got to hear him play. It must be in the genes. My mother tried her hand at violin but gave up in disgust because she just didn't feel she was good enough. An uncle played the mandolin. And as it turns out, on the other side of the family, one of my relatives is Lawrence Welk. Yikes.
The folk group is getting older and we know that. But at this point, our voices are still good, strong, and pure. We don't sound like a bunch of old ladies. The men sound good too, and contribute mightily to the cause. I'd like to think we can hang in there for a while, as long as we are needed. The group is about music, but also about loyalty, friendship, and commitment. It's about sacrifice. It's been about knee replacements and operations and illnesses of all kinds. It's been about children, marriages, and grandchildren aplenty. It's been about confusion over church changes, learning new music, and bringing a new sound into the church.
You know those wonderful productions where people just come and sing Handel's Messiah? These are people who sang the entire production in college or with an orchestra at some point. They know the music from memory, their own part even down to second soprano. And kind of like the flash mobs we've heard about and seen on You Tube, it just comes together and it is glorious.
Music moves us; it affects us and our mood. It is a gift to us, a little teaser of what is to come in heaven when we hear the choirs of angels. Maybe we get to join them, kind of like the Messiah production.
We start out hearing the songs of infancy, the lullabies and other ditties that our mothers and aunts and siblings sing. We are awed early on.
My granddaughter, Ella, has a new favorite, thanks to the Brownies from 60 years ago. It is a song I learned while wearing the size 7 Brownie uniform and singing -- I've Got Something in My Pocket.
It goes like this:
"I've got something in my pocket, that belongs across my face.
I keep it very close to me in a most convenient place.
I know you could not guess it, if you guessed a long, long while.
So I'll take it out, put it on, it's a great big Ella smile."
And when she smiles in joy over this song, that's as good as it gets. As for the folk group, for now we continue to make music.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“May the strength and support of the Holy Spirit be with all of you, that you may persevere steadfastly and faithfully in the work you have undertaken.” - St. Angela Merici (founder of the Ursuline order)
During one summer, probably the summer of 1995, Mary told me that my services were needed and that was that. I went to a practice with Ann and played with her that Sunday, terrified that I'd mess up. The next week during lunch, I went to the now defunct guitar store in Akron and bought my Yamaha acoustic guitar.
Since that time, I've missed only maybe 10 or 12 Sundays as part of the group, other than the ones that we normally have off, such as when the kids sing.
Someone said at the beginning that singing is praying twice, and I believe that. Getting to play the guitar is just a bonus. During college my brother came home for a Christmas break with his roommate's guitar that he'd borrowed. He taught me two or three chords and I was pretty much hooked. Ultimately, I think I did learn one song by heart. I got a folk guitar for my 23rd birthday and started learning more after that. When the folk group (the same group that I would one day join) created a record album, I bought one and tried to play the songs at home.
There's a priceless picture of my grandfather sitting on the couch at my aunt's house in around 1964, trying to tune a toy guitar that one of the kids brought over. My baby nephew is sleeping on the couch next to him, probably just a couple of months old. For it was my grandfather who played guitar, and I knew that from childhood, although I never got to hear him play. It must be in the genes. My mother tried her hand at violin but gave up in disgust because she just didn't feel she was good enough. An uncle played the mandolin. And as it turns out, on the other side of the family, one of my relatives is Lawrence Welk. Yikes.
The folk group is getting older and we know that. But at this point, our voices are still good, strong, and pure. We don't sound like a bunch of old ladies. The men sound good too, and contribute mightily to the cause. I'd like to think we can hang in there for a while, as long as we are needed. The group is about music, but also about loyalty, friendship, and commitment. It's about sacrifice. It's been about knee replacements and operations and illnesses of all kinds. It's been about children, marriages, and grandchildren aplenty. It's been about confusion over church changes, learning new music, and bringing a new sound into the church.
You know those wonderful productions where people just come and sing Handel's Messiah? These are people who sang the entire production in college or with an orchestra at some point. They know the music from memory, their own part even down to second soprano. And kind of like the flash mobs we've heard about and seen on You Tube, it just comes together and it is glorious.
Music moves us; it affects us and our mood. It is a gift to us, a little teaser of what is to come in heaven when we hear the choirs of angels. Maybe we get to join them, kind of like the Messiah production.
We start out hearing the songs of infancy, the lullabies and other ditties that our mothers and aunts and siblings sing. We are awed early on.
My granddaughter, Ella, has a new favorite, thanks to the Brownies from 60 years ago. It is a song I learned while wearing the size 7 Brownie uniform and singing -- I've Got Something in My Pocket.
It goes like this:
"I've got something in my pocket, that belongs across my face.
I keep it very close to me in a most convenient place.
I know you could not guess it, if you guessed a long, long while.
So I'll take it out, put it on, it's a great big Ella smile."
And when she smiles in joy over this song, that's as good as it gets. As for the folk group, for now we continue to make music.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“May the strength and support of the Holy Spirit be with all of you, that you may persevere steadfastly and faithfully in the work you have undertaken.” - St. Angela Merici (founder of the Ursuline order)
Friday, April 11, 2014
Knifing in PA
The student who turned on his peers and stabbed at them with viciousness and intent to do bodily harm was a sophomore, and allegedly was bullied.
A couple of times when these school violence incidences are reported, I've caught myself saying, "Boy, things like that just didn't happen when we were in school," and then I stop, remembering.
There was a kid at my school named Steve. He was big and maybe he was also a little older due to having been held back somewhere along the line. He was absent a lot. He didn't seem to have any friends.
While I never heard anyone bullying him by the time I knew who he was, it seems likely that he got teased in the younger years. His home life must have been completely atypical for the times we were living in, and he must have suffered much at someone's hands. He had a sister who seemed okay or at least marginally okay, but who knows about that. He just seemed so damaged.
He scared me to death, and since his locker was across the hall from mine, I had a good chance of seeing him at least once a day -- at the end of school. I tried never to look him in the eye, tried to stay under the radar because he scared me. His eyes scared me. And yet, a girl from my class bravely talked to him and was nice to him -- her locker was next to his. I thought she was incredibly brave and mature to do what she did, and I admired her for it. I began to start to see that there was a real person in Steve, a person with feelings, a person who was lonely and hurting, and I shouldn't have been afraid.
I wonder what ever happened to him. I know that he wasn't in our school building after he tried to stab the English teacher with a knife he'd brought to school. He got close enough to cut through her dress. She must have pushed a button since he'd never been violent at school before. She probably said something that made him feel stupid and I think that perhaps at home someone said those hurtful things to him a lot.
He lashed out and he was put in a reform school. Given his home life, it might have been a gift.
These stories seem to be gathering steam to the point where they aren't shocking us like the first stories did and that's sad. Why is this happening so much? Is it because the bullied student wants attention, the media attention that they are almost sure to get, that other students have gotten? Is it because maybe they hope to die as a "suicide by cop" kind of thing? Or is it because they are hurting inside and don't know how to cope with that kind of anger? If it is mental disorder, then why do so many younger people suffer from it?
Hard to say, isn't it? All I know is that there seem to be far more parents not doing a good job at home, and schools who aren't doing a very good job of finding bullies or the bullied.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“Ever since I dedicated myself to think about and meditate on the Passion and Death of our Lord Jesus Christ, all the pain and sufferings no longer discouraged me, but rather they console me.” - St. Clare of Assisi (sister of St. Francis)
Let us pray for parents today, that they understand their role and the sacrifice that it takes to do the job well. Let us pray that they realize that this work is sometimes without reward, but if not done well, nothing that they do after can make up for their failing. Let us pray for those in charge of students, that they become increasingly vigilant and trustworthy so that students can come to them with their own problems or their concerns about others in the school. Amen.
A couple of times when these school violence incidences are reported, I've caught myself saying, "Boy, things like that just didn't happen when we were in school," and then I stop, remembering.
There was a kid at my school named Steve. He was big and maybe he was also a little older due to having been held back somewhere along the line. He was absent a lot. He didn't seem to have any friends.
While I never heard anyone bullying him by the time I knew who he was, it seems likely that he got teased in the younger years. His home life must have been completely atypical for the times we were living in, and he must have suffered much at someone's hands. He had a sister who seemed okay or at least marginally okay, but who knows about that. He just seemed so damaged.
He scared me to death, and since his locker was across the hall from mine, I had a good chance of seeing him at least once a day -- at the end of school. I tried never to look him in the eye, tried to stay under the radar because he scared me. His eyes scared me. And yet, a girl from my class bravely talked to him and was nice to him -- her locker was next to his. I thought she was incredibly brave and mature to do what she did, and I admired her for it. I began to start to see that there was a real person in Steve, a person with feelings, a person who was lonely and hurting, and I shouldn't have been afraid.
I wonder what ever happened to him. I know that he wasn't in our school building after he tried to stab the English teacher with a knife he'd brought to school. He got close enough to cut through her dress. She must have pushed a button since he'd never been violent at school before. She probably said something that made him feel stupid and I think that perhaps at home someone said those hurtful things to him a lot.
He lashed out and he was put in a reform school. Given his home life, it might have been a gift.
These stories seem to be gathering steam to the point where they aren't shocking us like the first stories did and that's sad. Why is this happening so much? Is it because the bullied student wants attention, the media attention that they are almost sure to get, that other students have gotten? Is it because maybe they hope to die as a "suicide by cop" kind of thing? Or is it because they are hurting inside and don't know how to cope with that kind of anger? If it is mental disorder, then why do so many younger people suffer from it?
Hard to say, isn't it? All I know is that there seem to be far more parents not doing a good job at home, and schools who aren't doing a very good job of finding bullies or the bullied.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“Ever since I dedicated myself to think about and meditate on the Passion and Death of our Lord Jesus Christ, all the pain and sufferings no longer discouraged me, but rather they console me.” - St. Clare of Assisi (sister of St. Francis)
Let us pray for parents today, that they understand their role and the sacrifice that it takes to do the job well. Let us pray that they realize that this work is sometimes without reward, but if not done well, nothing that they do after can make up for their failing. Let us pray for those in charge of students, that they become increasingly vigilant and trustworthy so that students can come to them with their own problems or their concerns about others in the school. Amen.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Hurry Up
We always have the family over for an early Easter on the Saturday before -- and the traditional egg hunt too.
Unlike Christmas when I was on top of things, this year I'm not as prepared and fear that I'll pay for it. So today I have to hurry up a little bit to get things done. Today is shopping for all kinds of ingredients and extras for the meal and the egg hunt. Later today, I'm taking a break and having a watercolor class with my friend, Peg. Later this afternoon I need to get up in the attic and retrieve the decorations and the plastic fillable eggs.
Friday I've got to make the bunny cake. It's so easy! Two round cakes (I use yellow cake) and then cut one of them so that there are two ears and the middle piece the bow tie. I put coconut on the ears and the bow tie and leave the round face plain for decorating. There are some who don't like coconut, so this way, no one is left out. Friday I also have to do some cleaning.
Saturday will give me yet more time because everyone is coming later, due to other commitments, like sports and a first birthday. By the time the party starts, we should be in good shape around here.
Here's something only someone who lives on a fair size piece of property understands. You can't put the eggs out too early. Heat? Well, sure, there is always that. Chocolate melts pretty fast. But no, it's actually the squirrels. They are drawn to the eggs and manage to open them and eat the contents. Yep. It's happened before. We were looking from person to person the first time, expecting someone to admit to it, but no one said a word. So then we started laughing because it was obvious. Partially eaten treats gave it away. And I don't even know if squirrels are like dogs and cats -- for them chocolate is like poison.
So that's the agenda and it's filling up fast.
But Friday at 2:00, I still have my holy hour to keep and I will. The time goes by remarkably fast and I've found several books to read in smidgens in order to find inspiration and put myself in the right frame of mind. To open myself up for God and whatever He has for me.
And now what I promised -- the story of St. Bernadette.
Bernadette was born Bernadette Soubirous on January 7, 1844 in Lourdes. The family was terribly poor and lived in the basement of a structure that had been used as a jail. Because of the dampness, Bernadette developed asthma at an early age. At times she went to stay with her aunt and a former foster mother, but Bernadette was kept home from school to look after their children. Because she missed out on so much school, people thought her to be slow. She made her First Communion later than her peers because she couldn't read or write until then. She carried her rosary with her wherever she went, so the first time she saw the lady in the grotto, she instinctively reached for it and started to pray.
She was humble and would never accept money after her visions of Mary became known. A bishop once asked her if she'd like to trade her old, worn rosary for his gold one and she deferred. In 1862, the Bishop of Tarbes authenticated Bernadette's visions and also the cures that had occurred in Lourdes (and continue to this day). In 1866, she entered the convent and became a nun. After she shared her story of the visions with the others, the Mistress of Novices treated her twice as severely to be sure she did not show pride.
Always having been sickly, she was given the task of praying by the bishop. She then became the convent's nurse after the nurse under which she worked died. Her next job was sacristan and she made beautiful altar cloths. On April 16, 1879, St. Bernadette died at 3:00 p.m. She was 35 years old.
St. Bernadette is one of the "uncorruptibles." That is, after her death, her body did not decompose and remains to this day in the convent in a casket of gold and crystal. She was named a saint in 1933.
Our quote for today is:
"Love overcomes, love delights. Those who love the Sacred Heart of Jesus rejoice." - St. Bernadette
Unlike Christmas when I was on top of things, this year I'm not as prepared and fear that I'll pay for it. So today I have to hurry up a little bit to get things done. Today is shopping for all kinds of ingredients and extras for the meal and the egg hunt. Later today, I'm taking a break and having a watercolor class with my friend, Peg. Later this afternoon I need to get up in the attic and retrieve the decorations and the plastic fillable eggs.
Friday I've got to make the bunny cake. It's so easy! Two round cakes (I use yellow cake) and then cut one of them so that there are two ears and the middle piece the bow tie. I put coconut on the ears and the bow tie and leave the round face plain for decorating. There are some who don't like coconut, so this way, no one is left out. Friday I also have to do some cleaning.
Saturday will give me yet more time because everyone is coming later, due to other commitments, like sports and a first birthday. By the time the party starts, we should be in good shape around here.
Here's something only someone who lives on a fair size piece of property understands. You can't put the eggs out too early. Heat? Well, sure, there is always that. Chocolate melts pretty fast. But no, it's actually the squirrels. They are drawn to the eggs and manage to open them and eat the contents. Yep. It's happened before. We were looking from person to person the first time, expecting someone to admit to it, but no one said a word. So then we started laughing because it was obvious. Partially eaten treats gave it away. And I don't even know if squirrels are like dogs and cats -- for them chocolate is like poison.
So that's the agenda and it's filling up fast.
But Friday at 2:00, I still have my holy hour to keep and I will. The time goes by remarkably fast and I've found several books to read in smidgens in order to find inspiration and put myself in the right frame of mind. To open myself up for God and whatever He has for me.
And now what I promised -- the story of St. Bernadette.
Bernadette was born Bernadette Soubirous on January 7, 1844 in Lourdes. The family was terribly poor and lived in the basement of a structure that had been used as a jail. Because of the dampness, Bernadette developed asthma at an early age. At times she went to stay with her aunt and a former foster mother, but Bernadette was kept home from school to look after their children. Because she missed out on so much school, people thought her to be slow. She made her First Communion later than her peers because she couldn't read or write until then. She carried her rosary with her wherever she went, so the first time she saw the lady in the grotto, she instinctively reached for it and started to pray.
She was humble and would never accept money after her visions of Mary became known. A bishop once asked her if she'd like to trade her old, worn rosary for his gold one and she deferred. In 1862, the Bishop of Tarbes authenticated Bernadette's visions and also the cures that had occurred in Lourdes (and continue to this day). In 1866, she entered the convent and became a nun. After she shared her story of the visions with the others, the Mistress of Novices treated her twice as severely to be sure she did not show pride.
Always having been sickly, she was given the task of praying by the bishop. She then became the convent's nurse after the nurse under which she worked died. Her next job was sacristan and she made beautiful altar cloths. On April 16, 1879, St. Bernadette died at 3:00 p.m. She was 35 years old.
St. Bernadette is one of the "uncorruptibles." That is, after her death, her body did not decompose and remains to this day in the convent in a casket of gold and crystal. She was named a saint in 1933.
Our quote for today is:
"Love overcomes, love delights. Those who love the Sacred Heart of Jesus rejoice." - St. Bernadette
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Old Sheets
My husband has this habit that when he sleeps, he runs his toes over the sheet. Sometimes it makes so much noise that I wake up and have to think for a moment as to what it is. The first times it happened, I blamed the cats.
I'm pretty sure that he does this thing with the sheets, kind of like dogs and cats do, because he is dreaming that he's running. Har-har-har.
The end result is shredding and a useless bottom sheet while the top sheet is still perfectly good. I've patched them with cotton from something else and it holds for a while. I've used fabric interfacing and ironed it on the holes on both sides, and that fared the worst of all of the patches.
So this morning I have two king-size bottom sheets that cannot be patched again and need to be disposed of. And that's where the dilemma comes. I've made up my mind already, but I'll share some of what I considered first.
First, I considered pitching them altogether. Out of sight; out of mind. Guilt consumed me.
Next, I considered making something with the fabric. Really?
Finally, I decided to take a fabric scissors to them and make them into nice cotton rags. People pay a lot of money for cotton rags that come in those boxes with the holes in the front for easy grabbing. We have a couple of them in fact. So I'll cut up the sheets and fill the boxes, and give some away to family members. What a lovely Easter gift!
People say we are a throw-away society and to some extent, we are. But it's interesting to see how the people who went through the depression deal with older items and how younger people do. My husband knows someone who has a broken printer. He's been dithering about it for a couple of months. The truth is, as we all know, that printers are cheap; toner is expensive. The truth is, it is usually cheaper to pitch the printer and start over again. But the friend is a depression-era kind of guy and he found someone who can fix it -- or so he says. Meanwhile, for two months, he's complained about not having a printer.
If it were not for the "older folks", Pawn Stars wouldn't have anything to buy or sell in a lot of cases.
People are kind of like the sheets that were shredded. Without God in our lives, we go about without purpose and with our sins unforgiven. We blow with every wind that comes along. With God, we are completely renewed.
Our Lenten quote today:
"I shall spend every moment loving. One who loves does not notice her trials; or perhaps more accurately, she is able to love them." St. Bernadette of Lourdes
Tomorrow I will tell you about amazing St. Bernadette who died at the age of 35.
I'm pretty sure that he does this thing with the sheets, kind of like dogs and cats do, because he is dreaming that he's running. Har-har-har.
The end result is shredding and a useless bottom sheet while the top sheet is still perfectly good. I've patched them with cotton from something else and it holds for a while. I've used fabric interfacing and ironed it on the holes on both sides, and that fared the worst of all of the patches.
So this morning I have two king-size bottom sheets that cannot be patched again and need to be disposed of. And that's where the dilemma comes. I've made up my mind already, but I'll share some of what I considered first.
First, I considered pitching them altogether. Out of sight; out of mind. Guilt consumed me.
Next, I considered making something with the fabric. Really?
Finally, I decided to take a fabric scissors to them and make them into nice cotton rags. People pay a lot of money for cotton rags that come in those boxes with the holes in the front for easy grabbing. We have a couple of them in fact. So I'll cut up the sheets and fill the boxes, and give some away to family members. What a lovely Easter gift!
People say we are a throw-away society and to some extent, we are. But it's interesting to see how the people who went through the depression deal with older items and how younger people do. My husband knows someone who has a broken printer. He's been dithering about it for a couple of months. The truth is, as we all know, that printers are cheap; toner is expensive. The truth is, it is usually cheaper to pitch the printer and start over again. But the friend is a depression-era kind of guy and he found someone who can fix it -- or so he says. Meanwhile, for two months, he's complained about not having a printer.
If it were not for the "older folks", Pawn Stars wouldn't have anything to buy or sell in a lot of cases.
People are kind of like the sheets that were shredded. Without God in our lives, we go about without purpose and with our sins unforgiven. We blow with every wind that comes along. With God, we are completely renewed.
Our Lenten quote today:
"I shall spend every moment loving. One who loves does not notice her trials; or perhaps more accurately, she is able to love them." St. Bernadette of Lourdes
Tomorrow I will tell you about amazing St. Bernadette who died at the age of 35.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Ad Drives Me Nuts
There's an ad that's been running for several weeks now for an online college. The person talking says that he doesn't want a job -- he wants a CAREER. He says that he doesn't want to sit in on classes and follow a schedule and he gloats that he isn't alone. So he and a couple of other students are pictured wading through a crowd of regular kids, wearing pink shirts and standing out as different.
What on earth are they talking about?
Most people, even those on a career track, do start out with a job. They go to work at a certain time in the morning and they finish at a certain time at night. Their employer has expectations of them and they don't get to write their own job descriptions. In other words, there is structure. They are expected to fit in.
My point is -- how does this make-up-your-own-university kind of learning fit in with the rigors and structure of the work world? What kind of learning do you end up with? Who would promise this kind of experience in college and why?
Speaking from experience, accreditation is important. If you want the degree to matter, you also want the degree to be accredited by some academic body. Doing your own thing isn't going to get that done. The kid talking sounds spoiled, bratty, and totally unappreciative. He sounds arrogant and abrasive as though no one can teach him a thing in school -- he's already smarter than everyone. Again, speaking from experience, that kind of attitude doesn't work.
The hunger to learn, to understand, is fundamental to success in any academic environment. Years of experience and know-how goes into what is taught in the classes. Sometimes it certainly seems as though the course has nothing to do with the direction your life is taking at the moment, but believe me when I tell you that the bird course I took and the local flora course I took helped me in all kinds of ways. Just because I never used the information at work doesn't mean I don't appreciate everything.
When we also use that drive for learning and understanding to fuel study of our faith, that's even better. Lifelong learners have the ability to use study guides to follow the Bible and what it has to say to us in this so-called modern time. The further we delve into life in the Holy Land all those years ago, the more we realize that the same kinds of things happen today as well. The same weaknesses, same sins, same stiff-necked attitudes.
Humility is a wonderful attribute, because it means that we learn something from everyone we meet. It means that we know we have wonderful gifts, but rather than bragging about them to others, we respectfully realize that our gifts ARE gifts -- from God. That takes away the arrogance and the abrasiveness.
Whoever wrote the ad that is airing on television isn't helping anyone, and in the long run, certainly isn't helping the online college.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
"To the servant of God ... every place is the right place, and every time is the right time.
-----Letters of St. Catherine
What on earth are they talking about?
Most people, even those on a career track, do start out with a job. They go to work at a certain time in the morning and they finish at a certain time at night. Their employer has expectations of them and they don't get to write their own job descriptions. In other words, there is structure. They are expected to fit in.
My point is -- how does this make-up-your-own-university kind of learning fit in with the rigors and structure of the work world? What kind of learning do you end up with? Who would promise this kind of experience in college and why?
Speaking from experience, accreditation is important. If you want the degree to matter, you also want the degree to be accredited by some academic body. Doing your own thing isn't going to get that done. The kid talking sounds spoiled, bratty, and totally unappreciative. He sounds arrogant and abrasive as though no one can teach him a thing in school -- he's already smarter than everyone. Again, speaking from experience, that kind of attitude doesn't work.
The hunger to learn, to understand, is fundamental to success in any academic environment. Years of experience and know-how goes into what is taught in the classes. Sometimes it certainly seems as though the course has nothing to do with the direction your life is taking at the moment, but believe me when I tell you that the bird course I took and the local flora course I took helped me in all kinds of ways. Just because I never used the information at work doesn't mean I don't appreciate everything.
When we also use that drive for learning and understanding to fuel study of our faith, that's even better. Lifelong learners have the ability to use study guides to follow the Bible and what it has to say to us in this so-called modern time. The further we delve into life in the Holy Land all those years ago, the more we realize that the same kinds of things happen today as well. The same weaknesses, same sins, same stiff-necked attitudes.
Humility is a wonderful attribute, because it means that we learn something from everyone we meet. It means that we know we have wonderful gifts, but rather than bragging about them to others, we respectfully realize that our gifts ARE gifts -- from God. That takes away the arrogance and the abrasiveness.
Whoever wrote the ad that is airing on television isn't helping anyone, and in the long run, certainly isn't helping the online college.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
"To the servant of God ... every place is the right place, and every time is the right time.
-----Letters of St. Catherine
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Color Blind
One of the tests that the Lions do on the young children detects color blindness -- a trait that is almost always found in boys.
The other day my husband said that they found three boys with it -- three boys who could not make out what was in the book at all.
The book that they use has circles with numbers in it. There are little patches of color all over the circles in a certain design, with a number tucked into it.
When someone is color blind, what they see is kind of a washed out gray/brown color. The reason is that they don't have enough cones in the back of their retinas to see color, predominantly red/green. There is no correction for it. I've always said that Christmas must be very strange for them -- everyone making such a fuss about a gray tree with more gray ornaments on it. And Santa -- wow. And fire trucks.
And traffic lights -- well, that is something kind of important. The green should ALWAYS be on the bottom and the red on the top, because a color blind person is looking for a circle to light up so they know whether to go or stop.
Often, the parents are completely unaware of their child's problem. Other times they aren't as surprised since it seems to be hereditary.
It keeps a boy out of the military and probably some other jobs too.
A friend of mine from childhood is color blind. He didn't know it and no one else did either. John was a great artist in elementary school -- the best of us. He won all of the poster contests barely breaking a sweat. Not only could he draw well, but his concepts on where to put what was also remarkable. In college, John was getting ready for class one day and casually mentioned his brown slacks to his roommate who looked at him oddly. "What do you mean brown; they are green." And that was how John learned that he was color blind.
So what did John do? Bury his head in the sand? Oh no. He started an advertising agency after college and did quite well for himself. He found employees who could mix the colors and do the color selection while he met with clients and worked on the conceptual framework for the ads.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”
― Francis of Assisi
The other day my husband said that they found three boys with it -- three boys who could not make out what was in the book at all.
The book that they use has circles with numbers in it. There are little patches of color all over the circles in a certain design, with a number tucked into it.
When someone is color blind, what they see is kind of a washed out gray/brown color. The reason is that they don't have enough cones in the back of their retinas to see color, predominantly red/green. There is no correction for it. I've always said that Christmas must be very strange for them -- everyone making such a fuss about a gray tree with more gray ornaments on it. And Santa -- wow. And fire trucks.
And traffic lights -- well, that is something kind of important. The green should ALWAYS be on the bottom and the red on the top, because a color blind person is looking for a circle to light up so they know whether to go or stop.
Often, the parents are completely unaware of their child's problem. Other times they aren't as surprised since it seems to be hereditary.
It keeps a boy out of the military and probably some other jobs too.
A friend of mine from childhood is color blind. He didn't know it and no one else did either. John was a great artist in elementary school -- the best of us. He won all of the poster contests barely breaking a sweat. Not only could he draw well, but his concepts on where to put what was also remarkable. In college, John was getting ready for class one day and casually mentioned his brown slacks to his roommate who looked at him oddly. "What do you mean brown; they are green." And that was how John learned that he was color blind.
So what did John do? Bury his head in the sand? Oh no. He started an advertising agency after college and did quite well for himself. He found employees who could mix the colors and do the color selection while he met with clients and worked on the conceptual framework for the ads.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”
― Francis of Assisi
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Friday, April 4, 2014
So here we are -- another Friday in Lent.
I'm sure you've heard about the second Ft. Hood shooting and wonder like I do why this kind of thing is happening. Military bases are supposed to be safe for our enlisted men, whether they are staying there on an assignment or preparing to leave for another post.
The latest shooter apparently also suffered from mental problems and was supposed to be getting some help.
I guess my first recommendation for our military is that all soldiers being treated for depression and serious mental issues shouldn't be housed on the base at all. This particular enlisted man did not see action in Iraq; he drove a truck, but we all know that every individual reacts to stressors in a different way. If he was staying somewhere else, where he could get attention and treatment, and group therapy with other men of the same ilk, three people and 14 injured would still be just fine.
Apparently, his facebook page showed some disturbing images from a hard rock band and some puzzling statements. He was obviously very ill. But what kind of help was he getting in this modern, more secular Army?
An article on the Breitbart site from 2013 says that enlisted men who share their faith with others may be subject to a court martial for "proselytizing." This is based on newer rules and regulations that comes from the current administration.
One movie that our family watched every single Easter time is called, "Hill Number One." It is the story of a group of soldiers who are out in the field on Easter and there is a lull in the action. During that time the chaplain arrives to say Mass. One soldier asks about Easter and the priest starts to share the story of Jesus with the soldiers, and then the scene changes to the holy land in the time of Our Lord. The actors read like a who's who -- James Dean, Edward G. Robinson, and many other notables. It is not all that realistic but as a child, it wasn't the production (like a play) that got my undivided attention. It was the words of Jesus.
There wasn't a time that I saw the film that I didn't get tears in my eyes, that I didn't feel so sorry for Jesus and for what he suffered on our behalf. There wasn't a time that I saw the film that my faith didn't grow. There wasn't a time when I didn't feel guilt for having done wrong.
The movie took place in World War II. The men were dealing with the serious issues of life and death, and they were afraid. Who might be next? And so the visit from the Chaplain and the sharing of the story of Jesus with the words that he spoke comforted these men -- gave them the sense that there is something much bigger out there. Not a "higher power." The "highest power."
The issues we are facing in our military echo the issues we face in our society as a whole. To me, it is obvious that more individuals are dealing with mental issues than ever before. And at a younger age too. We need some answers as to why. We need to know how to better help people. And having a faith base is the best possible thing in life, because no matter what circumstance a person might find him or herself, with faith rather than having one foot in the grave, the believer has one foot in heaven.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.” Blessed Mother Teresa
I'm sure you've heard about the second Ft. Hood shooting and wonder like I do why this kind of thing is happening. Military bases are supposed to be safe for our enlisted men, whether they are staying there on an assignment or preparing to leave for another post.
The latest shooter apparently also suffered from mental problems and was supposed to be getting some help.
I guess my first recommendation for our military is that all soldiers being treated for depression and serious mental issues shouldn't be housed on the base at all. This particular enlisted man did not see action in Iraq; he drove a truck, but we all know that every individual reacts to stressors in a different way. If he was staying somewhere else, where he could get attention and treatment, and group therapy with other men of the same ilk, three people and 14 injured would still be just fine.
Apparently, his facebook page showed some disturbing images from a hard rock band and some puzzling statements. He was obviously very ill. But what kind of help was he getting in this modern, more secular Army?
An article on the Breitbart site from 2013 says that enlisted men who share their faith with others may be subject to a court martial for "proselytizing." This is based on newer rules and regulations that comes from the current administration.
One movie that our family watched every single Easter time is called, "Hill Number One." It is the story of a group of soldiers who are out in the field on Easter and there is a lull in the action. During that time the chaplain arrives to say Mass. One soldier asks about Easter and the priest starts to share the story of Jesus with the soldiers, and then the scene changes to the holy land in the time of Our Lord. The actors read like a who's who -- James Dean, Edward G. Robinson, and many other notables. It is not all that realistic but as a child, it wasn't the production (like a play) that got my undivided attention. It was the words of Jesus.
There wasn't a time that I saw the film that I didn't get tears in my eyes, that I didn't feel so sorry for Jesus and for what he suffered on our behalf. There wasn't a time that I saw the film that my faith didn't grow. There wasn't a time when I didn't feel guilt for having done wrong.
The movie took place in World War II. The men were dealing with the serious issues of life and death, and they were afraid. Who might be next? And so the visit from the Chaplain and the sharing of the story of Jesus with the words that he spoke comforted these men -- gave them the sense that there is something much bigger out there. Not a "higher power." The "highest power."
The issues we are facing in our military echo the issues we face in our society as a whole. To me, it is obvious that more individuals are dealing with mental issues than ever before. And at a younger age too. We need some answers as to why. We need to know how to better help people. And having a faith base is the best possible thing in life, because no matter what circumstance a person might find him or herself, with faith rather than having one foot in the grave, the believer has one foot in heaven.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
“I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.” Blessed Mother Teresa
Small Town Church
A good friend of mine and her husband chose to "move back home" a few years ago. Her father thought it would be a good idea since he was alone, getting up there in years and could use the help.
In a small town, you also have small churches. SS Philip & James is one of them. My friend's dad is a pillar of the church and at 90 still teaches a small class in CCD. Everyone knows him and he attends just about everything. She recounted a story a couple of weeks ago that you'll enjoy.
One evening she returned home from work (she worked at the library), and there were all kinds of cars in the driveway. She walked into the house and in the living room was a group of people, some she knew. My friend asked what was going on and one of them answered, "Oh, we were looking for a place to hold our meeting and your front door wasn't locked."
And then, just as quickly, probably when she saw the look on my friend's face, she said, "Naw, your dad's downstairs having his meeting and we're having our meeting up here. He told us to come over."
And her dad didn't think they needed a second bathroom.
Another story involves the annual mulching event at the church, usually held on a spring weeknight. One guy who lives a ways down the street brings his John Deere mini-digger. Oh no, he doesn't put it on a flatbed; he just drives it down the street to church. Everyone else shows up in cars and digs shovels, rakes, clippers, and other yard tools from the trunks. The mount of mulch in the church parking lot is enormous, but with all of the help it doesn't take long to do the fronts and sides of the church and school. One of my friends found a way out of it; she professes to getting poison ivy from the mulch.
Just before the church's 150th anniversary, people got together to plant some mums and of course, do the mulch. I've never seen the place look so good. One idea that seemed to catch on over the last few years was asking for volunteers to take care of one small section of the grounds. The volunteer should weed, water, plant or do what is needed in that section to make it look good. As a result, we have a nice variety of plants, colors and shapes but everything seems to flow together beautifully. It is peaceful at church, with the small cemetery just out back. Stones there date back to the Civil War.
When we talk about church, WE are church. It isn't the building; it is the community of believers who gather together to know, love and serve God better. Nothing illustrates this concept better than the stories about churches that have burned down, but on Sunday everyone shows up for services, even if they sit on folding chairs in the dirt.
Easter is coming closer, isn't it? It seems like it was just Ash Wednesday and here we are just two and a half weeks away. I still have a lot to do!!
Our Lenten quote for today is:
Teach us to give and not to count the cost.
St. Ignatius of Loyola
In a small town, you also have small churches. SS Philip & James is one of them. My friend's dad is a pillar of the church and at 90 still teaches a small class in CCD. Everyone knows him and he attends just about everything. She recounted a story a couple of weeks ago that you'll enjoy.
One evening she returned home from work (she worked at the library), and there were all kinds of cars in the driveway. She walked into the house and in the living room was a group of people, some she knew. My friend asked what was going on and one of them answered, "Oh, we were looking for a place to hold our meeting and your front door wasn't locked."
And then, just as quickly, probably when she saw the look on my friend's face, she said, "Naw, your dad's downstairs having his meeting and we're having our meeting up here. He told us to come over."
And her dad didn't think they needed a second bathroom.
Another story involves the annual mulching event at the church, usually held on a spring weeknight. One guy who lives a ways down the street brings his John Deere mini-digger. Oh no, he doesn't put it on a flatbed; he just drives it down the street to church. Everyone else shows up in cars and digs shovels, rakes, clippers, and other yard tools from the trunks. The mount of mulch in the church parking lot is enormous, but with all of the help it doesn't take long to do the fronts and sides of the church and school. One of my friends found a way out of it; she professes to getting poison ivy from the mulch.
Just before the church's 150th anniversary, people got together to plant some mums and of course, do the mulch. I've never seen the place look so good. One idea that seemed to catch on over the last few years was asking for volunteers to take care of one small section of the grounds. The volunteer should weed, water, plant or do what is needed in that section to make it look good. As a result, we have a nice variety of plants, colors and shapes but everything seems to flow together beautifully. It is peaceful at church, with the small cemetery just out back. Stones there date back to the Civil War.
When we talk about church, WE are church. It isn't the building; it is the community of believers who gather together to know, love and serve God better. Nothing illustrates this concept better than the stories about churches that have burned down, but on Sunday everyone shows up for services, even if they sit on folding chairs in the dirt.
Easter is coming closer, isn't it? It seems like it was just Ash Wednesday and here we are just two and a half weeks away. I still have a lot to do!!
Our Lenten quote for today is:
Teach us to give and not to count the cost.
St. Ignatius of Loyola
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
The Dentist
This morning I have to go to the dentist at 8:00 a.m., so I'll activate this posting that I'm actually writing at 9:20 p.m. Tuesday night.
A reminder to myself -- "Self, note not to make the next dental check-up appointment at 8:00 and instead go for a 9:00 a.m. slot!!" I'm getting so lazy since I retired. Getting up at 6:00 or 6:30 is like torture. Part of it is that when you start getting older, you don't sleep as well anymore. The least little thing, like the temperature being a little warmer or a new blanket or restless legs or the fan (whirring or humming or vibrating), and I wake up. Getting back to sleep is never as easy, so that's why I tend to want to sleep later -- to make up for the two hours I missed during the night.
I hope you liked the Tuesday column written by my friend, Dolly. There are just certain people in life that you feel comfortable with and Dolly is one of them. I am thankful that she "found" me on our class's website and took the chance to write. I remember being at work when I saw the message from her and it was one joyful day!! We hadn't spoken in many, many years. And now, there is much to talk about since we share many values and concerns, and of course, we both love to write.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
Prayer is the oxygen of the soul.
Padre Pio
Have you heard of Padre Pio? Padre Pio was a Capuchin priest who began his studies for the priesthood very early in life. Also very young in life, he received the gift of the stigmata. The word "stigmata" is the plural of stigma, a mark. The young priest did not want the gift because he did not want attention drawn to himself. And so for many years it disappeared but when it returned, it stayed for 50 years. Padre Pio's reputation spread primarily because of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He heard 50 confessions a day for many years at the priory. What he was able to know about those who came to see him was remarkable. His outlook on life was that we must pray, hope and not worry.
Padre Pio also experienced ecstasies or times when he was in an altered state of consciousness, in communication with God and others. The church had a hard time dealing with Padre Pio and for a time kept him away from some of his duties. Suffering from ill health for most of his life, Padre Pio, born in Italy in 1887 to relatively poor people but people rich in their faith and prayer life, died on September 26, 1968. He was declared a saint of the church in 2002.
Pope John Paul II went to see Padre Pio when he was a priest, and Padre Pio told him that he would rise to the highest post in the church one day.
Like many other popular church figures, Padre Pio was the subject of derision and disbelief from many. His many sufferings in life starting as a child certainly had an effect on him, but he said, rightly in my opinion, that suffering is inseparable from the love of God. This quote is from Wikipedia, "Padre Pio believed the love of God is inseparable from suffering and that suffering all things for the sake of God is the way for the soul to reach God."
A reminder to myself -- "Self, note not to make the next dental check-up appointment at 8:00 and instead go for a 9:00 a.m. slot!!" I'm getting so lazy since I retired. Getting up at 6:00 or 6:30 is like torture. Part of it is that when you start getting older, you don't sleep as well anymore. The least little thing, like the temperature being a little warmer or a new blanket or restless legs or the fan (whirring or humming or vibrating), and I wake up. Getting back to sleep is never as easy, so that's why I tend to want to sleep later -- to make up for the two hours I missed during the night.
I hope you liked the Tuesday column written by my friend, Dolly. There are just certain people in life that you feel comfortable with and Dolly is one of them. I am thankful that she "found" me on our class's website and took the chance to write. I remember being at work when I saw the message from her and it was one joyful day!! We hadn't spoken in many, many years. And now, there is much to talk about since we share many values and concerns, and of course, we both love to write.
Our Lenten quote for today is:
Prayer is the oxygen of the soul.
Padre Pio
Have you heard of Padre Pio? Padre Pio was a Capuchin priest who began his studies for the priesthood very early in life. Also very young in life, he received the gift of the stigmata. The word "stigmata" is the plural of stigma, a mark. The young priest did not want the gift because he did not want attention drawn to himself. And so for many years it disappeared but when it returned, it stayed for 50 years. Padre Pio's reputation spread primarily because of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He heard 50 confessions a day for many years at the priory. What he was able to know about those who came to see him was remarkable. His outlook on life was that we must pray, hope and not worry.
Padre Pio also experienced ecstasies or times when he was in an altered state of consciousness, in communication with God and others. The church had a hard time dealing with Padre Pio and for a time kept him away from some of his duties. Suffering from ill health for most of his life, Padre Pio, born in Italy in 1887 to relatively poor people but people rich in their faith and prayer life, died on September 26, 1968. He was declared a saint of the church in 2002.
Pope John Paul II went to see Padre Pio when he was a priest, and Padre Pio told him that he would rise to the highest post in the church one day.
Like many other popular church figures, Padre Pio was the subject of derision and disbelief from many. His many sufferings in life starting as a child certainly had an effect on him, but he said, rightly in my opinion, that suffering is inseparable from the love of God. This quote is from Wikipedia, "Padre Pio believed the love of God is inseparable from suffering and that suffering all things for the sake of God is the way for the soul to reach God."
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Guest Writer
Let me introduce my friend, Dolly. She is a writer living in Washington State, and I've known her since she was four and I was five. We wrote together as children.
She wrote a neat little piece in January that she's shared with her writing group, and today she is sharing it with you. I think you will like it!
But first, let's cover our Lenten quote for today:
“My past, O Lord, to Your mercy; my present, to Your love; my future to Your providence.”
― Padre Pio
Now Dolly's article:
She wrote a neat little piece in January that she's shared with her writing group, and today she is sharing it with you. I think you will like it!
But first, let's cover our Lenten quote for today:
“My past, O Lord, to Your mercy; my present, to Your love; my future to Your providence.”
― Padre Pio
Now Dolly's article:
Jolts
I recently turned 67. The other day, I got “honned”
for the first time by a young, 20-something male. I
don’t mean that I’ve never been called “Hon” or “Honey” before, just never by a
male young enough to be my grandson. And
though I should be used to these things by now, it caught me off guard. Shocked
me. “Okay, well, thanks, Hon,” is what
the young man said when I answered a question he’d asked.
“Anna,” I stormed to one of my favorite co-volunteers
at the food bank – age 16 - “that guy just HONNED me!”
“I don’t get it,” she said. “What’s honned?”
“He called me Hon! He’s – what? – twelve years old (I tend to exaggerate
when miffed) and he’s calling me Hon?
What does he think I am - one step away from a nursing home?”
Anna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “People call me that all the time.”
“You wait,” I said, “your day will come.”
A young person, a young man, had called me “Hon” and,
instantly, I felt as reduced and wrinkled as a piece of dried fruit.
(Now, who has the problem here: me or the young man?)
I’m also not crazy about being called Sweetie or Honey or Dear by women
younger than I. That’s been going on for
a while. Older women, it’s okay. In fact, being called an endearment by someone
old enough, or nearly old enough, to be my mother makes me feel, well, younger.
But to be called that by someone of lesser years, when your faculties are still
sharp, is to feel the sting of condescension. These are terms you use with children or your
mate or possibly someone with dementia. My hairdresser, to whom I’ve gone for over 6
years, recently slapped me with a Dear. I’m
older than she, but not hugely; I always thought of us as equals, two grown-up
women who understood each other’s references. And it just came out of the blue, that Dear; she’d always called me by my name
before. I didn’t like it. I haven’t been back. My hair’s a fright.
The power of words. The word “ma’am” was my first big
jolt. I was 38 or 39, fairly fit, and under
the impression that I looked younger than I was. I was going to Fort Lewis to visit the son of
a friend. This was many years ago, before security was so intense. At the gate,
as they gave my car a cursory inspection, they were ma’aming me all over the
place. It was so strange. I’d never
heard it said so many times before, and in reference to me. Every Ma’am sounded as though it had been
written in bold font, underlined,
and with exclamation marks at the end!! (Later,
I was told they use that address, that “ma’am”, with all women, but the truth
was, it was applicable to me at the
time; I just hadn’t faced it yet.) And, so, Bam!
my “miss-hood” was gone. And the perks of miss-hood with it.
I spent a while sorrowing over my lost miss-hood;
going through all those phases of grief: the denial, the anger, the bargaining
(ala crazy diets, stupidly expensive face creams, compulsive exercising); the
depression. And, finally, acceptance -
of a sort.
Then, in my 50s, the next big jolt. This was the female condescension I mentioned
earlier. A waitress, no more than 10 or 12 years younger than I, called me
“Sweetie.” I was stunned. She thinks I’m
a sweetie? She thinks she can get her
“feel-youngs” off me?
“Did you hear what she called me?” I demanded of my
companion, Gary, when she left our table. He stared at me blankly. “She called
me Sweetie! What am I, at death’s
door? Next thing you know, she’ll be asking me where I parked my walker!”
“She probably calls everyone that,” he said, giving
me his I’ll-never-understand- women look. He was not remembering how he hated to be
called “Sir” when he was in his late 30s - and I only thought of it later. We all have
our jolt-words. That night, I asked, “Do I really look that old? “ And, of course, he being the lovely man that
he is, said, “No, of course not”.
And now this Hon..
I want “Ma’am” back. I’ve earned it.
Oh, and the
word “elderly”; let’s not forget that one! I came across that one in my late
40’s. There was an article in the paper about a 60-year old woman who’d been
robbed. She was described as “elderly”. “The
elderly woman was …” etc. etc. And, yes, I raged. “What do they mean,
‘elderly’? My God, she’s only ten years past 50!”
There are lots of jolts in this aging process, at
least for me. And they always seem to catch me unawares. But, then, there were many
jolts in my youth as well. I recover
more quickly than I did back then; I am able to laugh about things sooner. Still,
I have my moments, and words that press my buttons. Hon,
from a young man, is only the latest. I
wonder what word will jolt me next – Granny,
maybe (though I’m not one); or how about old
crone? I intend to fight each
belittling word, if only in my mind. I will not go silently “into that
good-night”. No matter how old and pathetically
wizened I may or may not appear, I’m not down for the count yet. I’ve still got stuff to contribute, whether it
be from a wheelchair or standing on my two, elderly, varicose-veined legs.
Dolly Harmon/ January, 2014
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